Blind Side
Page 52
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Savich and Sherlock arrived ten minutes later. Both of them hugged Sam, met Dr. Sheila Raines, then left them alone again.
Sherlock said, “You guys tell Savich what happened while I take care of the bloody feet in this room. You got a first-aid kit, Katie?”
Katie looked at her, face completely blank. She repeated, “First-aid kit?”
“Yes, so I can clean up your feet. Both you and Miles.”
Katie blinked, reminded of the cuts on her feet, and shook her head at herself. “Yes, in the kitchen, in the cabinet above the fridge.”
A few minutes later, Sherlock looked up to see Katie walking gingerly into the kitchen.
“Where’s Keely?”
“I gave her to Miles. I think it helps him to hold her. It’s bad, Sherlock, Sam isn’t speaking at all. But I trust Sheila, she’s got a gift, particularly with kids. She’s able to clue right into what they’re feeling—their fears and where they’re lurking, and how to lessen them. She’s really good. Plus I’ve known her all my life. She’s loaded with common sense—” Katie’s voice caught and tears filled her eyes.
Sherlock looked at her a moment, put down the first-aid kit she’d just pulled down from a top shelf, and held out her arms. “Come here, Katie.”
Katie walked into her arms. It was silly, really, particularly since she was bigger than Sherlock, but it felt good to be held, to know that Sherlock understood what she was feeling, it made a difference. She whispered against Sherlock’s hair, “I’ve killed two men—two—since last night. I’ve been sheriff of Jessborough for three years now and I’ve never shot anyone before. Our idea of local crime here is shoplifting and maybe twenty-five DUIs a year. Mainly we herd Mr. James’s cows back into his pasture, pull Mr. Murray out from under the tractor that fell on him, tug Mrs. McCulver’s rat terrier off the postman, and keep traffic smooth on the Fourth of July. I’ve never seen a murder or a kidnapping, at least not here. This is a peaceful town. Now this.”
“I know,” Sherlock said, stroking her hair. “I know it’s been a shock, not only to you but to all of us. But you did exactly what you had to do to end it. You saved Sam, I mean you really saved him. Just think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been with Sam. Do you think now that you had a choice? In either case?”
Katie shook her head against Sherlock’s face.
“Good. Now, I expect Sam to always be there for you. He owes you his life. He can push your wheelchair or help you dodder around when you’re old and drooly.”
Katie laughed, despite herself. “The image of that,” she said, straightening, “makes me want to both laugh and cry.”
Sherlock cupped Katie’s face between her hands. “The realization that you, no one else, just you, put an end to someone’s life—you have to just look at Sam to know you did the right thing when it counted.”
“Have you ever killed anyone, Sherlock?”
“No, I haven’t, but I wanted to once, real bad. Someday I’ll tell you about Marlin Jones. Dillon has, and he told me it dug right into his gut. There was one time he wasn’t sorry at all, when he shot a real madman, Tommy Tuttle. But you see, he got over it because he realized that a law officer has to be able, intellectually and emotionally, to get the job done.” She paused a moment, and looked disappointed. “I’m really sorry we weren’t here to help you take care of Clancy.”
Katie smiled. “Yeah, I wish you’d been here, too. He managed to break the locks on the back door, came right up the stairs and I didn’t hear him. None of us believed it could happen. Do you know that Clancy actually got into the bedroom where Miles and Sam were sleeping? A fat guy who’s quiet as a mouse—that’s scary. The deputies didn’t see or hear him either, even when he snuck up on them. He had both Miles and Sam out of the house before I heard them.” Katie wiped her hand over her eyes, blew out a breath. “Thanks, Sherlock. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
“I’ve known you for only a very short time, Katie, but I am very certain of one thing: You’re a good person and an excellent sheriff. Now, it’s after midnight, your feet are a mess. Come on, let me fix you up. Dillon needs rest, but that won’t happen until he’s satisfied that everything’s under control.”
Katie, trying for a stab at humor, said, “Maybe I can be an excellent patient, too?”
“We’ll see about that,” Sherlock said. She smiled up at Katie, who was five foot nine if she was an inch, took her hand, and walked her back to the living room.
