Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (45 page)

Exhaustion set in and I drifted off again.

M M M

Someone digging in my collarbone with a razor blade woke me from the blessed nothingness of slumber. I jerked away. “Do you fucking mind? I’m trying to sleep.”

“And I’m trying to check your wound for an infection.”

I forced my eyes open. “Who are you?”

“Dr. Blair. I did your surgery two days ago.”

“You’re just getting around to checking on me now?”

“I’ve checked on you twice. You were out both times and I’m beginning to think that’s the best way to deal with you. Looks good. How’s your mobility?”

“Slow.”

“Th

en I’ll increase your physical therapy time.”

Great.

He dropped the side railing and lifted the blanket covering my lower half. “Let me look at your thigh.”

“You have to buy me dinner fi rst, doc.”

“Oh ho. I haven’t heard
that
one before.” Dr.

Blair slid my stunningly attractive faded blue cotton nightgown up my leg. More poking and prodding. It reminded me my ribs hurt. He muttered to himself as he rearranged the covers. “How do you feel?”

528

“Fuzzy. Everything is pretty good when I’m sleeping. When I wake up . . .” I glanced at the foot of the bed, away from his earnest assessment.

“Let’s focus on your physical injuries fi rst.” Gloved fi ngers brushed my hair from my forehead. “Another nasty little gash I stitched up here. Now it matches the one on the other side.”

“I’d hate to be off balance.”

Dr. Blair chuckled. “Firecracker, aren’t you?”

Th

en he did the oddest thing: He perched on the side of my bed, his gaze scalpel sharp. “Here’s the deal.

I’ll discharge you tomorrow if you promise to keep up with physical therapy on a daily basis.”

“Okay.”

“
And
if you promise to talk to a mental health professional about the trauma you’re suff ering from.” He stopped my protest. “Th

e external physical injuries will

heal. You need to make sure you’re healing the psycho-logical ones also.”

“I’ll think about it,” I lied.

“Excellent. You can go home tomorrow. Do you have someone who can stay with you a few days?”

I opened my mouth to tell him I didn’t need a damn nanny, only to hear, “I’ll be staying with her, Dr . . .

Sugar, what did you say your name was?” Kim winked at me. “Since I’ll be doin’ her daily physical therapy, 529

maybe we oughta go over the instructions again, just so I don’t get confused,” she cooed as she drew him out of the room.

I didn’t want to look Kim in eye after what I’d done.

I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. I faced the wall and feigned sleep.

M M M

“Collins. Wake up.”

Déjà vu.

Couldn’t ignore Sheriff Richards’ summons.

I scowled at him. “What?”

He rubbed the brim if his hat, balanced on his knee.

“I need to talk to you.”

I noticed he hadn’t brought me fl owers. “You’re here in offi

cial capacity, then?”

“Yes, I am.”

An awkward moment ensued as my heart rate moni-tor spiked and beeped loudly

“First, I’m here to tell you you’ve offi

cially been

cleared in the shooting death of Leticia Standing Elk.”

Where was the relief I should’ve felt?

“It’s on the record as justifi able homicide by self-defense.

No charges will be fi led against you. Th

e case is closed.”

No sense of relief yet.

530

“Second, because of the inability to question the deceased Ms. Standing Elk over the allegations of her involvement in the homicide of Ben Standing Elk, that case will offi

cially remain open for the time being.”

Bitter tears stung the back of my eyes.

Sheriff Richards leaned forward. “Off record? I wish I could stamp ‘case closed’ and fi le it away once and for all. I’m damn proud of you, Julie, for sticking with it, if only for your own sense of justice for Ben.”

“Doesn’t feel as good as I thought it would, Sheriff .”

He studied me, sadness and understanding fi lled his eyes. “It never does.”

My shoulder started to throb and I knew it was close to time for more pain meds. “What else?”

“Th

e missing persons case involving Maria Dove.”

With all that’d happened, I’d forgotten about that and Sharon Dove’s confession about killing Roland Hawk. Had the guilt eaten at Sharon, forcing her to confess? “What about it?”

