All I Need (Hearts of the South) (18 page)

“I don’t get why she doesn’t love you.” Clark shrugged. “You’re fucking awesome.”

Emmett laughed in spite of himself. “I told you, I’m not going gay for you. Quit trying so hard.”

“I’m halfway serious. Everything you listed about her, I could say about you, except for the emotional circles part. That’s not your style, and I don’t get why you let her do that.”

“I don’t know.” He scrubbed both hands down his face. “I need her and I want her, so when I get around her, it makes me stupid.”

“Makes perfect sense.” Humor hitched Clark’s mouth into a wry smile. “I’ve never seen you this stupid over any woman.”

“She’s the first one that mattered.”

“Explains why you’re not moving on, which was going to be my next suggestion.” Swinging his hands in a slow pivot, Clark frowned. “I wonder what the deal is.”

“I don’t know. Something happened. She said she wasn’t ready to talk about it with me yet.” A horrible possibility bloomed in his mind. “Maybe someone hurt her.”

“So you asked her, and she said she wasn’t ready to talk about it.” Clark shook his head. “Hell, boy, you have a long row to hoe.”

“You’re not helping.”

“She’s going to be pissed off because you rejected her.”

Like that hadn’t already occurred to him. He was so seriously screwed it wasn’t funny.

* * * * *

Cases, minor and major, slammed the ER, and Savannah took advantage of the deluge to keep her thoughts squarely off what had—or maybe what had not—happened with Emmett. Thinking about it made her want to put her head down and weep, so she simply wasn’t going to think about it.

She dropped the chart from the possible appendicitis she’d sent upstairs to surgery in the pile and made yet another mental note to harangue SGM about getting them online.

“Hey, are you between exams?” Mackey leaned on the counter, his expression grim. Stress vibrated off him in a way that reminded her of the very man she was trying
not
to think about.

The guy was always even and collected. What was up with him? “Yes.”

“Great.” He shoved a chart and folder of forms at her. “I need you to take exam four.”

“Okay.” With a quizzical look, she accepted the items. “Why?”

“It’s a domestic violence involving one of our former nurses, she doesn’t want me to do the exam, which is great because I don’t want to break and cry on her, and Layla is tied up with the obstructed stoma in exam two.”

“Got it.” She pushed away from the counter. “Domestic violence is an automatic law-enforcement referral.”

“He’s already here, in the waiting room. Let Lorraine know when you want him back.”

“He? There’s not a female officer available? What about the counselor from the crisis center? Is she on her way?”

“She asked for him specifically.” Mackey shrugged, features tight. “And she doesn’t want Tori here. I asked. Her attorney is with her, though, and Haley’s in there already, doing the triage.”

“All right. Thanks.” On the way to exam four, she straightened her shoulders and pulled in a breath. With her game face securely in place, she knocked once and waited.

“Come in,” a low female voice answered.

Savannah pushed the heavy wooden door inward. The patient sat on the end of the exam table, her trim frame swamped by the paper gown. Blonde hair, swept into a loose knot, framed a face that showed the remnants of a stressed and sleepless night, but no bruises. A finger at the patient’s pulse, Haley eyed the blood pressure cuff on the woman’s arm. Above the cuff, bruises darkened from red to purple. Maybe a little more than twenty-four hours old.

Delayed care. Savannah ticked off the domestic-violence indicator in her head and laid the chart and folder on the table. She swept her gentlest possible smile across the patient and her lawyer, a professionally dressed brunette in her midthirties. Savannah flipped the chart open. “I’m Dr. Mills, and you are—”

Landra Beck Washburn
.

Oh, hell. There couldn’t be two women with the name Landra and a maiden name to match Emmett’s surname in a town this small.

She recovered quickly and smiled at Emmett’s sister. “Mrs. Washburn.”

“Landra.” Her tone cold and removed, she stared at the wall beyond Savannah’s shoulder. “Do not call me Mrs. Washburn.”