Sherlock said, “You guys tell Savich what happened while I take care of the bloody feet in this room. You got a first-aid kit, Katie?”
Katie looked at her, face completely blank. She repeated, “First-aid kit?”
“Yes, so I can clean up your feet. Both you and Miles.”
Katie blinked, reminded of the cuts on her feet, and shook her head at herself. “Yes, in the kitchen, in the cabinet above the fridge.”
A few minutes later, Sherlock looked up to see Katie walking gingerly into the kitchen.
“Where’s Keely?”
“I gave her to Miles. I think it helps him to hold her. It’s bad, Sherlock, Sam isn’t speaking at all. But I trust Sheila, she’s got a gift, particularly with kids. She’s able to clue right into what they’re feeling—their fears and where they’re lurking, and how to lessen them. She’s really good. Plus I’ve known her all my life. She’s loaded with common sense—” Katie’s voice caught and tears filled her eyes.
Sherlock looked at her a moment, put down the first-aid kit she’d just pulled down from a top shelf, and held out her arms. “Come here, Katie.”
Katie walked into her arms. It was silly, really, particularly since she was bigger than Sherlock, but it felt good to be held, to know that Sherlock understood what she was feeling, it made a difference. She whispered against Sherlock’s hair, “I’ve killed two men—two—since last night. I’ve been sheriff of Jessborough for three years now and I’ve never shot anyone before. Our idea of local crime here is shoplifting and maybe twenty-five DUIs a year. Mainly we herd Mr. James’s cows back into his pasture, pull Mr. Murray out from under the tractor that fell on him, tug Mrs. McCulver’s rat terrier off the postman, and keep traffic smooth on the Fourth of July. I’ve never seen a murder or a kidnapping, at least not here. This is a peaceful town. Now this.”
“I know,” Sherlock said, stroking her hair. “I know it’s been a shock, not only to you but to all of us. But you did exactly what you had to do to end it. You saved Sam, I mean you really saved him. Just think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been with Sam. Do you think now that you had a choice? In either case?”
Katie shook her head against Sherlock’s face.
“Good. Now, I expect Sam to always be there for you. He owes you his life. He can push your wheelchair or help you dodder around when you’re old and drooly.”
Katie laughed, despite herself. “The image of that,” she said, straightening, “makes me want to both laugh and cry.”
Sherlock cupped Katie’s face between her hands. “The realization that you, no one else, just you, put an end to someone’s life—you have to just look at Sam to know you did the right thing when it counted.”
“Have you ever killed anyone, Sherlock?”
“No, I haven’t, but I wanted to once, real bad. Someday I’ll tell you about Marlin Jones. Dillon has, and he told me it dug right into his gut. There was one time he wasn’t sorry at all, when he shot a real madman, Tommy Tuttle. But you see, he got over it because he realized that a law officer has to be able, intellectually and emotionally, to get the job done.” She paused a moment, and looked disappointed. “I’m really sorry we weren’t here to help you take care of Clancy.”
Katie smiled. “Yeah, I wish you’d been here, too. He managed to break the locks on the back door, came right up the stairs and I didn’t hear him. None of us believed it could happen. Do you know that Clancy actually got into the bedroom where Miles and Sam were sleeping? A fat guy who’s quiet as a mouse—that’s scary. The deputies didn’t see or hear him either, even when he snuck up on them. He had both Miles and Sam out of the house before I heard them.” Katie wiped her hand over her eyes, blew out a breath. “Thanks, Sherlock. I’ll be okay, I promise.”
“I’ve known you for only a very short time, Katie, but I am very certain of one thing: You’re a good person and an excellent sheriff. Now, it’s after midnight, your feet are a mess. Come on, let me fix you up. Dillon needs rest, but that won’t happen until he’s satisfied that everything’s under control.”
Katie, trying for a stab at humor, said, “Maybe I can be an excellent patient, too?”
“We’ll see about that,” Sherlock said. She smiled up at Katie, who was five foot nine if she was an inch, took her hand, and walked her back to the living room.