“Jeannie Colhoff admitted she killed Maria. I don’t know if it will matter.” His sigh went beyond exasper-ated. “Jeannie’s gotten herself an attorney. He’s fi led for a mental evaluation because she’s claiming temporary insanity due to rampaging pregnancy hormones at the time of the murder.”

“Th

is is a goddamn joke, right?”

531

Sheriff Richards frowned at my language. “No.

Since Jeannie hasn’t had so much as a parking ticket in the last fi ve years . . .”

He didn’t have to spell it out for me. “Th en how the

hell does she explain killing June Everett? She isn’t pregnant now, is she?”

“No. She’s denying she had anything to do with June’s death. Frankly, we’ve got no evidence to tie her to it, besides Jeff Colhoff ’s statement about fi nding June’s cell phone in Jeannie’s belongings.”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“You’d think so. But Jeff has fi led for divorce, for sole custody of the kids, and it’s his word against hers.

Jeannie’s attorney is claiming the only reason Jeff Colhoff wants June Everett’s death listed as a homicide instead of a suicide is because her life insurance policy pays double for accidental death. He’s listed as sole benefi ciary.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“Who’s her attorney?”

He scowled. “Charles LaChance.”

It fi gured.

“I’d rather have her convicted of a murder she confessed to than take a chance on losing it all.”

We chewed on that for a minute.

“Last thing. Roland Hawk was found dead outside 532

his place on the rez a couple of days ago. Th e BIA and

FBI contacted me because of the loose connections to the Dove case and the Standing Elk cases.” He studied me intently. “Hawk’s throat was slit, just like Ben’s. You think Leticia might’ve had something to do with it?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Th

ey’re leaning that direction, just to get the case closed. No one’s too broken up about Roland Hawk being dead anyway.”

I didn’t feel guilty no one cared about his demise.

“Th

at’s it. Don’t forget to send the county a bill for your investigative services. I appreciate everything you did.”

I said, “You’re welcome,” even when I knew I’d never send the bill.

Sheriff Richards stood and jammed his hat on his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Collins, but maybe you’d better rethink staying in the PI biz. Th is

is the fourth time you’ve been in the hospital in the last seven months. It’s not normal, it’s not healthy, and your luck is gonna run out one of these days.”

“I know.”

“But if you ever wanna come back to work for me, all’s you hafta do is ask.” He grinned. “It’ll have to wait a couple of weeks, though. I’m taking your advice. Bernice and I are bound for Hawaii. Aloha.”

533

I almost asked him to send me a postcard, but the nurse came in with my pain meds and when I looked up, he was gone.

M M M

A few hours later the chair next to my bed chirked.

I stayed still, silently willing the interloper to leave.

“You ain’t sleepin’.”

Jimmer. I slowly turned my head.

His paws were wrapped around the metal side rail.

“You look better than you did. Almost lost ya there, little missy.”

“Seems to be the consensus.” In the farthest corner of my mind, I remembered his voice. Cool. Determined. A lifeline to my future, not a hallucination from the past.

I dropped my gaze to the NRA logo on his T-shirt.

He knew. He’d seen it.

His voice was oddly gruff . “You done what you had to, Jules. No shame in that.”

Don’t cry. For Chrissake don’t cry in front of Jimmer.

He cleared his throat. “So they’re cuttin’ you loose tomorrow?”

“I guess.”

“Between Wells, Martinez, and the one-eyed won-534

der, you’ll have plenty of people to snarl at for takin’ care of you.”

I nodded.

“Good.” Jimmer paused and I watched him struggle. “I’m sure you’re gonna wanna trade that gun off after you get it back from the sheriff . Th ere’s a couple

of real sweet ones at the shop for you to try when you’re ready. I can make you a helluva deal.”

I set my hand over his and squeezed. “Th

anks.”

“No problem.” He towered over me, a gentle giant.

“Oh, I brought this.” He unrolled a
Bowhunter
magazine from his rear pocket. “You’ll need something for wastin’

time after you escape from this sawbones motel.”

“Why couldn’t I have fallen for you? You do have an incredibly sweet side, Jimmer.”

A horrifi ed expression creased his face. “Jesus Christ, don’t say that. And for fuck’s sake, don’t tell no one.”

“I won’t.”

