Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(91)

A bitter lump clogged Sean’s throat. Mahoney was going to be okay. Meanwhile, Brooke was still stuck back there— The doors pushed open. A woman in blue surgical scrubs emerged and scanned the waiting room.

Sean rushed over, joined by Owen and Lin.

“How is she?” Owen asked.

“She’s in recovery.” The vise around Sean’s heart loosened. “The surgery went well.”

Lin slumped against Owen. “Oh, thank God.”

“She’s very lucky she missed a direct hit. It looks like several shotgun pellets deflected off the ground and caught her in the lower leg, one fracturing her fibula. We removed the fragments, set the bone, and did our best to repair the tissue damage. She’ll have some scarring.”

“How’s her head?” Sean asked.

The doctor looked him over, taking in his badge and sidearm. “She’s not ready to be interviewed, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“No, I mean . . . she took a blow. She said something about a shotgun stock when the paramedics were with her. Did you do X-rays?”

“We ran a number of tests, and it looks like she’s got a mild concussion.”

“Mild?” Owen asked.

“We’ll keep her under observation tonight, but if everything goes well, she should be ready to leave tomorrow.”

“Can we see her?”

“She’ll be awake soon, but very groggy. You can see her, but it’s best if you keep it short.” The doctor turned to Sean. “Are you Detective Byrne, by chance?”

“Yes.”

The doctor handed him an envelope. “Before we put her under, she made me promise I’d give you this.”

“What—”

“The fragments. She said you’d need them as evidence.”

Sean stared down at the envelope. The doctor answered more questions from Owen, but Sean wasn’t listening. He just wanted to see Brooke. He tucked the envelope in his pocket and looked at her brother.

“You first,” Owen said.

“You mind?”

“Go ahead. I need to call my parents.”

Sean pushed through the doors and didn’t stop at the nurses’ station. He’d been in this wing of the hospital not long ago, and he didn’t need directions. He strode down the hallway to the recovery rooms.

At the first door, he stopped cold. Brooke lay on a gurney under a light blue blanket. She had a bandage wrapped around her head, and dark purple bruises stood out against her pale skin. She looked asleep.

Sean’s chest tightened as he stepped into the room. He knelt beside her and slid his hand under hers. Her fingers felt warm, but she didn’t move.

“Brooke,” he whispered.

Nothing.

He glanced behind him and dragged a chair over. He sat down and reached over to touch the side of her face that wasn’t injured. “Brooke, honey, I’m here.”

She was still. Silent. But with every gentle rise and fall of her chest, Sean felt like he could breathe again.

He kissed her hand and held it. Then he settled in to wait.

? ? ?

Callie caught Sean in the bull pen. He’d been scarce since yesterday, and she was surprised to bump into him at work. She’d expected him to take at least a few days off.

“Got a minute?” she asked.

“Not really.”

“This won’t take long. But I need to show you something.”

Not waiting for an answer, she stepped into the nearest interview room and waited for him to close the door. She took a chair and he reluctantly followed suit.

“How is she?”

He sighed. “Doing better. She had a rough night.”

“I won’t keep you.” Callie pulled out her phone and opened up a photograph. “Take a look at this.”

Sean took the phone and stared down at the picture of lined paper filled with loopy handwriting. “What is this?” He glanced up.

“Samantha’s journal from when she was fourteen.”

“How—”

“Amy Doppler brought it in. She spent yesterday over at Samantha’s house, packing up her things. She came across this journal tucked between some textbooks.”

Sean skimmed the words and his expression darkened when he got to the part about going to see the judge. Fourteen-year-old Samantha Bonner had used the very same words as Hannah Lipsky to describe the encounter. Her description of the cop who escorted her to the office fit, too.

As part of his deal with prosecutors, Joe Hurd had identified Mahoney’s other accomplice as Burr County sheriff’s deputy Craig Petok. Like Hurd, the man had been on the judge’s payroll for years.

Sean glanced up. “Did you see this about the cop who picked her up, the guy with the shaved head?”

“I know. It has to be Craig Petok.”

“Holy shit. She even mentions the green banker’s lamp.” Sean shook his head. “Has Rachel seen this?”

“Not yet. But this is the ‘proof’ they were talking about, Sam and Jasmine. Some of the passages are marked with sticky notes. I’m thinking maybe she took pictures of the pages and sent them to the judge as part of their extortion plan.”

Sean handed back the phone, then leaned back in the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. The man looked beat, and Callie doubted he’d slept at all last night.