Gone From Me: Hearts of the South, Book 10 (18 page)

“Over here,” Troy Lee yelled. The motor grew louder as the boat puttered closer. Rob winced at the bright shaft of light skimming over his face. A radio beeped for transmission.

“We got ’em.” Calvert’s words rose and fell against the background noise of the water as he called in coordinates and procedures. “I need at least two Level II personnel in Reed’s boat. We’re going to execute a double throw and tow, one to each boat.”

Rob pounded Troy Lee’s shoulder. “They’re going to have to take you first. I’ll disconnect us once they’re set up.”

The setup involved waiting long minutes for the first boat to anchor in position and Calvert throwing a float bag close enough for Troy Lee to grab and tether himself. Rob cinched the gun belt tighter around the tree. Somehow, he hurt less and the waiting was easier knowing someone was actually coming for him.

He lost Troy Lee’s head and shoulders in the dark as they towed him toward the boat, which was barely visible beyond its blue light and the spotlight glaring on the water. The spotlight offered him a glimpse of Calvert, in a flotation vest, leaning down to pull Troy Lee on board. “You had to take out another car, didn’t you, Troy Lee?”

Rob rested his head on the tree and smiled at the relieved affection in Calvert’s tone. If Troy Lee replied, his voice wasn’t strong enough to carry above the water. Rob stared into the dark as the boat puttered away. He refused to close his eyes, afraid that sleep would take him unawares.

He hadn’t fought this hard to give up now.

How much time passed he wasn’t sure, but he kept his feet braced firmly on the tree. With the shared body warmth gone, renewed shivers attacked his frame. He hunched as much as he could.

A boat motor puttered in the distance.
Thank You, Jesus
.

“Bennett.” He recognized Sheriff Reed’s voice, carrying across yards of running water.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to move in a little closer. Wilson will light up the water, and I’ll get the float as close to you as possible. You ready?”

“Yes, sir.” He’d have to undo the belt holding him to the tree. He had to get that float the first time—he wasn’t sure how long, if at all, his weary muscles would be able to hold out against the persistent current.

The spotlight beam hit the water in front of him, revealing a brown, churning mass. Keeping his good arm around the tree, he released the gun belt. The orange-red float bag, attached to a yellow rope clearly visible in the dim light, arced toward him. He eyed the incoming object the way he would the ball during a pick-up game.

The throw was short. Damn if he was going to risk a second one. With the last bit of effort in his leg muscles, he lunged forward in an awkward dive and managed to wrap an arm around the float bag. The rope tautened, and he tightened his grip as they towed him toward the boat.

The water slapped at him and the boat, but within minutes he was able to grip the edge of the boat. Wilson leaned down to hook his hands under Rob’s arms and drag him aboard. Rob collapsed on the cold metal bottom, breath coming hard and teeth chattering.

Wilson tugged him to a sitting position and draped a light emergency blanket around his shoulders. “Let’s get you back to shore.”

“Sounds good.” He finally let himself close his eyes, let the drone of the motor wash over him with comforting regularity. His eyes snapped open as safety brought focus with it once more. “Wilson, who’s with my wife? Does she know I’m okay?”

“Her partner and her sister.” Sheriff Reed slowed their progress, his gaze on the bank, crawling with emergency personnel. “I called in your status to be relayed to her, and I do believe that’s her on the bank waiting for you.”

At the smile in Reed’s voice, he strained his tired eyes, trying to find her in the dim figures backlit by emergency lights. There, on the roadway, safely away from the water, and Savannah with her, an arm about her waist. Relief and an overwhelming desire to be near her crashed through him. He’d never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

The boat bumped gently against the bank, and he pushed to his feet before Reed had even thrown out the rope to tie off. His legs protested, weak muscles refusing to hold him, knees trying to buckle, and Wilson wrapped a strong hand around his arm. “Easy.”

“Easy, my ass.” She’d been terrified, he could see it in the stiff line of her body, the hands covering her mouth—he couldn’t see the trembling or the tears, but he knew they were there. He damn well meant he would get to her as quickly as he could, so the reality of touching him might soothe that terror. He needed her touch too. “Help me out of this damn boat.”

His feet sank in mud he could barely lift out of. Wilson steadied him and used his hold to propel them both up the bank.

