The windows shattered, spraying glass on the floor, and chaos erupted. My body froze in shock as I clung to Zekes' shirt. He instinctively threw us to the floor and covered me with his body. Someone was screaming; the sound frightened me to the core. At the time, I didn't know where it was coming from, but it was me; the fear was gut-wrenching. After the last shot rang out, we heard tires squealing outside; whoever it was wanted to make a fast getaway.
Zeke groaned as he tried to get up, but fell back on me. Freaking out, I pushed his chest to roll him over onto his back. My hands ran over his chest and arms to see if there was any damage, but they seemed fine, when my gaze landed on his sweats, a pool of blood was growing on his left thigh. My eyes widened in shock. He had been hit by one of the bullets while protecting me.
"Z, are you ok?" I asked frantically. "Oh my god, you were shot!"
"Yeah, I was," he says breathlessly. The pain in his eyes was evident in his contorted features. Quickly scrambling to get off the floor, I retrieved my cell phone from the kitchen. I had forgotten it after dinner, all I could think of was the diary. While dialing emergency services, I ran as fast as possible back to the living room. The woman on the phone told me to get a rag and apply pressure to his wound. Kneeling beside him, grabbing the blanket from my nap early, I pressed it down on his wound. He groaned loudly, and it broke my heart to see him in so much pain, and the guilt started to set in. This wouldn't have happened if it weren't for me. It made me feel helpless. He was always protecting me, but I was unable to do the same for him.
The loud wail of the ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance as they approached. Finally, the slamming of doors, they were here; it felt like an eternity since the call was made. My tears fell on Zeke as we waited for their approach. He raised his hand, wiping my cheek.
"Don't cry, Rocky, I'll be okay," he gasps in pain as he reassures me. He was the one who needed to be comforted, not the other way around. Right now, it's hard to believe things would be okay, and the tears just kept streaming down my face. When the ambulance arrived, the sound of the stretcher wheeling to the front door was loud as it rolled over the gravel driveway. The paramedics knocked and identified themselves. Zeke took over, holding pressure on his wound as I rushed to let them in, leading them straight to the living room, where he still lay on the floor.
They cut his pants to get a better look at the wound. Once they assessed him, a paramedic walked over to me to let me know that a major artery wasn't hit, luckily, and he should be okay. He would still need to be taken to the hospital for a doctor to clean it out and look at the damage. Nodding my head, they loaded him onto the gurney and took him away.
Before they left, I promised to deal with the police and come to the hospital as soon as possible, but Zeke was in too much pain to acknowledge what I said. The police officers stepped in as soon as the paramedics were off the scene. To my utter disappointment, in walked Sheriff Dawson, with his cocky smile, along with several deputies.
"Well, Miss Sleighton, long time no see," he says with that irritating smirk he has.
"You just saw me last night with your unwanted visit, Sheriff. Coincidental, don't you think?" was my retort. The annoyance dripped from my words; my tone was usually more respectful to law enforcement, but Dawson's presence made me feel uncomfortable and agitated.
"I'm not sure what you're suggesting, little girl, but I would watch my tone," and he lost his smirk. His face hardened, "Oh, and by the way, the living room is off limits until our investigation is finished."
Rolling my eyes, I turn and walk away, heading for my bedroom. I know I was pushing my luck with him, but I didn't have the energy to care. Closing my bedroom door behind me, I rest my head against the door and release a deep breath. After a moment, I start to pack a bag for myself and one for Zeke. Making sure to pack enough clothes for a few days, chargers, laptops, and phones, so we have everything they need. Before leaving, I slipped into the office to gather all the information that had been found and collected; no way it's going to be left behind for the sheriff to find. After shoving it all into my bag, I made my way into the hallway, locking the office door behind me, hoping not to see the Sheriff again.
Amber's diary caught my attention in the living room as I was leaving. The deputies hadn't noticed it yet because it was partially under the couch. Thankfully, they were all outside, roping off the driveway. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I hurriedly ran in and grabbed it, throwing it in my bag. It had all the information we needed about Andy, and I wasn't taking the chance that it would be mishandled. When it was finally time to head out the door to leave, Sheriff Dawson noticed me carrying two bags and looked surprised.
"Miss Sleighton, where are you headed? We still need a statement from you," he said while I was passing by him. His words cause me to stop and look him in the eyes. Even though he scared me and made me nervous, there's no way I would let him see that.
"I'm checking into a hotel near Zeke. I don't want to be here without him," was my response, which is true, but my thoughts wander to what would happen if I were here alone. It would make me a sitting duck. No thank you. The sheriff seemed pleased with what I said, probably because it will be easier for him to snoop if I'm not here, but jokes on him. The incriminating evidence will not be here.
"Okay, that's fine," he says, "just stop by the station and give us your statement tomorrow." His voice is more pleasant, thinking he has the upper hand.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," I replied, wanting to just get out of there and get to Zeke. If he was offended by my tone, he never showed it.
