Page 107 of Deadly Force
He crumples, shoulders shaking as he fights to contain his grief. Caleb's fingers brush against mine, a gentle reminder to leave.
I turn, making sure he hears me before I walk out of the church. "People will know how brave she was. I promise you that."
It’s the least I can offer him.
And it’s the only thing I have left to give her.
Caleb
The discharge process drags on for three hours. Paperwork, insurance calls, a parade of nurses triple-checking vitals. By the time we finally escape, the Arizona sun has turned vicious, baking the parking lot into a shimmering mirage of heat waves.
Considering I'm also injured, me trying to "help" Mateo into the passenger seat is about as useful as a one-armed paper hanger.
He looks better—the color's back in his cheeks. But the bruising around his collarbone has deepened to an ugly purple-black that makes my chest ache in sympathy.
I crank the A/C to arctic and pull into a shaded spot at the far end of the lot, as far from the hospital's antiseptic grip as I can get.
"Sorry, man. Silas wants an update," I say, reaching for my phone.
Mateo nods, shifting carefully in his seat. "Good. Be nice to know what's going on. Hard to be a team player when you're unconscious," he grumbles.
I chuckle and hit speaker. Silas answers on the first ring, like he's been sitting by the phone.
"You out?" he asks without preamble.
"We're clear," I say. "Discharged an hour ago. He's vertical. Sort of."
"I'm sitting right here," Mateo mutters, but there's no heat in it. Just tired amusement.
Silas doesn't laugh. Never does during debriefs. "Sam just checked in. Brooke's collected her things from the Tucson Times. They'll be home in ten minutes."
Good. The knot in my chest loosens slightly.
Silas's voice sharpens into business mode. "Zack dug up some information you might want to pass on to Brooke."
Mateo shifts in his seat, wincing slightly. "What kind of information?" I ask.
"A girl came forward. Her name is Juliette. Seventeen now. She confessed to calling Brooke and luring her into the Humanities building."
I exchange a glance with a puzzled Mateo. No time to fill him in now. "She was involved with Lawrence?"
Silas's voice goes tight with restrained anger. "Unwillingly. She was fourteen when he violated her at a 'Young Voices in Media' summer camp."
Mateo curses in Spanish, loud enough for Silas to hear through the speaker. "The mongrel forced her to have an abortion. She didn't want it. Didn't agree to it. They had to hold her down."
Mateo looks like he's about to lose what little breakfast he managed to eat. I want to punch something. Hard. "I knew I should've cut off his thumbs," I mutter.
But Silas isn't finished. "She wasn't lying to Brooke. She did know Eliza. Lawrence threatened her repeatedly, but when Eliza died, she called Brooke and told her about the clinic."
The silence stretches between us, heavy with implications. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles go white, trying to process the full scope of what Lawrence did. Not just the illegal procedures. Not just the cover-up. But forcing a terrified child into something that would haunt her forever.
I glance at Mateo, who's sharp as a tack, even when he's running on fumes and prescription painkillers.
"Are we done? I gotta call my girl. She'll be worried," Mateo says.
"Are we?" I ask Silas.
"You're both off rotation for now. Mateo, your recovery's non-negotiable. Caleb, you're on forced downtime until ortho clears you and I see you take a breath without wincing."
