Kele Moon - Crossing the line

When she did finally manage to unlock it, the door opened by magic, and she blinked up, seeing Vaughn looming over her, dark and menacing, like one of those villains from the stories she still wrote when she had the time.

She wanted to run away, but she puked on his feet instead.

“Fuck, Tabitha.” He kicked her, his foot connecting with her jaw, and she fell backward, but she didn’t feel it. “I’m gonna make you sorry for that.”

She blinked up at the ceiling that was still swirling in the darkness, making her feel like she was falling into an endless black hole. The door clicked shut. She heard the lock flip, and then someone was pulling her up, forcing her onto the bed.

Even as sick as she was, she still managed to scream when Vaughn’s face swam into view. She tried to push him off her, but her arms weren’t working the way she wanted them too.

She felt Vaughn’s heavy weight over her, and another scream burst out of her, this one pure and terrified. She said one word, the only word she could think of that would stop this from happening.

“Wyatt!”

“Wyatt.”

He stared at the police radio, stunned to hear his name come across it. Usually they used call signs. Already having a terrible night, he picked up the mic with a sense of dread and said, “Yeah.”

“You have to come back to the station,” Jules said slowly. “Right now.”

“What’s going on?”

“Just come back.” The quiver of fear was noticeable in his sister’s voice.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Wyatt’s breathing fell shallow in fear. “Is it Dad?”

“What the hell?” His father’s voice broke in. “This is a police radio, not a telephone.”

“Both of you come back.”

“Okay, fifty-six me at the station,” his father said before Wyatt could find the ability. “Boy, you gonna answer her?”

“I’m ten fifty-one,” Wyatt said numbly and then dropped the mic on his lap.

If his father was okay, there wasn’t anything that could really end him, unless it was Clay. He’d been training late. What if—

Wyatt tore out of the parking lot he’d been sitting in to do paperwork. He turned on his lights and siren and pulled into the station five minutes later behind his father, whose siren was blaring too. He leaped out his car and left the door open as he ran to the front doors.

“Do you know what it is?” Wyatt barked at his father.

“Not a clue.” His father opened the doors and burst into the sheriff’s office like a bull. “What the hell is going on?”

Jules was sitting at dispatch, shaking, with tears rolling down her face.

The fear forced all the air out of Wyatt’s lungs when he met his sister’s horrified gaze. She was looking at Wyatt, not his father, and he didn’t know why he knew it, but he did.

“Oh God!” he shouted. “It’s Tabitha!”

“It was a drug overdose. I put in the call for the ambulance on the phone. I didn’t want you to hear it over the radio,” Jules said in a wild, sobbing rush of panic. “She was unconscious, and her mama called it in. I’m sorry, Wy Wy. I got them out there as fast as I could.”

“Is she dead?” Wyatt choked on the words.

Jules shook her head. “No, but it wasn’t a good call.”

“Oh shit.” He looked to his father desperately, feeling young and afraid, hoping he somehow had a way to fix it when Wyatt couldn’t. “What’d I do?”

“We get you to the hospital.” His father grabbed his arm, jerking Wyatt so hard he stumbled. “Jules, call in someone to cover us and then work the board.”

“What?” Jules jumped up. “I’m going with you. I have to go with him!”

“Not this time.” His father pointed to the board. “You sit there and do your job. He’ll never get there if you’re driving him. With that twin vibe y’all got going on, you’ll wreck for sure.”

“I have to go!”

“Nope.” His father was already opening the door and dragging Wyatt with him because his legs had stopped working. “Boy, you got fifteen minutes to pull your shit together before we get there.”

“It takes half an hour to get to Mercy!”

“Not when I’m driving.” His father jumped into his police jeep. He flipped on his sirens and lights and then using his loudest, most intimidating sheriff’s voice growled, “Get in, Wyatt! Now!”

Wyatt got in and slammed the door.

Then he crumpled. He leaned his forehead against his knees and did something he hadn’t done since the day his grandfather died. He started crying. “Fuck,” he choked out between sobs. “Oh God, Dad. It’s my fault.”

“It ain’t your fault.”

“No, it is. We had a fight. I left her there. I just left her in the road. I ain’t never done something like that to her before. I drove her to it. I know I did.”

“Jesus Christ, Wyatt.”

“Oh God, if she dies, I’ll die with her. I said the worst things to her. That can’t be the last thing she heard from me.”

“I’ll get you there. It won’t be the last thing she heard from you. I promise.”

He nodded, hoping to God this wasn’t going be the first promise his father broke to him. “Okay.”

* * *

“Sweetheart, I need you try and stay with us. Look at me.”

Tabitha blinked at the bright lights, trying to do what the doctor was telling her. “I’m sick.”

“I know. We’re helping you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, because help sounded like something she was in desperate need of.

She closed her eyes again.

“Oh no.” A hand grabbed her face. “We’re staying awake.”

Tabitha blinked again. “Okay.”

“Do you know who did this to you?”

“Did what?”

“Do you remember anything?”

Tabitha fought to focus, and when she did, flashes of Vaughn over her flitted through her fogged mind. She lashed out, trying to push him away.

“Honey, no, you’re in the hospital. Calm down.” The voice was anxious but kind.

Nothing like Vaughn.

Tabitha stopped fighting. She didn’t know how long she drifted on the wake of semiconsciousness before she heard the same voice say, “I need a rape kit, Carla. Someone needs to put a call into the police. This isn’t just an overdose. That’s crap. This girl was drugged.”

