They ordered X-rays and left us alone.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I keep a journal, and I was writing about today.”
“Am I in it?” I asked.
She read me an entry.
‘He moved like a dancer, all in black, as he slid silently into the forest. His graceful gait belied the notion that this was a dance of joy, as was his norm. His smooth, explosive movements composed a deadly ballet born of his desire to save his protector and his damsel in distress. In the end, vengeance was his, and his adversary was killed by death.’
“That’s a little flowery and over the top, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Maybe. I just enjoy being able to write about this. Seeing the way you moved when you went to save Paul and Tracy made me envision this. I needed to get it down before I lost it.”
“I had no idea you could write like that.”
“Good,” Tami said.
“Good?”
“A girl needs her secrets. If you know everything, where’s the fun in discovering who one another really is?” Tami asked.
“I have a secret,” I said to remind her of the game we used to play.
“I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
“Ah, come on. You know you can’t live without knowing all my secrets,” I teased.
She looked sad for a moment and then looked me in the eye.
“I’m actually fine with not knowing. I’ve turned over a new leaf as far as you’re concerned,” Tami said and saw my confusion. “It’s not that I don’t care about you; it’s that we don’t need to know everything about each other. If you have something you want to tell me, I’d love to hear it. But I want you to understand that I have no intention of prying.”
I didn’t know what to say. This was something entirely new for Tami, at least as far as I knew. I remembered the meltdowns she’d had in the past when we kept something from her. If this was true, then there might be a ‘someday’ in our future. All the same, this was still too new for me to trust. It would take time for me to believe that Tami Glade didn’t have a pathological desire to know my every thought.
“Well, okay then,” I finally said.
◊◊◊
Chapter 19 – Show Me Your Chest Sunday April 9
Paul’s injury, though serious, hadn’t proved life-threatening in the end. They’d given him an IV on the way to the hospital, and he’d responded well, but he did need surgery to repair the damage. He’d been lucky the bullet hadn’t struck bone, but it had taken a chunk out of his butt.
My injury was much less severe than it should have been, according to Sheriff Cochran. Still, I did hurt, and black and blue covered my chest and abdomen. When the sheriff first saw that I’d only been bruised, he said I’d probably been shot with a .22 hollow-point round. When his deputies found the 9mm Glock in the Corvette wreckage, he wanted to know more about my Liquid Armor gear.
A Glock’s 9mm round was just step below the firepower of a .45. Sheriff Cochran was disappointed when I explained that my gear wasn’t available for sale yet. It was being designed as a ballistic shirt to be worn by military personnel in combat and was still only a prototype. They hadn’t gotten to the stage where they could mass-produce it.
The outer fabric was made to withstand an IED blast and not tear. The Liquid Armor had acted as advertised and transferred the force of the impact over the entirety of my chest and stomach.
If I’d worn the old style of ballistic shirt, Sheriff Cochran explained that the bullet should have broken bones at the very least. At the worst, it would have damaged my heart and lungs. I shared with him the story of how one of Devin’s assistants had wrapped his finger in the Liquid Armor, and they’d hit it with a hammer. He’d been fine, according to Devin. At the time, I doubted the veracity of his claim, but now, I was a believer.
I gave Devin’s office number to the sheriff. Sheriff Cochran said that wearing the bulky bulletproof vests wasn’t ideal, but they provided the necessary protection. A ballistic shirt like mine would meet their protective needs while giving them much more freedom of movement. He admitted there were times when he didn’t wear a bulletproof vest, but he would be a lot more likely to wear one of these shirts. It could be easily worn under the sheriff’s and his deputies’ uniforms.
We all wished Paul had been wearing similar gear. If he’d been wearing the pants, he would have a bruise, but his butt would be intact. Getting the equipment for my security team moved to the top of my priority list.
Tracy was upset that she hadn’t been warned of Bill’s release. The first time he’d gotten out, it surprised all of us. The state had a victim’s rights bill that required notification to the victim when the perpetrator was released from prison. This was meant to prevent a scenario exactly like this, where Bill just showed up and attacked her again.
The first time, he’d been sent away on drug charges. In that case, Tracy hadn’t been the ‘victim,’ so there’d been no notification. This time was different. When we took her home, she found they’d sent her a notification letter after all. But the state hadn’t known she’d moved to college, and her mom innocently included it in the stack of mail waiting for her daughter to pick up.
Sheriff Cochran surmised that Bill had been able to determine where Tracy would be because she’d posted her plans for the day on social media. She’d been excited to see me and made reference to her parents’ lake house.
This was another lesson I’d just learned the hard way. Tracy’s post was like people bragging about going on vacation or sharing vacation photos while there and then, when they got home, finding their house had been robbed.
But how could you tell when sharing something might be dangerous? Did you abstain from posting on social media?
Frankly, for a lot of people, that would probably be best. No one cares that you think you’re an ‘influencer.’ Or that your dog is the bomb (even though Duke did rock, and the world needed to hear about the funny stuff he got up to). In Duke’s case, since he was our mayor, I felt justified in sharing Duke-isms with his peeps. He probably needed his own social media account.
When a thought like that crossed my mind, I recognized Lily was right to take my posting access away at times. That just proved that everyone needed a Lily in their life to tell them ‘no’ to posting dumb stuff.
The problem was, it never occurred to Tracy that an innocent post would lead Bill to her doorstep. She’d been lucky when she recognized the distinctive sound of his Corvette as he pulled up. She’d been smart and escaped the house before he and his goons had caught her.
The two men who accompanied Bill turned out to be muscle for a crime family out of Chicago with outstanding warrants. Sheriff Cochran suspected that the same group had supplied Tiny and Bill with drugs when I’d been in middle school. He speculated that they’d recruited Bill when he was in juvie. Later, we found out that a lawyer who worked for the crime family had arranged for Bill’s early release, so the sheriff’s suspicions appeared to be confirmed.
During questioning, I mentioned that Paul and Cassidy wore bodycams, the drones all had video, and the car was set up with cameras. When Sheriff Cochran heard that, he almost kissed me. I gave him Fritz’s number to get copies of everything.
◊◊◊
On the way home, Fritz called me to check-in.
“I got a call from a Sheriff Cochran. He’s requesting footage from today’s events. I told him I needed to review the video first to ensure there’s nothing confidential on it. He threatened to get a warrant for the raw footage.”
“I’m glad you didn’t send it to him yet because I just remembered that Paul mentioned me being dosed with ecstasy while I was in Greece. That’s the sort of thing I don’t want to have leaked to the press. I’ve had enough drama with the paparazzi in the last few weeks to last me a lifetime. It gets old after a while,” I admitted.