“And you’re not married…so what’s wrong with you?” Jake heard Katy ask R.C., cocking her head to one side. She said it with the tone and inflection conveying her belief that every adult was supposed to be married. They were sharing a handful of M&M’s, obviously having an in-depth conversation about R.C.’s life. Katy loved to meddle.
“No, but I have a trophy girlfriend…She’s…how can I put this…she’s a professional dancer and—” But before R.C. could complete the sentence, Ollie laid a firm hand on his shoulder. R.C. knew better than to provide any more details.
“A dancer…eeeww…I took dancing lessons and hated it. So what does R.C. stand for?” she innocently asked.
“Well…um…it stands for Ralph Carmelo,” he said shyly. He really didn’t want to tell her.
“I like R.C. better,” she replied instantly. Everybody within hearing range laughed out loud.
With that exchange, Jake knew that Katy was all right. He let out a deep sigh of relief, then looked around the ER. All this was the consequence of his decision to use deadly force to protect her. The bloody images of the shooting at the camper flashed through his mind, followed by the image of Elizabeth’s attacker, then the horrifying sight of the dead stalker he had left in the swamp. Jake knew many new nightmares were ahead. He wondered if he would ever be able to go into dark woods again. He started to question having killed the first guy. He’d always second-guess that decision. Jake’s mind was spinning out of control. He stared blankly across the room.
“Hey, are you OK?” Ollie asked, grabbing Jake’s arm.
“Yeah, yeah…I’m sorry. What was I saying? I’m just totally exhausted.” Jake started shaking and rubbing his forehead with his right hand.
Ollie opened the supply closet door and led Jake inside. Ollie wanted to debrief him—to make certain there was nobody else out there, and he was anxious to hear Jake’s version of the events.
Something in Jake’s vest hit the doorjamb as he entered. He reached into his pocket; feeling his cell phone, he shook his head. He checked it. Twenty-one missed calls. The last twelve were from his home. He smiled. For the first time in years, Jake really wanted to talk with Morgan. In fact, he yearned to see her.
“Hey, Sheriff, can I please have a minute to call my wife?” Jake begged. He knew the sheriff needed to question him, but he had to talk with Morgan.
Ollie understood.
The sheriff’s attention shifted briefly to Marlow, who could be seen through the glass ER doors waving his arms in front of a television camera.
What an idiot
. “Sure…take your time. I’ll be out here,” Ollie replied as he turned over a cleaning bucket to make a seat for Jake. “Everybody gets one phone call.” He chuckled, closing the closet door behind him.
The End
Bobby Cole is a native of Montgomery, Alabama, and president of Mossy Oak
®
Biologic
®
. In addition to his side gig as a writer, he is an avid wildlife manager, hunter, and supporter of the Catch-A-Dream
™
Foundation. He lives with his wife and daughter in West Point, Mississippi.
The Dummy Line
is his first novel.