“Of course.” Savannah pulled the rolling stool forward and settled on it, putting her almost eye-to-eye with Landra. “Dr. Mackey said you didn’t want him to do your exam, but before we go any further, I need to let you know I think your brother is one of my friends, in case you want another provider.”

“I don’t care.” Voice brittle, Landra lifted her hands. “I just know I don’t want Jay to do this, and you can’t talk to Emmett about anything that goes on in here anyway, so I’m good. I want this over with.”

“Okay.” Savannah kept her gaze on Landra’s expressionless blue eyes, the one point of resemblance between her and her brother. “The investigator from the sheriff’s department is here. How do you want the reporting to work? We can do it first or after—”

“Go ahead and call him back.” She gestured toward the brunette with her. “And Autry stays too.”

“Whatever you want.” Savannah lifted her gaze toward the other woman and nodded.

“Autry Reed.” She extended a hand. “I’m Landra’s friend and attorney. We need to medically document her injuries, and she needs to have those treated as necessary. There are…jurisdictional…issues, but Investigator Calvert will take the initial report.”

“Temp is normal, pulse is 83, and BP is elevated at 122 over 70.” Haley had already removed the cuff, but now she jotted numbers on the chart and glanced at Savannah before passing the chart over. With a soft smile, Haley rested her hand atop Landra’s, a gesture suggesting a long friendship. “Probably normal under the circumstances.”

While Haley phoned Lorraine to send Investigator Calvert back, Savannah skimmed the intake form. Thirty-two years old, five-eight, a hundred thirty-seven pounds, no medical allergies, no prior surgeries, fifteen weeks pregnant. Reported physical trauma to her arms, torso and legs. Pregnant
and
delayed care after a physical assault. She kept her face expressionless and laid the chart aside.

A low knock sounded at the door. Savannah lifted her gaze to Landra’s in silent inquiry. Giving control back, however small the increments, was crucial in a domestic-violence situation. Landra’s throat moved in a hard swallow. “Come in.”

The tall, dark-haired detective who entered wore the same dark-green department polo and khakis Savannah associated with Rob and Emmett. He rested his hands at his hips, above his badge and gun, and graced Landra with a gentle smile. “Hey, Landra.”

A tremulous response flitted across Landra’s mouth and disappeared. “Hey, Tick.”

“I’m sorry about this.” He shook his head, brows drawing together. “Are you sure you don’t want Tori over here?”

“Oh, God, no. She’ll be nice to me and I’ll lose it.” She cast a desperate look around at all of them. “I can’t handle nice today.”

“Got it.” He pulled a chair away from the wall, placed it next to Savannah’s stool, and straddled it, his gaze on Landra’s. “This is your rodeo. How do you want to play it? You want to talk to me or let Dr. Mills here do her stuff first or what? I do need to get some photos, but I can do that during the exam if you don’t mind.”

“That works.” Landra blew out a long exhale, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “Can I talk while she does the exam and you take photos? Maybe then it won’t take as long.”

“Sounds good to me.” Calvert slanted a sideways glance at Savannah, and she nodded.

Autry pulled a digital recorder from her pocket and laid it on the counter. “I’m going to record this.”

Savannah reached for a pair of gloves. “I want to do a quick physical exam, then we’ll do a sonogram to check the baby.”

“I think she—it’s okay.” Landra blinked hard. “I have a friend over at Leon Medical Center who works in L&D. I wasn’t bleeding or cramping afterward, and she did a quick sonogram yesterday. Everything looked okay, but I couldn’t do much more than that or anything official.”

“Mandatory reporting,” Calvert said quietly, and Landra nodded. Calvert looked at Savannah. “Husband’s a sergeant with Leon County.”

Landra rocked forward a little, slender fingers fluttering. “He’d have taken me home, like the last time.”

“Not everybody follows protocol.” Calvert’s mouth tightened. He gestured toward her arm. “I’m going to start with photos of those, okay, and you tell me what happened.”

The small digital camera whirred and beeped. Landra winced. Savannah motioned at the gown. “Are you ready to drop that for me? You can cover with the sheet as you need to, all right?”