Driving to the hospital, I called Zeke's mom and dad. They were upset, not at me but at the situation, and said they would meet me at the hospital. They thanked me for calling because no one had contacted them yet, and I hated to be the one to deliver the news, but they needed to know. He was their only child.
As soon as the door opened to the emergency room, I made my way to the front desk.
"Hi, I'm looking for Zeke Anderson; he was brought by ambulance not too long ago." The woman typed his name into the computer and made eye contact with me.
"Sorry, we can only give information to his family. Who are you to him?" she asked.
"I'm his wife," I blurted out of frustration.
"Oh, in that case, honey, go through the doors, and he's in bed four."
"Thank you so much," I smile at her and hurry away. It took me a few seconds to find him, but when I finally did, he was sitting up on the bed with his thigh wrapped, watching TV. Relief and happiness washed through my body at his smile when he saw me enter the room. Happy tears started to flow down my cheeks.
"Zeke!" I sobbed, and he opened his arms, welcoming me into his embrace. Leaning down, I hugged him, careful not to cause him more pain, and was so happy it was not serious. His hands moved in gentle circles on my back, soothing me as I struggled to contain all the emotions that were taking over. Everything from relief to guilt assaulted me. The guilt was for letting him comfort me when it was my fault he had been shot; he was protecting me. Carefully pushing away from him, hoping not to hurt him, I sat down on the chair beside his bed and held his hand.
"Have they come in to look at your leg yet?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. The dressing around his leg was from the ambulance.
"No!" He groans as he shifts onto the bed to see me better.
"Zeke, I'm so sorry you got hurt because of me."
"It wasn't because of you; it's not your fault," he says, squeezing my hand tightly.
A soft knock on the door interrupts our conversation as a middle-aged man in a long white coat strides into the room. He introduces himself as the attending doctor. He did a quick assessment of his wound and informed us he needs stitches to help the healing process, and they want to keep him overnight for observation because he lost so much blood. Zeke would be released in a day or two, as long as infection doesn't set in.
"Rocky," he says, reaching for my hand again, " please don't go home until I'm able to be there with you. Promise me."
" I won't, Z, I promise at least for tonight."
"Where are you going to stay tonight then?"
"There is a hotel down the road. It's close to you." There was no way returning to the house tonight was an option. I didn't feel safe after everything, and Sheriff Dawson was lurking around.
As promised, I didn't go home that night and went straight to the hotel. After checking in, finding my room was easy, but with each step, my body grew more tired, and I couldn't wait to enter. Once inside, exhaustion took over. It felt cozy with beige walls and flower curtains. It was larger than I thought. The bathroom was to the left as you walked in, and the bed was straight ahead with a TV sitting on a dresser. There was also a small kitchenette inside.
Although the room was cozy, I felt alone without Zeke beside me. His presence has become a constant comfort, and when he wasn't around, the loss was profound. Getting my clothes and heading to the bathroom was about all the strength I had. Once the bath was run, I slid into the hot water, letting it ease the tension and pain in my muscles. While soaking, my head lies on the back of the tub, my emotions come loose, and tears fell freely down my cheeks as I sobbed. We had come so close to losing our lives today. Zeke was injured, our house was assaulted, but we made it out with our lives. Once the water turned cold, I dried off and got dressed, then dragged myself to bed. Sleep engulfed me as soon as my head touched the pillow.
It was already ten in the morning when my eyes opened. At first, my brain was disoriented trying to figure out where I was, then it all came back to me making me sit straight up in bed.
"Oh, crap! I need to call Z and see how he is or if they're discharging him," is running through my head. I grabbed my phone to call him.
"Hey, beautiful," he answered.
"You ok, Z?"
"Yeah, except for some pain, I'm good. Stop worrying." It was a relief to hear him sound like his usual self. The fear of losing him was still fresh in my mind, and I didn't know what I would do if that ever happened because of me digging into the Catalano family.
"Are you sure you still want to stay with me? I mean, you have been through so much already because of me."
"Rocky baby, listen to me, I am not going anywhere. We will face this together. His words reassured me and brought a smile to my face. Conversation came easily for us as it always did, and we talked for a few more minutes. Zeke was going to call me once they said he could leave. He didn't want me sitting around the hospital worrying.
Instead, this was an opportunity to continue investigating Amber's boyfriend, a crucial piece in determining my paternity. Using my laptop, I found two Andrew Dawsons in my state. The reason we didn't find anything in Sugar Creek is that he left town years ago. Only one fit the age of Andy. He was forty-three and lived two towns over; the other one was in his seventies in a nursing home, which ruled him out right away. Quickly, I wrote down Andrew's information and entered it in my map app on my phone. It would take roughly an hour to get there. I could make it there and back before Zeke was released. Deciding on this plan, I quickly got dressed and grabbed my things, then headed out. Once in my car, I sat for a moment deciding if this was a crazy idea or not. After all, I had only found an address and nothing else about him. It could be the wrong person; maybe Andrew Dawson was a popular name. These thoughts were an attempt to talk myself out of going through with this crazy plan, but I knew I had to go. Before my mind changed, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the address.