Page 93 of The Last Straw

“How can you be sure?”

Wyrick nodded. “I saw their faces.”

He shook his head. “Ma’am, I don’t know how you do this, but you two are helping us take a real bad man out of circulation. If it had not been for your help, he could have done this forever. Those women can’t thank you, but we can. You put yourself in danger to help us, and don’t think it will go unnoticed.”

“No...please. Don’t tell anyone we helped you,” Charlie said. “It just makes it harder on her.”

“Oh...right. I understand,” Floyd said and was refolding the paper when his phone signaled a text. He read it and grinned. “Some boys from the Dallas County Sheriff’s office just picked up Sonny Burch. They said he offered no resistance.”

“He’s a coward,” Wyrick said. “He’s not afraid to hurt women, but he’s afraid of getting hurt. He’ll talk. And he’ll brag. And you’ll find the bodies. Thank you for letting me help.”

Charlie put a hand on her shoulder.

“You ready to go home?”

“Almost. I want to stop by the hospital to check on Rachel Dean. And then I want a Pepsi and a Hershey bar.”

Charlie laughed. “Okay, now you two know the real secret to her genius. Pop and candy. And if you don’t mind, we’ll see ourselves out.”

The detectives’ laughter followed them up the hall. But even after they were leaving the building, Wyrick imagined she could still hear it...but it wasn’t the men’s voices she was hearing now. It was the women. They were joyful to no longer be lost.

It took almost an hour to get to the hospital because of a wreck on the beltway. Traffic was moving at a crawl, and when they finally came to an exit, Charlie took it, traveling the city streets to get where they needed to go.

Wyrick was quiet, but Charlie thought nothing of it. She never talked without purpose, but as they were parking to go inside, she finally spoke up.

“Visiting hours in the ICU are on the hour, and only two at a time are allowed. If Millie is there, and Rachel still hasn’t regained consciousness, I’m going to ask if I can go in with her.”

Charlie parked, then looked at her. He knew what she was thinking. If Rachel wasn’t doing well, Wyrick was going to fix her, just like she’d fixed his hand.

“She’s going to be hooked up to a dozen machines. Don’t fry them.”

Wyrick shrugged. “She needs to have something to live for. I want her to know she’s safe. After that she’ll finish healing herself.”

“If you weren’t so damn scary, I’d tell you what an angel you are,” Charlie said.

“Oh, shut up,” Wyrick muttered. “I am not scary.”

“Why don’t you want me saying nice things about you?”

She looked at him, her dark eyes locked into his gaze.

“You don’t have to say anything nice to me,” she replied and then opened the door.

Charlie got out and followed her into the hospital. He didn’t know whether he’d just been put in his place for getting too personal, or if he’d crossed a line he hadn’t known was there. When they got in the elevator to go up to the ICU, he stood in one corner of the car, and she stood in the other.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Wyrick said. “I’m not scary, but I am sometimes a bitch. It’s a coping mechanism. Not a criticism of you. You are my anchor, Charlie. Don’t go rocking my boat.”

And then the door opened and she strode off, leaving him to follow, because she didn’t want to see his face. She didn’t want to see shock, or rejection, or even worse, that he might be laughing at her. She’d revealed something personal to him, and that was scary.

But Charlie got it. She didn’t know what to do with emotion. He’d scared her, so it was time to back off.

“There’s the waiting room,” he said, pointing to a room off to their left, and then they walked in.

There were several groups of people scattered around the room, some talking quietly, others reading their phones and a few reading books.

The people looked up when they entered, then looked again at Wyrick’s yellow-eyed dragon, breathing fire across her bare chest. They knew who she was, and she was scary all over again.

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