Fire from the Midst, page 2
Wishful thinking, but once they were free of neighborhoods and on the city’s main roads, the cop picked up speed and so did they. At this time of night, traffic was relatively sparse, but not non-existent. Tracy wove in and out, back and forth, like the professional she was, keeping right on the police detective’s tail. In the meantime, Carter clutched Ellie as close as he dared, trying to shield her from bumps and swerves. He couldn’t see the speedometer, but knew they were driving way over the speed limit. He was grateful for that, even as his pulse raced with the need to get there quicker. The ride was wild and he felt helpless, reduced to doing nothing except murmuring stupid, incoherent phrases that nobody except Ellie could hear.
“Hang in there, honey. Stay with me. Don’t go anywhere. It’s okay, Ellie. We’ll be there soon. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. Hang in there, baby.”
Pointless statements that didn’t do a bit of good. Why he said them, he didn’t know. Maybe from an instinct of trying to calm or comfort her. Whatever the case, the drive to the hospital and help was far too fast and yet far too slow. And then they were pulling up in front of the ER, drawing to a stop behind the police officer’s car. She shut off her lights and siren even as the sliding glass doors opened and medical personnel came rushing outside.
“We’re here, Ellie. We made it.”
Chapter Three
“Better take this,” Tracy said, and tossed something at him. Carter shook it out, saw it was a shirt. “Brant donated it,” she added. “Put it on before you go inside.”
Ellie was already on her way in, strapped to a gurney. Carter had been in the act of following her when Tracy prevented him. His first reaction was to argue, but she was right. Showing up at the hospital under these circumstances with Ellie injured the way she was would raise questions. No need to worsen the impression by going in shirtless, splashed with blood, and looking even crazier.
Quickly, he tugged it on then jogged after the gurney, which had already vanished inside. What followed next was a blur. Ellie was immediately taken into surgery—no surprise there. He was barred from those proceedings, naturally, and shown to an empty waiting room down the hall. But not empty for long. Tracy came in soon after. Taking the seat next to his she slumped back, shutting her eyes. It was late and Carter understood her logic—that she might as well try to catch some sleep while Ellie was in surgery, since there was nothing they could do anyway—but neither was there any way he could rest.
Moments after Tracy’s arrival, the police detective entered. She looked grim as she approached, holding out her hand for him to shake. He stood and accepted the gesture out of courtesy, but there was nothing friendly about the cop’s demeanor.
“Carter Ballis? Detective Candace Ewing, Homicide. Our first chance to officially meet. I’m sorry it was under these circumstances, but I understand they got her into surgery. Can we talk for a minute?”
“I don’t have anything to say,” he growled.
“Carter.” Tracy spoke without ever opening her eyes, a quiet reprimand.
Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe she was right. This cop had done a lot for Ellie. Maybe he owed her courteousness, at least.
“Fine,” he said, folding his arms, “but I don’t know how much I can really say.”
The cop stared back unfazed, unblinking.
“I understand. A lot of this is off the record.”
“A lot? Make that all.”
“I can’t promise you that.”
“Then I can’t promise to talk to you.”
“Don’t you want to see the woman brought to justice who did this to that girl?” she asked, switching tactics.
“She will be,” Carter promised, fighting the urge to clench his jaw in anger at the thought of Nosizwe and her unprovoked attack on Ellie. He still didn’t understand her cryptic phrases or why the Stones had been there, down in the Pit. He didn’t understand any of it. But he was going to uncover the truth. More than that, he was going to make Sean’s rival pay for what she’d done.
“I can help you,” the detective offered, drawing his attention back to her.
He laughed harshly. “I doubt it.”
Detective Ewing rolled her shoulders, her neck, in an obvious attempt to relieve frustration.
“Look,” she said, “let’s be honest. I’m one of the few cops in this city who has any idea of what’s going on. What’s really going on, I mean.”
She meant shifters.
“I can work with you. Try to build a case against whoever is in the wrong here, but I need to know the whole story and what’s in the background. I know what I saw. What I don’t understand is why.”
That made two of them, but Carter didn’t say that aloud. Instead, “You know who was in the wrong as well as I do. That girl—” He jabbed a finger towards the doorway, the general direction of the surgery room. “—Never hurt anybody in her life. Ellie hasn’t done anything to deserve being attacked like that.”
“I believe you.”
The detective held up her hands in a soothing manner, which aggravated him all the more. He didn’t need to be soothed. He needed action. He needed blood. Nosizwe’s blood. Her people’s blood.
“If you believe that, why aren’t you out there hunting her down then?”
The cop refused to rise to the bait. She peered at him through narrowed eyes.
“It isn’t that easy,” she said finally. “You could be in a lot of trouble here too. I saw that body inside the church. Was that your work?”
Carter snorted in contempt. “That body will be gone before you ever get back to inspect the scene, Detective. You can’t prove I did it or that anyone even died there. I haven’t done anything except try to defend my wife.”
“Your wife?” The cop stated it like a question wrapped up in an observation. “Last I heard, your wife was out in Cambodia or something.”
