Cole in My Stocking (38 page)

That was a relief, but only a small one. I didn’t want Gonzo to die. I didn’t want him to go free, either. “I think Gonzo hit Cole with his car. The other guy—Billy?—said something about it.”

Glenmore nodded. His brows lowered. In the shadow of his police cap, he looked downright sinister. “We’ve got Billy at the station now. Soon as I see you settled at Exeter, I’ll go interview him about what happened before they came here.” Cops didn’t like when other cops got hurt. If Gonzo had really hit Cole with his car, he was going away for a long time. If he lived.

Jeremy pressed his fingers along the back of my neck. “Any pain here?”

I licked my lips and told him it was just my knee and face that hurt. As he and another medic lifted me onto a stretcher, he grinned down at me and said, “The gunsmith’s daughter beaned herself with a gun. You’re never going to live that one down.”

I might have grinned with him if I weren’t sick over why I’d had to pull the trigger and over the potential consequences.

“As far as reputations go, that’s one I think I can handle.”

And I would be handling it for a long time, since I’d already decided to make Newburgh my home again. Provided Cole would be okay and didn’t mind if his roomie extended her stay permanently.

Chapter 28

The curtain to my ER bay got swept open, and two of the most welcome faces came into view. Stacey’s brows were slanted with worry as she pushed a wheelchair that held none other than my battered, hospital-gown-wearing, intense-eyed boyfriend.

“Jesus, baby, you had me so worried,” Cole said as Stacey wheeled him beside my gurney and set the brake. One side of his face was raw with road rash, and his left arm was in a sling.

“Me? What about you?” I asked, reaching for him. “I was beside myself. All I heard was you got hit and were in the hospital. How are you? Are you okay?” I’d been at the ER half an hour without a word of news about Cole.

Glenmore had left me a few minutes ago to find out whatever he could. His tall frame, made bulky by his police-issue parka, appeared in the curtain opening. The chief’s mouth was smiling but his eyes were weary beneath the bill of his cap. He nodded at me and stepped back to close the curtain and give the three of us some privacy.

Cole stood up out of the wheelchair and came into my arms, bending over the bed and bracing himself with his good arm. “Dislocated my shoulder and have a concussion, but I’ll mend.”

“A concussion? You should be in bed,” I told him.

Stacey snorted.

“Nothing was going to keep me from my girl,” Cole said, melting my heart.

“Now that I know you’re both going to be okay, I’m going to hit up the Starbucks in the lobby,” Stacey said. Winking at me, she slipped out to leave me and Cole alone.

“Heard you took the hammer of my .45 to your face.” His gaze zeroed in on the blooming bruise on my cheek. He kissed it then nudged me over and lay down beside me, moving gingerly and with much wincing. We were crammed together between the bedrails, and I loved it. Once he was settled, he said, “So sorry I wasn’t there for you tonight, honey. Should have guessed Gonzo might be in it. He and Brock are tight.”

I rocked my head on the pillow. “You’re a cop, not a mind reader.”

“Mind reading would sure come in handy sometimes, though.”

My cheek throbbed when I smiled. I cupped the non-scraped up side of his face. “I’m so glad you’re okay. What happened? Did Gonzo hit you with his car?”

“Tried to. We’re still piecing it together from what I remember and what the guy I pulled over saw. All I knew was this car came out of nowhere headed the wrong way on one-oh-one. The guy I was writing a ticket for said the car approached at speed in the breakdown lane without its lights on. Was headed straight for the nose of his Jeep. The car swerved out at the last minute and angled back toward the front driver’s side panel of the Jeep, right where I was standing.

“Glenmore confirmed the description of the car. It was Gonzo’s. He thinks Gonzo drove by, saw me writing a ticket and pulled a U-ey. Don’t know why yet. Maybe this guy, Billy, they’ve got in custody at Newburgh PD will be able to shed some light on it. All I can think is Gonzo was pissed at me over what happened with Brock and drunk enough not to be thinking clearly. Heard he was after that money tonight. Must’ve driven straight to my place to bully you after trying to take me out of the equation.”

“Guess no one told him the money’s in the FBI’s custody now.”

“Guess not. Would have saved himself a gunshot wound to the chest if he’d just kept on driving tonight. Or better yet, if he hadn’t gotten behind the wheel after getting sloshed.”

“Have you heard anything? How is he?”