Amy shook off Savannah’s arm and ran to meet him. She threw herself into his arms as his feet hit the pavement. His knees buckled, but he closed his arms about her, grateful for Wilson’s hand at his back. He stiffened his legs and held on, face buried in her hair. She shook against him, so he wasn’t sure where his own tremors stopped and hers began. He held her, real and warm and shaking, as close to him as he could.

“Oh, Rob.” Her hands touched all over his back, up his neck, and across his shoulders. Making sure he was real, he knew. She drew back, cradled his face in her hands. The whirling red lights from a fire truck glimmered off her tear-stained face. She stroked her fingers across one cheek, his skin stinging under her touch. “Oh, baby.”

“It’s okay.” He held her face so he could see her eyes. His own fingers trembled wildly against her skin. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

She wrapped her hands around his forearms, hard, and agony shot through his injured arm. He hissed in a breath, but didn’t let go.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” She released him and twisted in his arms, desperation in her movements. “Savannah, come here.”

“Babe, it’s fine.” His teeth chattered again, and he fought off a wave of vertigo. Shit, he was going to fall down if he didn’t sit down soon. Maybe Wilson wouldn’t let him fall on his ass.

“It’s not fine. You’re hurt and you’re shaking and…” She pulled in a deep breath. “I want Savannah to check you out. Please, Rob.”

“We’ve got paramedics on hand,” Wilson offered, and Rob chuckled.

“She’s an ER doctor, Wilson, and I doubt she’s going to let anybody else do it.” He wrapped his arm tighter around Amy. “She’s as stubborn as her sister.”

“Who’s stubborn?” Savannah took his chin in her hand as she reached them and turned his face to the side. “Unlike your buddy’s head, that doesn’t need stitches.”

“His arm’s hurt.” Amy didn’t release him, her fingers digging into his waist like she would never let him go. Hell, she was holding him up, when his legs threatened to give out beneath him. His eyes burned, his throat suddenly tight and choked.

Savannah’s expression softened. “Let’s see if they’ll let us borrow an ambulance and I’ll look him over.”

Borrow was probably a misnomer, as Savannah gently forced a paramedic to share his rig with her. Grateful for the chance to sit down before he fell down, he sagged inside the open back door. A deep sigh and inhale threatened to turn into a sob, and he breathed through it, forehead resting on his hand, elbow on his knee.

“Amy, you have to let us take care of him.” Savannah maneuvered Amy to one side and tilted his head back to place an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. “Can you hold that in place for us?”

He nodded, the warm rush of oxygen helping to settle him down and let him get his wildly veering emotions under control. Eyes closed, he simply breathed while Savannah and the medic took his pulse, listened to his breathing, and checked his temp and blood pressure.

“Rob.” Savannah tilted his head with a gentle hand. “Let me check your eyes.”

He complied, wincing at the bright beam bouncing across his pupils. Savannah smiled. “Good.”

“What’s your full name?” The medic started an IV in his uninjured arm.

“Robert Hamilton Bennett III.” He hissed at the burn traveling up his veins.

“You know what day it is?”

“Tuesday if it’s after midnight.” He sucked in a deep breath, lungs aching. “Which I’m pretty sure it is.”

“It is.” Savannah ran a gentle hand along his arm, stopping when he winced. “Tender there, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Make a fist for me.”

He did and bit back a yelp. Frowning, he eyed the activity beyond them. Calvert and Cook were conferring at the back of the coroner’s van.

The coroner.

What the hell?

“Try a thumbs-up. And make a star.” Savannah demonstrated, splaying all five fingers. He grimaced but complied, better prepared for the wave of pain that accompanied the movements. She swiped her thumb across his palm. “Yep, you’re sweating. You’re going to the ER for x-rays.”

“No.” He tried to stand, and she sat him down with a hand on his shoulder and ridiculous ease. “Why are they loading the coroner’s van? Where’s Troy Lee?”

“On the way to the ER for stitches. They pulled a body out of the water before they brought in the two of you.” Savannah tossed a look over her shoulder, then fixed him with a stern expression. Calvert tagged Cook’s arm and walked toward them. “And you are not going to be all strong, male and stupid and refuse the x-rays. I’m not letting you risk nerve damage to that arm.”