“No,” Tabitha rasped past the burn in her throat, because she understood that if nothing else. “You can’t call the police.”

“Honey, we have to call the police. You don’t know how badly hurt you are.”

“No.” Tabitha blinked and fought for clarity, but it was as if her mind was stuffed with cotton, and her tongue felt leaden. “Wyatt’s the police.”

“What?” The face of a middle-aged woman with soft eyes swam into view before she turned back to whoever she was talking to. “Where’s the rape kit? Tell Daniel to get the call in to Garnet. That’s where she came in from, right?”

“No!” She tried to sit up.

“Calm down. I want you to take long, easy breaths. We’re here for you.”

“Wyatt’s the police,” she repeated and then reached out for the lady’s hand. There were all sorts of tubes in the way, and she couldn’t get it. “You can’t tell him.”

“Who’s Wyatt? Is he the one who did this to you?”

Tabitha shook her head, but it made her stomach lurch, and she started gagging instead. They turned her when she started throwing up. It was horrible and tasted like a dirty fire.

“We had to pump your stomach while you were out. You’re gonna be throwing up for a while, I’m afraid.”

“I’m dying,” Tabitha whispered when she looked down and saw she was throwing up black.

“No, you’re not dying. We’re here to make sure of that.”

It wasn’t such a horrible concept, dying. She had the thought of just giving in and embracing it rather than fighting for a life that had never been that kind to her, but there had been a few highlights. Wyatt. She had to make sure they didn’t tell him.

“Dr. Swartz, the police are here.”

“Already?”

“He said he was her husband. It’s Sheriff Conner’s son. Wyatt.”

There was a stunned silence in the room before the woman who had been helping Tabitha whispered, “Oh shit.”

“Wyatt’s the police,” Tabitha said frantically, hoping to convey all the horrors telling him would create. “He’s the police. Wyatt is.”

She wanted to say more, but she started throwing up instead.

“Okay, don’t worry about it. I got you.” The woman held her head, her gloved hands gentle on Tabitha’s head. “You tell him to sit in the waiting room, and when I get her stabilized, I’ll speak with them.”

“They weren’t so keen on waiting. He’s got the sheriff with him.”

“Well, this ain’t a sheriff’s office. It’s my emergency room, and I say they got to wait.”

“You can’t tell him,” Tabitha whispered when she stopped throwing up. “You can’t tell Wyatt.”

“Let’s focus on you. Don’t worry about it right now.”

“No.” Tabitha started crying when she thought of what Wyatt would do if he found out. “I love him.”

The doctor stroked Tabitha’s hair. “I know.”

“He’ll ruin his life.”

“Okay.”

“Save him for me,” Tabitha whispered with a desperate sob. “Please save him for me. I know you don’t know me, but please save him for me.”

“Oh honey, you’re breaking my heart.”

“He says dumb things, but he doesn’t mean them.” Tabitha whispered the last part for herself and then somehow managed to grab the woman’s hand. She squeezed it tightly and fought to keep her in focus for Wyatt’s sake. She willed the wires in her brain to start working and made a deliberate attempt to speak slowly and clearly. “If you tell him, he will do something that will put him in prison. You cannot tell him.”

“Isn’t he the fighter?” someone else in the room asked. “One of those cage fighters?”

“Yes.” Tabitha was still trying to keep her words even, but her stomach was lurching, and all she managed to get out was, “Fighter.”

“We got it. We know what you’re saying. I’ll take care of it.” She stroked her face again. “I got your back, darlin’.”

Somehow, Tabitha knew she wasn’t lying, and the next time she threw up, it wasn’t quite so violent. She just let the poison come up, willing it to take all the horrible, hazy memories with it.

“Is her family out there?”

“They left.”

“They left?” The woman’s voice was completely incredulous.

“When they saw the sheriff pull up, they just got up and walked out.”

There was another stunned silence in the room before the doctor sighed. “Yeah, I bet they did.”

“Save Wyatt,” Tabitha whispered one more time before she felt her eyes getting heavy again. “Okay?”

“Okay,” the doctor whispered bitterly. “We couldn’t save you, but we’ll save Wyatt tonight. That’s fair.”

* * *

“How hard is it to get a status update?”

“Sheriff—”

“No,” Wyatt’s father barked. “He’s her husband. That means he’s got legal rights to know what the hell is going on with his wife. You go find a doctor who knows what’s going on, and then drag their ass out here to give us a real status. We’ve been waiting for almost two hours. I’m done.”

“They know you’re waiting.”

“Listen to me, darlin’.” His father leaned in closer to the lady behind the desk, his voice shaking in anger. “I promised my son I would get him to see his wife. Now either you’re gonna make it happen, or I’m gonna go back there and do it for you. Got it?”

She stood up from behind the desk. “Fine, I’ll go check on her.”

“Thank you.” He leaned back against the desk and folded his arms over his chest as he looked to Wyatt. “You okay?”

Wyatt shook his head silently. He had moved past tears and was into raw shock and horror. He’d thrown up twice since getting to the hospital, and his stomach was still churning. Until this moment, he wouldn’t have been able to comprehend something destroying him this intensely.

As long as Tabitha lived through this, Wyatt told himself, he could survive everything.

Please, God, let her live.

He dropped his head back into hands and stayed there, wishing he had Jules with him. Going through this without his twin made it worse, as if that was possible.

“Sheriff Conner.”

Wyatt jerked his head up, looking to the doctor who walked around the corner. She had short dark hair and a wan smile for them when Wyatt jumped to his feet.