Page 12 of Rescuing Baylee

“I’m telling you to take some time off. You need it. You’re not still in the army, and I’m sure you never expected to have to do anything like this again. I want you to go home, cuddle your cat, and relax. Get your head on straight.”

“I’m actually better than you think I am,” she said softly.

Mendez reached out and gripped her arm. “Good. But I still want you to take some time off. You never take vacation, and you’re here helping way more than the others. I know we have a shortage, but you need to take some time for you, so you don’t burn out.”

As soon as she spoke the words, Baylee could feel the weight of the night upon her. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll take time off, but if you get into a pinch, I’ll be around.”

Dr. Mendez shook her head. “No. We will not call you. You’re going to take this time off. Maybe you can hang out with the cop that’s been eyeing you all night.”

For a moment, her heart stuttered, but she snorted the doctor’s words away. “He’s just watching me to make sure I’m not cracked and about to go postal on anyone else.”

“Well, regardless, I want you to take some time for yourself. And Baylee,” Dr. Mendez looked up into her face. Her voice had gone raspy, and her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. I don’t know what my kids would have done…”

Knowing it was not standard protocol, she reached out and hugged Dr. Mendez. The woman clung to her for a long minute before stepping back. “Thank you,” she said again, and turned away.

With a last glance at the wrecked emergency department, Baylee headed upstairs to get her things, though it felt so weird to be leaving the scene of the emergency. Mendez was right, though. She needed to get out of here.

The girls upstairs would be worried about her, but she didn’t really want to talk to any of them right then. So, she slid into the locker room, grabbed her stuff, and left down the back stairwell. Her car was in the back of the quiet lot. Night had come and gone, and dawn was lightening the sky.

As she pulled up to her apartment building, Baylee looked for the black Dodge Charger the neighbor usually drove, but it wasn’t there. He would probably be buried in paperwork for the next week. Why hadn’t she realized that was an unmarked cop car?

Siggy seemed to sense that something was different tonight, because as soon as she walked in the door, he curled around her legs, meowing pitifully. Baylee dropped her crap and sank down onto the floor with him, stroking his cream-colored fur, and he looked up at her with his crossed blue eyes, meowing softly. That was when the tears came.

She’d grown a lot in the past eleven years, and she hated weakness, but sometimes a person just needed a good cry. Siggy curled in her arms as she bowed over him, lost in sobs. When she’d come back from Afghanistan, she’d taken leave, and it seemed like she’d cried every day. She’d been in a funk for a long time, trying to come to terms with what had happened to her. Olivia had finally talked her into going to a counselor, and it didn’t take him long to diagnose her with PTSD.

She was a survivor, though. Laying down and wallowing in her lost life wasn’t her way. She’d learned to cope with what had happened to her over there, and she would do it again. The only regret she had was being responsible for taking Olivia’s leg.

Setting the cat down, she headed to the kitchen. She needed to do something with her hands. The first thing she needed to do was take a shower. Once she remembered she had the gunman’s blood on her, she had an immediate need to get rid of it.

As she passed through the hallway, she bounced on one foot, ripping her clothes off. She stuffed them in the washer and threw detergent in. Then she headed to the bathroom. The water was barely warm as she stepped in, but that didn’t stop her. She scrubbed until her skin was raw and lathered her long hair twice.

When she stepped out of the shower, she felt better in more ways than one. Her counselor would probably have a lot to say, but whatever. She wasn’t a serial killer, or anything. Quite the opposite, actually. Usually, she loved people. Little people, especially.

Baylee headed into the kitchen. When she got home, she’d wanted to cook something, but the urge had passed. The heat from the shower had made her somnolent, and tiredness weighed her down. The anxiety was still there, though. Reaching into her bedside table, she retrieved her personal weapon, a Glock 42. It was just a little .380, but it made her feel secure. She set it very carefully on top of the table, in the same place she did every night.

Then she crashed, exhausted.

The dreams left her alone for most of the day and she slept hard, though it wasn’t her normal sleeping schedule. Then, toward afternoon, flashes of gunfire and spraying blood semi-roused her. Raised voices and strobes of emergency lights. Faces of people she’d loved and served with and lost.

Baylee bolted awake to the sound of someone banging on her door, her heart racing. for a second it had sounded like gunfire again. Blinking blearily, she wondered what time it was. She glanced at the window, but she’d drawn the light-blocking curtains before she’d gone to bed. Her phone was probably out in the kitchen, because she didn’t remember bringing it in here.

There was another round of pounding on her door. “What the hell,” she grumbled, rolling out of bed. She grabbed her gun.

Tugging her t-shirt into place and scraping her fingers through her wild hair, she padded out to the front door and peered through the security hole. She got a view of a guy’s chest, but she thought she knew who it was. She cracked the door open and peeked through the security chain. “Can I help you, Detective?”

The detective forced a slight smile. “I just wanted to check on you, see how you were doing after last night.”

Baylee appreciated that he’d taken the time. He’d never spoken to her in the building before, though. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking. I was sleeping,” she said, voice aggravated.

The detective winced a little, glancing behind him for a moment. “Sorry about that. Listen, you mind if I come in for a minute?”

Baylee considered him for a second, wondering why he needed to come in. It had been a long time since she’d had any kind of male in her apartment, and she wasn’t sure she wanted him in her space. And she certainly wasn’t dressed for company.

“It’ll just take a minute, I promise,” he said, his deep voice soft. “I need to talk about the case.”

“Wait a minute,” she said.

She slammed the door in his face, not caring if it was rude. Why was he banging on her door at… she glanced at the clock. Oh, it was three in the afternoon. Had she really slept that entire time?

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