“She’s right.” Calvert cast an assessing gaze over him. He jerked a thumb toward the coroner’s van. “You’ll be interested to know that all signs point to that being Zeke Jenkins’s body.”

“What?” The oxygen mask fell to his lap. Savannah rolled her eyes, retrieved it and strapped it to his head. He brushed off her hands and lifted the mask so he could speak. “I need to—”

“Go get that arm taken care of and then catch some sleep.” One corner of Calvert’s mouth hitched in an amused smile that didn’t belie the firm command. “I understand the desire to chase a lead, but there’s no evidence to be found in that water and autopsies take time. You can talk to Ford at the crime lab when you wake up.”

A glance at the set faces around him and any desire to argue evaporated. He simply didn’t have the energy, and he was all on edge anyway. “Fine, but no one’s wheeling me into the ER.”

* * * * *

True to his word, he managed to walk up the ramp to the emergency room, an arm slung around Amy’s shoulders and Savannah’s muttering about stupid male pride ringing in his ears. After x-rays revealed a hairline fracture in his forearm and the ER doctor found nothing further amiss, he finally found himself headed the one place he longed to be—home with Amy.

In the driveway, he leaned against Amy’s car and adjusted the hook-and-loop closures on his arm brace while the sisters said their goodbyes. Savannah wrapped a quick hug around his neck. “Sleep well.”

He was dead on his feet. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“You’re taking care of Mom and Daddy, right? Tell them not to worry about us.” Amy slipped an arm about his waist. She hugged herself into him. “I’m taking care of him.”

“Your wish is my command, Queen Amy.” Savannah sketched a weary curtsy and walked to her car. “Call me if you need anything.”

In the laundry room, he removed the arm brace and stripped off his damp clothing. The reek of river water clung to him. “I need a shower.”

Amy trailed a finger down his neck. “Do you need help?”

“My stupid male pride thinks I can handle it.” He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her into him. He held on, face buried in the soft curve between her neck and shoulder. He needed a shower and sleep, but he needed her more.

She ran a hand down his back. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

In the shower, he rested his head on cool tile and let hot water work the tension out of his still-aching muscles. Closing his eyes brought flashes of memory from the night, and he blew out a long breath. Somehow he figured he’d be wrestling with this for a while. Finally, he shut the water off and stepped out, feeling almost human again.

He rubbed most of the water from his skin and draped the oversized white towel about his hips. In the bedroom, Amy waited, perched on the edge of their bed, her rain-dampened hair piled in a messy knot and her body wrapped in the thin lilac robe he’d bought her a couple of birthdays ago. Her brown eyes glimmering with a sheen of tears, she held out her arms.

He stepped between her thighs, and she rested her cheek against his abdomen. Hooking her fingers into the towel, she tugged it free and let it fall to the floor. She pressed a kiss just above the jut of his hipbone. “Oh, God, Robert.”

The tremulous words, breathed along his skin and full of her remembered fear and longing, broke him. He squeezed his eyes shut and lifted a hand to cover them. A harsh sob worked its way up from his chest, tearing free from his throat. He tangled his other hand in her hair, and a tear slid free to splash on her upturned face. With that one free, others followed, and he pressed his fist to his mouth, a futile attempt to stem the sobs wracking his body.

She pulled him down and forward to lie wrapped in her arms while she wrapped herself about him. She didn’t shush him or murmur comfort. He buried his face against her neck, and she held him, smoothing his hair and being his comfort. He wept until his chest hurt, until he couldn’t breathe but could finally breathe all over again, until there were simply no tears left.

And she simply held on until he fell into peace and sleep in her arms.

* * * * *

Sleep faded away. Midday light nudged his eyelids, and warmth pressed along his side. A familiar arm draped over his waist, a sweet clutching at his ribs. Without opening his eyes, Rob curved his uninjured hand around the back of Amy’s head and pressed his mouth to her forehead. Her hold on him tightened, and he lifted heavy lashes to look down at her. She gazed at him, her brown eyes haunted.

“Don’t look like that,” he whispered, his throat raw. He touched a finger to the corner of her mouth and shifted her even nearer to him. “It’s over.”

She tangled her legs with his. “I was so scared for you.”

“I know.” He nuzzled her temple. “But I meant I was coming back to you.”