“In surgery. Don’t know yet. But you did the right thing. Don’t you worry about that, yeah?”

I nodded. The sick feeling was back, but I tried to ignore it. I had Cole beside me, and he was going to be okay. That was all that mattered. “So, what happened on one-oh-one? Did you jump out of the way or something?”

Cole blew out a breath. “Happened so fast. It looked like I was about to get ground to a pulp between the cars, so I dove over the hood of the Jeep and landed hard on the shoulder. Knocked myself out. Gonzo side-swiped the Jeep and drove away. Soon as he got untangled from the airbag, guy in the Jeep dialed nine-one-one.”

He huffed. “Woke up with the guy I just wrote a ticket for tucking his coat under my head and telling me I’d be okay. Told Stace to tear up that ticket when she gets into work tomorrow.”

“Generous of you.”

“I can be a nice guy when I want to be.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” I leaned in and touched my lips to his, so relieved he was safe now. Tonight could have been so much worse.

Cole kissed me lightly. “Sorry to say it, honey, but we’re not going to be able to head back to Philly Friday. Mind if we take a week to recover and we’ll get you back when I’m out of this sling?”

I smiled big and didn’t care that it hurt my face like crazy. “Hmm. Maybe we should wait another couple of weeks after that. I’m going to need you at full strength to help me pack and move.”

When I’d called Marybeth earlier today, she’d told me PHMC didn’t get the grant they were counting on for funding next April. She was going to wait until after the holidays to announce it but figured she’d give me a heads up since I was calling. The reduction in funding meant they needed to start tightening the belt now so things could keep running after the new fiscal year began. Since I was the newest hire, my position was first up on the chopping block. Marybeth had already distributed my clients to the three other counselors. She’d apologized about telling me over the phone but figured with everything else going on with me, I’d rather know sooner than later. She’d been right.

I loved working at PHMC, but while I’d been at Dad’s shop on Sunday, I’d called Stacey, and she’d put me in touch with her friend Rochelle, whom I’d met at the holiday party. Rochelle was starting up a transitional-housing shelter in Haverhill. At the party, she’d mentioned she was looking for full-time staff to hire on as soon as possible, including a counselor. I hadn’t known about PHMC’s budget cuts yet, but had set up an interview with Rochelle for the following Monday. After the altercation with Brock, I’d had to cancel the interview to make time for Glenmore’s questions at Newburgh PD. Then, after running into Tooley on Tuesday, I’d put off calling Rochelle to reschedule. I’d begun doubting whether I could really make Newburgh my home again. But after last night with Cole, I’d redoubled my determination to try.

As soon as I’d gotten off the phone with Marybeth this morning, I’d called Rochelle. She’d agreed to interview me next Monday. All day I’d been looking forward to Cole getting home from his double shift so I could surprise him with the news. Rochelle’s shelter wasn’t a sure thing, but it was an opportunity. There was a chance I could do what I loved and live in Newburgh, with Cole.

His eyes widened. “Help you move?”

“Yeah. Decided I can’t live without your awesome shower. Hope you don’t mind if your houseguest becomes a long-term roommate.”

His eyes crinkled. “Seriously?”

I nodded, grinning like an idiot. I probably made quite the sight with my swollen cheek and no makeup since I’d dressed in such a rush to go to the hospital. “Actually, it’s not your shower I can’t live without, though it is awesome. It’s you. I’ve been making plans all day to make it work because I love you, Cole. I want to be with you. In Newburgh.”

Cole’s mouth curved in the happiest smile I’d ever seen on his handsome face. “Might as well make it official, then. Soon as I’m cleared to drive, we’re going to the mall to pick out a diamond.”

“Are you proposing to me, Officer Oakley?”

“Not yet. Just telling you to be prepared.”

“Dad always believed in being prepared.” I sobered as I remembered the strange experience I’d had before going outside tonight. If I hadn’t gone back upstairs to get Cole’s .45, I hated to think what might have happened.

“Gripper had a lot of faults, but he was a smart man.”

“Yes. He was.”

“And he raised one hell of a daughter. Love you, baby.” He kissed me.

It didn’t matter that we were both banged up and lying on a hospital gurney. We were together, and we were going to stay that way. For a long, long time. Hopefully a lifetime.

