Lord Have Mercy (The Southern Gentleman #2)(57)

“Hey, Chief,” I called.

Chief Donaldson looked up, saw me standing there in the doorway of his office, and grinned as he stood up.

“Hey there, girl.” He walked around the corner of his desk and straight to me. “How are you doing?”

I smiled. “I’ve been…better.”

He crushed me to him, and I went willingly, loving the way he felt larger than life.

“Flint giving you problems?” he asked.

I laughed.

“You could say that,” I admitted, licking my suddenly dry lips. “He’s also why I’m here.”

The Chief frowned and pulled away, leaning against his desk as he stared at me fiddling with my fingers.

“What’s he doing?” he asked.

I looked up at the ceiling. “He’s dying a little inside each day.”

The Chief frowned. “I thought he was better…”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I shook my head. “He refuses to allow anyone to help him but me. And, saying that, even when he allows me to help him, he only allows the help to a certain extent. That means he won’t allow me to go to any extreme measures. No helping him get dressed. No helping him get in the shower. No pushing his wheelchair.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“And I think that since he’s good enough to complain—constantly—that he should be good enough to work.”

The Chief frowned.

“What?” I asked.

“I think you’re right,” he admitted. “Schultz despises the school. He’s always saying how it’s boring, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard him complain over the last couple of days.” The Chief grinned.

“He’s fully capable of sitting up, doing things, being an asshole.” I paused. “Which is why I think you should allow him to come back to the school. I think having something to do during the day will help him. He’s wasting away because he doesn’t think he’s useful.” I sighed. “He won’t even go to the gym.”

Chief Donaldson cursed. “Shit.”

Yeah, I agreed.

The gym was Flint’s baby.

For him not to want to go there? That was huge.

“I’ve been too tired from helping him cover some of the classes and opening the gym when Carmichael and Croft can’t do it that I haven’t realized how unhappy he was.” I paused. “I sort of looked at him this morning as I was leaving for work, saw how sad he was, and realized that I’ve been failing to pay attention.”

“Let me talk to Mrs. Sherpa…if that’s okay with her to have him there in his wheelchair, then it’s okay with me.” He laughed. “I need Schultz anyway. I had two officers quit last week to go work in the oilfield.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I think she’ll be happy to allow him back,” I admitted. “All the kids miss him like crazy.”

***

Flint

I expected the lawn guys to be at the door. Not the Chief of Police.

“Chief,” I held out my good hand to him. “What are you doing here?”

The Chief took my proffered hand and gestured toward the inside of the house. “You mind if I come in?”

I stepped back and swept my hand in a low arc while still keeping the crutch in my armpit.

“After you.”

The Chief skirted around me.

“You’re out of your wheelchair?” he asked.

I nodded. “For short treks like to the door and back to the couch? Yes. For anything more than that, no. I still need the wheelchair. At least until the casts come off in two more weeks.”

“That’s all you have left?” he asked.

I nodded. “Hopefully.”

The Chief agreed. “Perfect. In that case, we’re going to get you back to work.”

“You want me to what?”

“I want you to go back to work at the school,” he said. “We need Dooley’s services, and since you’re the only one who can handle him, that’s where you need to be.”

“I can’t walk,” I said. “How am I supposed to perform my job?”

“This.” He pointed over his shoulder.

I saw a…scooter.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I said when I laid eyes on it. “What the fuck is that?”

Sitting in my driveway was an electric scooter that was decorated with police emblems.

“The stickers were helpfully applied by a few of the other officers,” Chief said. “I hope you can see the humor in it.”

I could.

Kind of.

I shook my head and looked at the monstrosity.

“I have no way to transport that,” I pointed out.

“That’s where I come in!” I heard called to my right.

That was when I saw Camryn standing there, next to a goddamn minivan.

“Whose is that?” I asked warily.

“Yours.” She paused. “Well, actually it belongs to the police department. Did you know that they use it to transport multiple inmates to and from the prison?”

I did.

“Why are you standing next to it?” I asked.

“We’re going to use it until you’re able to fit into a real vehicle,” she said. “They called me to make sure that I could drive it. I can. You’re in luck.”