Randall On The Run. Judy Christenberry
I was worried about that,” Steve said with a sigh.
She leaned toward him and felt his forehead. “Your fever is rising again. If I give you a bottle of water and some aspirin, can you take them by yourself?” she asked.
“Of course I can.”
She handed him the water, then dug in her purse with one hand for the aspirin bottle, which she gave him. “It’s a child protection cap. Can you open it?”
“I’m not a child.” The fever was doing nothing to assuage his attitude, obviously.
Steve worked on the bottle but had no success. Still, he never asked for help. After a while, she pulled the SUV over to the side of the road and held out her palm. “Hand it over.”
He still seemed reluctant to admit defeat. “I can’t see the arrows in the dark,” he said, as grumpy as an overtired child.
She opened it and handed him two pills. “Do you need help with the water too?”
He said nothing, merely shot her a testy look and unscrewed the cap. He took his dosage and laid his head back, not saying a word.
“Are you warm enough?” The temperature was dropping and the snow coming down harder as they climbed to a higher elevation. Her wipers and defroster were struggling to keep up.
“I am a little cold,” he said grudgingly.
She dug past Murphy in the back and pulled out another blanket, which she spread over Steve’s long legs. Much to her surprise, Steve muttered a thank-you.
Tucking the blanket over his wounded shoulder, she took a long look at her patient. Considering the circumstances, she guessed he was doing as well as he could. There was something about him that told her his surliness was only a byproduct of the situation, not a permanent part of his personality.
His dark hair fell over his forehead, and she pushed it back with a light touch. She told herself it was only to check his temperature, but she knew better. She wanted to touch him. Judging by the scars she saw on his face, Steve had certainly seen his share of trouble. Or maybe that was part and parcel of his career, roughing it up with the bad guys. For some reason she was suddenly glad that she was the one who’d found him in the alley. She was the one who could bring him to safety. Wherever that may be.
The falling snow had covered her windshield, creating a cocoonlike atmosphere in the car. Tucked in with Steve, and with Murphy sleeping in the back, she realized how tired she was. Lack of sleep was catching up with her now. And the storm was raging worse than ever. She had no choice but to continue. They’d never ride out the storm on the side of the road.
She pulled back out onto the highway, nearly losing control of her car when her back tires spun out. Gripping the wheel tighter, she slowed, steered into the skid and got control of the car. It had been three years since she’d driven in snow; she’d best remember that.
As she drove down the road toward Rawhide, she debated her options for Steve. If she could keep going until they got to Rawhide, she could take him to the small hospital her brother-in-law and her cousin ran. There would be someone on duty all night long.
But that someone would be a nurse, not Caroline or Jon. There would be talk.
Or she could go straight to Caroline’s house. But her husband, Mike, a wonderful man, was also the sheriff for the surrounding area. He would have to report Steve’s gunshot wound, according to law.
Jessica decided it might be better to go to her sister’s house. Tori was married to Jon, Caroline’s partner. Maybe Jessica and Tori could gang up on Jon and convince him to delay reporting the wound for a day or two.
It wasn’t as if Steve had done anything wrong. At least, she hoped not. She’d believed him when he’d said he’d discovered some bad things about his partners and was trying to prove it. Sure, she could have examined the contents of the manila envelope, looking for proof, but he’d trusted her with it, and she didn’t want to betray that trust.
It was almost two in the morning when she pulled into the short driveway to her sister’s house. She didn’t remember to turn off her lights until after they’d hit the house. Jessica hurriedly shut them off and killed the engine, coasting down the drive.
Taking a deep breath, she expelled it slowly, trying to relax after the strain of driving so long. She looked over at Steve, sleeping soundly. She’d need him awake and coherent to get him into the house.
A knock on her side window almost made her jump straight up and bang her head on the ceiling of the car. Her heart slowed down a little when she identified Jon, her brother-in-law, peering in the window.
She unlocked the door and opened it. “Jon! Did I awaken you? I’m sorry.”
“No problem. We’re both up with Jamie’s 2:00 a.m. feeding.”
“Oh. Uh, Jon, I…have someone with me.”
“You mean Murphy?” Jon asked, but his eyes were searching the darkness in the SUV.
“No. He’s a friend.”
“Well, wake him up and come on in.”
“Okay, but he may need some help.”
“Why? Is he sick?”
“Sort of.” Jessica turned to her passenger, pushing against him. “Steve.”
“What?” he growled.
“We’re at my sister’s house. We need to go inside.”
“’Kay.”
Jon said, “Should I go around and help him? Does he have the flu?”
“No, he’s been shot,” Jessica said, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep it secret for long, even if she tried.
“What? Has he seen a doctor?”
“No. I’ll explain when we get inside.”
“I’m counting on that,” Jon said in a determined voice. He circled the vehicle and pulled open the door. “Here, lean on me,” he said as Steve slipped from the SUV to the ground.
Murphy, suddenly aroused, jumped into the front and followed Jessica out into the snow. He bounded beside her, seemingly thrilled with the events.
“No, Murphy, we’re not going to play. We’re going inside,” Jessica informed her dog, who seemed to understand because he raced ahead of her to the front door.
Tori was standing at the door, anxiously watching. When Jessica came in, she hugged her sister. “Sorry for disturbing you,” Jessica said. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”
Her sister was already looking past her, to the man her husband was helping to the door. “Who’s this?”
“Um, it’s Steve,” Jessica replied.
“Who is Steve?”
“It’s a long story. Oh! I forgot something. I’ll be right back.” Jessica ran back out to her vehicle and got the manila envelope out from under the driver’s seat. If it contained the evidence Steve said it did, she knew he’d want it safely with him.
Back in the house, Jon had put Steve on the sofa and opened his shirt. He was removing the bandage when Jessica got back.
“Does it look bad? I did the best I could.”
“Looks like the bullet is still in there. Why didn’t you take him to a doctor?” Jon asked sternly.
“Because he refused. He said he was a DEA agent and he had evidence that his partners had gone bad. If I took him to a doctor or called the police, he was sure he’d be killed.”
Jon frowned. “You know I have to report the wound, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I thought— I hoped maybe you wouldn’t have to report it right away. I want him to be