“That’s right. She was.”
He stared her down, refusing to concede an inch.
“So, you two are together now.”
Another question phrased like a statement.
“Is that any of your business? We’re married. She’s my wife. And I haven’t done anything wrong. I saw my wife being threatened. Anything I did was to protect her.”
“I’m not just talking about this incident.”
“What else are you talking about then?”
The cop hesitated, then said quietly, “Last November. The Fort Worth Botanic Garden. You were there. You and her.”
Carter’s mind raced. The security cameras. Cops. The whole reason he and Ellie had gotten married.
“Were we?”
“You were caught on camera in the parking lot.”
“I don’t think you ever actually proved that, but so what if we were?”
“So, we found blood at the scene. Couple of other suspicious factors. You mean to tell me that you—them—your people…none of this had anything to do with that?”
Carter couldn’t hide a smirk.
“Number one, I’m not telling you anything. Clearly, you didn’t have enough factors or evidence to build a case or even prove anything happened, since no further inquiries were made after my car accident. Number two, even if my people did have something to do with it—and I’m not saying we did—what are you going to do? Go tell your department and chief and the DA that you located who was responsible for the blood in the Garden that night, and it was a bunch of people who shapeshift? Yeah,” he goaded, “that will go over well.”
The cop’s eyes narrowed. She was irritated at him making fun of her line of questioning, but she didn’t argue, and Carter knew he stood on pretty safe ground. No way could she go back to her department with a tale like that. She’d be laughed off the force, and probably locked away for a psych eval to boot.
“Number three,” he went on, “so what if I was out there that night? Again, not saying I was, but what if? What if I was there with my wife, looking for a little quiet time, a little romance? Anything that may or may not have occurred between us that evening remains between us.” He leaned a little closer. “Spousal privilege. You should know the law.”
“Spousal privilege doesn’t protect you if either of you committed a crime.”
“First, prove a crime was even committed. Prove anything happened. Next, prove we had anything to do with it. You can’t, and I know it.”
The cop stood firm, refusing to retreat. In spite of himself, Carter felt a twinge of admiration. She was tough, he’d give her that. She’d seen things tonight most humans never did, but she wasn’t running or screaming or even faltering. Instead, she was going toe to toe with him. Not that it would get her anywhere, but it showed her strength of mind. He guessed she was good at her job. She’d simply happened to land the wrong case when she’d stumbled into his world.
“This isn’t over, Ballis,” she remarked softly. He could hear the edge of warning in her voice. “Not by a long shot. I know something happened out there that night, and I’m sure you were involved. Tonight makes me even more certain. I know who the principal players are now. Your boss, Mr. Costas. Elia.”
“Good luck bringing charges against either of them.”
Even though heaven knew Elia/Nosizwe needed it for what she’d done to Ellie. Still, he’d rather the cop bow out and leave vengeance to him. Carter didn’t trust the human justice system. Too slow. Too soft. Too weak. Nosizwe didn’t need jail time, she needed killing.
“I know who the principal players are,” Detective Ewing repeated, as if he’d never interrupted her. “Now I just have to prove it.”
“Prove what? That they’re shapeshifters? It all comes back to that. There’s nothing you can do, Detective. You may as well let this go and leave it to us to handle. Even if Nosizwe—Elia—deserves to be arrested, we both know building a case against her is impossible. You won’t find any traces of her down in the Pit. You’re the sole human witness who can testify. You sure you want to go public with the story of what you saw?”
“Elia does deserve to be arrested, but I’m sure your hands are red too.”
Carter’s hands were red, but he’d never, ever attacked an innocent girl. Never harmed an innocent human. He wasn’t Nosizwe. Not by a long shot. However, he didn’t bother attesting all this to the cop. He just smiled.
“Come talk to me again when you can prove something.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
Whatever else she might have said was forestalled by the waiting room door opening. A trio of medical personnel walked in. Two of them in scrubs, as well as a woman in business attire pushing a desk on wheels.
“Mr. Ballis? We’d like to speak with you if that’s alright.”
All of his bravado with the police detective melted away as fear gripped his throat.
“Is it Ellie?”
He could barely force the words out. Were they coming to tell him she’d died on the operating table?
Chapter Four
“She’s still in surgery,” the lead person said, a middle-aged woman with graying hair pulled back in a bun and a white coat over her scrubs. “Hi, I’m Dr. Fielding. Dr. Winston is handling your wife’s surgery right now. Dr. Winston called me in as the closest gynecological surgeon.”
“Gynecological surgeon?”
Confusion wracked his brain. Why would Ellie need one of those? Surely she wasn’t pregnant…
Carter immediately dismissed the notion as ludicrous. Not Ellie, with her old-fashioned morals. According to her, she hadn’t even dated while they’d been fake-married. She wouldn’t be sleeping around with someone else when she was technically married to him. And he damned sure hadn’t knocked her up.