* * * *

“Easy does it, honey.” Cole walked slowly by my side while I used my crutches to limp across the frozen grass toward Mom’s grave. It was a week after New Year’s. His shoulder had mended enough for him to drive, and my sprained knee was almost completely healed. Today would be my last day with the crutches. Cole still sported a patch of road rash on the left side of his face, but it didn’t detract from how handsome he was. Not one bit. He claimed the bruise on my right cheek didn’t make me any less beautiful either. I had my doubts, but then that was what concealer was for.

The cemetery in Shirley that housed Mom’s grave was set amidst rolling hills dotted with trees that looked bare and craggy this time of year but would be lush and green in the spring. A cold wind lifted my hair and the tails of the scarf Bernice had given me.

“Feels like a storm coming,” Cole said. He’d parked as close as he could to Mom’s plot, but we’d had to walk up a gentle rise and down a long row of graves. When we reached her headstone, he stooped to lay the roses I’d bought. “You want some time alone?” he asked, his breath puffing in the afternoon chill.

“No. I’m good.” I laced my fingers with his and thought about Mom. After a while, I said, “I’m looking forward to getting Dad beside her, where he belongs. I think he’ll be at peace then.”

Cole kissed the side of my head. “Glad you’ll be sticking around to see that happen in the spring.”

I let the crutches fall to the ground and hugged him with both arms around his waist. “Me too.” I intended to be around for a lot of springs.

I’d met with Rochelle, crutches and all, and she’d hired me on the spot. I would start next Monday. There were no residents at the shelter yet, since it hadn’t officially opened, but there was a lot of preparatory work to do. I couldn’t wait to get my hands dirty with the painting and scrubbing she had planned. Hopefully my knee would be up to it.

Besides my landing a new counselling job, a lot had happened in the last week. Gonzo had made it through two surgeries and was still in intensive care. Once he recovered, he would be transferred to Rockingham County Jail to await trial, most likely without bail. Detective Vance had obtained a warrant and searched Gonzo’s home. He’d found Dad’s guns minus three of them that had likely been given to the safe cracker as payment. He’d also found a scanner set to the state patrol frequency. Gonzo wasn’t healthy enough yet to meet with his lawyer and be read his charges, but it sure looked like he’d been Brock’s accomplice in the burglary and arson of Dad’s trailer. The police were still looking for the safe cracker.

As for the incident on Route 101, Gonzo claimed to have no memory of trying to hit Cole with his car. Whether that was true or not, his friend Billy had tattled on him and was planning to testify to reduce his own sentence for his part in trying to kidnap me. According to Billy, Gonzo had recognized Cole when they’d driven by, swung the car around to drive the wrong way on the divided highway, and aimed right for him. The whole while, he’d been grumbling about how Cole had arrested Brock and how I’d shot Brock and supposedly tampered with Dad’s will to screw over Tooley. Apparently in his drunken state, he’d concluded that Cole and I had it out for him and his friends. When he’d spotted Cole, he recognized an opportunity for some payback. Billy claimed he tried to talk Gonzo out of driving to Cole’s house after the hit-and-run, but I wasn’t buying that. Billy had clearly been on board with the plan to find that money when they’d been trying to get me into the car.

I was just glad no serious harm had been done to either Cole or me and that Gonzo’s drunk driving hadn’t harmed anyone else. And I was glad Gonzo and Brock would be paying for what they’d done. There was no excuse for stealing, period, but they’d stolen from their deceased friend and had tried to steal even more. That was just despicable. They both deserved whatever sentences they got.

The estate stuff was moving along nicely. I decided to sell the property and all Dad’s equipment to the buyer in Vermont. It would be simpler than selling everything piecemeal, and after everything that had happened, I was okay with simple, even if it meant a little less of an inheritance for me. Harold Glasby was working out the deal.

In the meantime, now that we were both mostly mended, Cole was planning to help me sell Dad’s truck and Harley. I planned to use the money to pay down Dad’s credit card debt. After selling Dad’s property and gunsmithing equipment, I would be able to pay down all the medical bills. There would be a little left over to bring down my student loans and give me some financial breathing room. That would help with the move. But honestly, I would have made the move work no matter what.

I couldn’t live away from Cole. He was my rock, my Officer Oakley. He was more important to me than everything I’d come to love about Philly. He deserved me stepping out of my comfort zone. He deserved my best, and I planned to give it to him.