Landra nodded and lowered the paper gown to her lap. A simple white bra covered her breasts, but highlighted the ugly bruising that marred her chest and abdomen. Savannah schooled her features and leaned in silently to examine the abrasions within the contusions.

“Holy hell,” Calvert whispered, and Savannah glared at him, only to find his sympathetic gaze locked with Landra’s. He shook his head. “I know I’m supposed to be all cool and nonreactive, but you know I suck at that sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know.” Landra lifted a trembling hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I remember.”

“Is that from a belt buckle?” Calvert shifted forward to get a closer shot at one of the lacerations above her right breast.

“Yes.”

Savannah’s stomach churned at the simple affirmative and the ugliness that lay behind it. “Haley, those need to be irrigated, then let’s use mupirocin, two percent.”

While Haley tended the lacerations on her shoulders and chest, Savannah checked for broken ribs and other injuries. Calvert snapped photo after photo, and Landra’s broken voice layered a story over the tableau, a story of violence erupting from a pregnancy unwanted by her husband and her own desire to leave a marriage filled with unpredictability, infidelity, and aggression.

The contusions and lacerations told their own story, extending from thigh to shoulder, over her spine and concentrating around the slight swell of her unborn child. Once Calvert documented each injury with painstaking care, he balanced a clipboard on his knee and his pen scratched across paper as he recorded Landra’s narrative. Savannah and Haley helped Landra lie down, and Savannah squirted warmed gel across the end of the sonogram transponder.

Landra’s gaze stayed on the ceiling as grainy images of her baby bloomed on the screen. Savannah checked the placement of the placenta and the status of the amniotic sac, as well as the baby’s heartbeat. Everything looked good.

Autry turned off the recorder and returned it to her purse. Calvert laid his pen atop the report and leaned forward. “Landra, you’ve not told Emmett the extent of this, have you?”

She tensed visibly. “No.”

“I guessed not. He was pretty normal this morning, and I can imagine if he was aware of everything, we might have an issue on our hands.”

“You think?” A ruefully affectionate smile curved Landra’s mouth, the first real one Savannah had witnessed yet. It was weird, this small interlude with people who knew Emmett better than she did, showing her how little she really did know, how much more she wanted to know.

“I’m pretty sure he’d go ballistic, and I have a vested interest in keeping him around. My department has never run so smoothly.” He rested a forearm on his thigh. “I also know the two of you don’t normally keep secrets either, despite y’all being out of contact lately. I can’t tell you what to do, but you might want to consider telling him.”

“Are you nuts? He’d kill Frank.”

“Honey, after seeing that—” Calvert gestured at her torso while Haley helped her sit up and clean off the sonogram gel, “—I might help him. Take him out somewhere, let Emmett beat him down, toss the body in the farm incinerator, and we’re all good.”

Autry glared at him. “Tick, really?”

“And if we got caught, my wife has money.” A grim smile quirked at Calvert’s mouth. “We could hire a legal dream team.”

“You are so not funny. And no, I’m not telling Emmy.” Landra shook her head. She lifted an arm to allow Haley to clean and treat the small lacerations on her abdomen. “I was in this room with him when he went into V-fib, remember? That shooting changed everything for him, and he’s just getting his life back in order. I am not doing anything to mess that up.”

In the act of recording notes on Landra’s chart, Savannah stilled. V-fib? In their interactions, he’d glossed over any discussion of the shooting and the aftermath. She’d known it had changed his career, but…

The idea of his being that near to death shook her more than she wanted to admit.

“Landra, I know it might feel like we’re ganging up.” Autry leaned against the wall. “But you’re going to need an ally, and we both know as close as you two are, Emmett’s your best bet. Besides, Tick will tell you that domestic abusers—”

“—are unpredictable and dangerous.” Calvert tapped his pen on his clipboard. “He got shot responding to a routine domestic, remember? If you’re staying with him, I don’t think it’s fair to let him think all Frank did was grab you and push you around, when the reality is so much deeper. If Frank shows up, what do you want Emmett prepared for?”