“Yes, sir. Right now, Dr. Winston is trying to get your wife stabilized, but he’s afraid she’s going to need additional surgeries. Possibly cosmetic. Perhaps also to do with her reproductive organs. It looks like her uterus was severely injured. That’s where I come in. I wanted to give you a heads up on what was going on. I won’t know anything for certain until I get back there, of course, but please be prepared for the fact that your wife may require extensive surgery.”
“How—how extensive are we talking?”
The doctor’s face creased with compassion.
“Dr. Winston thinks there’s a very real possibility that she may require a hysterectomy. If I get in there and can’t do anything to repair the damage, and I determine that has to happen, I’ll need your authorization to proceed.”
The words struck with the force of a hammer, causing Carter to sink into the nearest chair. Not so much at the shock. As mangled as her torso had been, they didn’t come as a complete surprise. No, it was the weight. The magnitude of the weight of those words. Asking him, as Ellie’s legal husband, to authorize a step like this.
This can’t be happening.
For a second, he placed his hand over his face to blot out the lights, the room, the doctor, reality.
This can’t be happening.
Marrying Ellie was supposed to have been a temporary fix, meant to protect them from legal trouble. It was never intended to last, and would be dissolved soon. It was never intended to give him any authority over her life. He had no right to be giving his say on something like this. It wasn’t up to him. Shouldn’t be up to him. The medical profession, the legal profession—they didn’t see it that way. As her husband, he was expected to permit this.
The doctor likely thought he was upset by the news of the impending hysterectomy. He was—it was unfair and it was awful, especially to someone of Ellie’s age, someone who had a heart for kids like she did. But he was even more upset that they were requiring him to put his stamp of approval on it.
“Mr. Ballis, I’m very sorry. But we really need you to sign these forms authorizing us to proceed if necessary. I apologize for bringing it up at a time like this, but I must get back there in case Dr. Winston needs me to scrub in.”
What if he refused? They’d probably do the procedure anyway, having no choice, if it was truly a life-saving measure. If he declined to give consent, how would that appear to the detective who stood right there, observing everything with a grim expression? She didn’t know, couldn’t know, their marriage was a farce, a façade. It would blow their protection out of the water.
“Mr. Ballis? I hate to pressure you, but we don’t have much time.”
The words came floating at him, ghostly. Carter found he was having a hard time grasping them. It was Tracy who brought him back to reality, clasping his shoulder and saying firmly, “You have to do this, Carter. It’s to save her life.”
Lowering his hand, he met her deep brown eyes. Full of compassion, concern. For Ellie, but also for him. Not that he deserved it. Who was he? He was the fool who’d gotten her into this mess. Ellie’s life was about to be irrevocably changed because of him and his temper.
Carter released a breath. He might be a fool, and this might be his fault, but he couldn’t let Ellie die to pay for his mistakes.
Heaving a deep breath, he reached for the iPad offered by the woman in business attire.
“Sign here and here,” she said. She handed him a stylus, pointing out the highlighted blanks on the screen with perfectly manicured red nails. Funny the things he noticed even during a crisis. “Initial here, please.”
He took the stylus and scrawled his signature, his initials, feeling lower than he’d ever felt in his life.
I shouldn’t be doing this. This isn’t my call to make. Who the hell do I think I am?
All of the self-recrimination in the world wasn’t going to change a thing, however.
Dr. Fielding said, “Thank you. I better get back there. We’ll update you as soon as possible.”
Words had deserted him. It was Tracy who replied the perfunctory, “Thank you, Doctor.” Dr. Fielding walked out, but the other two hospital workers remained.
“Mr. Ballis, my name’s Liz, and I’m the hospital registrar,” said the woman with the rolling desk and iPad. “Would now be a good time to get some insurance information from you?”
He glanced up sharply. “Are you kidding me? While my wife is in surgery and possibly dying?”
She retreated a half-step from the rancor in his tones.
“I know this isn’t an easy time, but we have to have your wife’s information…”
“Go to hell,” he snarled, turning away.
He heard a muffled word from the registrar, as if she’d started to say something, but once again Tracy intervened.
“If you give me the paperwork, I’ll make sure it gets properly filled out and returned to you,” she offered.
A brief hesitation. “And you are?”
“Close friend of the family, and a co-worker. Give me the forms. I’ll make sure they’re dealt with.”
He guessed the woman must have complied. The next thing Carter heard was the click of her heels as she walked away, pushing the mini desk. Good. One less person to talk to. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, unless it was cursing himself for endangering Ellie like this.
“Mr. Ballis?”
Carter picked up on the hesitation in the remaining hospital worker’s tones, but the guy asked anyway.
“What happened to your wife? Injuries like that—they don’t occur out of the blue. Not to mention your appearance and the circumstances in which your wife was brought in.”
He meant the fact that Carter was sitting there still spattered with blood, both Ellie’s and the people he’d killed earlier down in the Pit. On their way up to the waiting room, Tracy had mentioned that she’d texted a fellow driver to bring them both clean clothes. At the time, it was an irrelevant detail. Who cared about his clothes? The hospital, apparently. Ellie had obviously been the victim of a violent crime, and they wanted an explanation.