Relief made him grin. “Not fallin’ for my special charms is your loss, little missy. I’m twice the man he is.” Cocky male smirk. “Literally.”

Yikes.

After he left I called the nurse and told her no more visitors. Period. Th

en I downed my pain medication

and returned to my safe haven: sleep.

535

Kevin brought me home and handed me off to

Martinez while Kim clucked around, a mother hen in training.

I explicitly told them all to leave me the hell alone and slammed the door to my bedroom.

Except no one listened. Appeared they’d all decided to move in instead.

Didn’t matter. I didn’t see anyone unless they barged into my room because I couldn’t get out of bed.

I couldn’t do anything but cry.

I cried until I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. I cried until I ran out of tears. I cried until it felt like my tear ducts were bleeding. My body just made more.

As my tears fell, I wondered what had happened to the tough girl who sucked it up. Th

e chick who kicked ass

536

and led with her fi sts and her chin. I cried for the loss of her too.

Martinez wasn’t cowed by my behavior. Every night he wrapped himself around me and attempted to chase my demons away.

Kim, that cheerful little torturer, forced me to do the physical therapy exercises every morning. When she suggested I’d feel better if I talked it out, no holds barred, I crawled back in bed, tunneled under the covers and ignored her.

My waking world was full of gruesome images.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw her. Leticia. Saw me pulling the trigger. Saw her bloody face. Saw me killing her. Over and over.

I wanted to forget. To hide. I went back to sleep.

Days passed. A week. Two weeks. Nothing

changed, inwardly or outwardly. I felt the impatience of those who’d taken on the burden of caring for me. I heard their whispers, questions on how long I’d be like this, wallowing, miserable. Lost.

Maybe forever.

Another epic daymare woke me. My room was dark even when the alarm clock read 2:00 in the afternoon.

I scrambled back and smacked my head into the head-board. “Fuck!”

Th

e door fl ew open, the lights came on. Kevin 537

looked at me and scowled as Martinez shouldered his way past him.

“I’m fi ne,” I said to no one in particular.

“No, you’re not fi ne,” Kevin said.

“Enough,” Martinez said. “She’s been babied enough by all of us.”

“Babied? After what she’s been through?”

“I know exactly what she’s going through.”

“Th

en why aren’t you helping her?” Kevin demanded.

Martinez stared at him without comment.

“Got no answer, Martinez?”

My throat closed and I couldn’t breathe.

“Get out,” Martinez said in that deadly tone.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Kevin shoved a hand through his hair. “Get through to her somehow. Jesus. Just . . . fi x her, okay?”

God. Even Kevin thought I was broken.

Kim bustled in to run interference and Kevin stormed out.

Martinez said, “Pack her a suitcase.”

“Where are you taking her?”

“Away.”

He rummaged in my closet, tossing a pair of jeans and a turquoise cashmere sweater on the bed. “Get dressed. Got fi ve minutes or you’re going in those ugly-ass pajamas.”

538

“No.”

“Don’t fucking push me. I’m not in the mood.”

“I don’t give a shit what you’re in the mood for.”

“Glad to see that temper back, but move it.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Wrong.”

“Fuck you, Martinez.”

“Best off er I’ve had in days. I’ll take it under consideration.”

I fumed. Didn’t budge an inch.

“Tick tock, blondie.” He spun on his heel and exited the room in a cloud of testosterone.

Kim was frantically jamming my clothes in a duff el bag she’d balanced on the rumpled bed.

“You don’t have to do what he tells you.”

“I know.”

“Th

en why are you?”

“Because he’s right.” Kim lifted her head. Black mascara tracks lined her face. “I miss you.”

“Kim, I’m right here.”

“Th

at’s not you. I miss the real Julie. Find her and bring her back to us, okay?”

I didn’t know what to say. Next thing I knew, my bags were in Martinez’ SUV and we were on the road.

M M M

539

A gorgeous, sunny day beckoned and I forewent sleep to drink in the sights of the great outdoors. Once we were in Rapid City, we drove down Jackson Boulevard and hung a right on Sheridan Lake Road. Past the housing developments, condos—fi nished and in progress—until the city limits and the suburbs were behind us.