SEAL Firsts Page 57

  “I’m his daughter.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Steven Cook.”

  “He have any illnesses or things I need to know? Medications?”

  “Geez.” Brandy wracked her brain, trying to remember if he’d told her anything about his health, and came up blank. “I don’t think he takes anything. As far as illnesses, not that he’s told me.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Sixty-two.”

  “No pacemakers, history of stroke or heart attack?”

  “No. Not that I know of. I really don’t know. He’s been healthy.”

  “So you didn’t see how this happened?”

  “No.”

  “Anybody angry with him for some reason?”

  “No, why?”

  “Sorry to have to tell you, but this was no accidental fall. It appears he was hit at the back of the head, you see here?”

  He showed her a dark mass of clotted blood, hair, and tissue at the back of his head, slightly underneath him.

  “And then it appears he fell, because this other wound looks like it happened when his head hit the floor. So we got two head injuries to deal with.”

  “I see.” Brandy tried to sound as calm as the paramedic was. But in spite of her efforts, her teeth began to chatter.

  “You going to be okay?” he asked.

  “I don’t like blood,” she whispered. Black dots began obscuring her vision, and she could tell she was close to passing out.

  The paramedic’s quick thinking had him grabbing her upper arms with his bloody gloved hands and positioning her on a nearby chair. “Put your head between your knees if you need to. I’ll get you some water in a minute. Better?”

  She was starting to get confused and could feel her breathing becoming labored. So much was happening.

  “Breathe. Take deep breaths,” he commanded.

  Her father still wasn’t moving. His dark lips were getting darker by the minute. She abruptly threw off his hands. “Dad. He looks terrible! He’s worse!”

  “We got it. Just don’t want you to die on me, okay?”

  The woman paramedic returned with a gurney, which she lowered and positioned next to her father. She cut his long-sleeved shirt with scissors and then started an IV before helping her partner lift him onto the bed. They raised the legs on the cart, clicked it into position, and ran toward the back of the van. The woman stayed behind while the male worker came back to check on Brandy.

  “Where can I get you some water? This is a store, right?” he asked.

  “There’s a case on the other side of this wall. Take a couple for yourselves, too.”

  He was back in seconds, snapping open the plastic cap and holding the bottle up to her mouth.

  Brandy guzzled the cool liquid, trying to keep up, but wound up spilling much of it down her front. She didn’t care.

  “That help some?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You have someone you can call?”

  “Kip’s here. I want to go be with my dad at the hospital.”

  “No, not in your condition. But we’re taking him to Scripps. You can meet us there. No way I want you driving by yourself.”

  “Gene?” his partner inserted herself in the exit. “We gotta go now.”

  “Okay, we’re outta here. The police will be arriving soon, so you’ll have to give them a statement. Then get someone to bring you down. Right now, we gotta focus on Mr. Cook. So, you take care.”

  “Thank you so much.” She started to stand, but he pushed her shoulders down.

  “Don’t be stubborn. Be smart.”

  She didn’t like the comment, but she didn’t have the energy to fight him back with some quick witty thing. If he only knew.

  Stubborn is my middle name.

  The police interviewed them both, promising to be brief so she could get to the hospital to see her father.

  Kip answered another question. “He asked me to do the home deliveries because he knew you were coming in.” He spoke directly to her.

  “How long were you gone?” the officer persisted.

  “Hour? Maybe an hour and a half. Normally, I’d go later, but I asked to get off early.” He turned to Brandy again. “I got a date.”

  That’s when she realized so did she. She’d promised to meet Tucker at the Rusty Scupper after work. He was working at the skydiving school all afternoon.

  “You know of anyone who would want to hurt Mr. Cook?” the officer asked.

  Brandy shook her head from side to side. “He doesn’t have any fights or enemies of any kind. Everyone loves him.”

  “Well,” Kip interrupted, “there is this one thing. He had a guy he let go last week. Several customers complained about him. Too friendly with the younger girls. I’m talking thirteen, fourteen-year-olds.”

  “When did this happen?” the officer asked.

  “Thursday, I think. Jorge Mendoza. I never liked him. Steve got him from some church group recommendation. He’d been staying at a halfway house. I told your dad he was stealing beer and drinking on his breaks, but he didn’t care until he started getting the complaints. Tats, even on his face. He stared at people. Cold eyes. Not a good dude at all. I was glad Steve let him go.”

  “I didn’t know about any of that.” Brandy admitted it was just like her dad to give someone a chance.

  Several customers came asking questions, after hearing the sirens and seeing the police activity. Brandy told them they were closing for the day, and that her father was in the hospital. The police reminded her afterwards not to give out many details.

  “Your father keep records here? Any way we could get this guy’s address?”

  “Um, yes. He keeps his records in the office, but I’ll have to dig a bit. He’s not the most organized owner out there. Some of it, he keeps in the safe,” Brandy answered. One of the officers followed her, and she was able to get the employee folder from the second file drawer. She lifted a heavy canvas seed sack to access her father’s safe and found it gaping open. “Holy crap.”

  Kip was at the doorway in a flash. “Ah shit. I was afraid of that.” He put his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, Brandy.”

  “Did everyone who worked here know about the safe?” one officer asked.

  “I wouldn’t think so, but then, Dad was pretty trusting.” shrugged Brandy.

  Kip added, “We were really busy over the weekend with New Years coming up. Everyone was shopping for last minute things. I think he closed early last night. I’m sure he didn’t make it to the bank. It’s a shame, but I’m guessing he had a lot of cash in that vault.”

  “Which points to Mendoza again,” said one of the officers.

  Brandy took another long gulp of her water, finishing it off. Her eyes filled with tears. Her day had gone from spectacular to tragic. She needed to go be at her father’s side. And what if he didn’t survive? What would she do? She just couldn’t bear to think about it.

  The officers agreed to let her go if they could question her further at the hospital. Kip was in charge of closing the store. Brandy agreed to keep the place closed until the police had finished their work, and Kip agreed to open it for them in the morning.

  Alone and headed back down the freeway, she left a message for Tucker, and then she burst out in tears, flushing out all the pain and pent up worry all the way to the hospital. By the time she arrived, her eyes felt like her lids were made of cardboard.

  This was not the way she’d expected this day to go. As she entered the Emergency Room doors, she began to find some of her courage. She hoped it would be enough for whatever news they’d give her. She said a little prayer before she approached the admitting desk and strained to keep her lower lip from wobbling, Taking a deep breath, she told the admitting clerk, “I’m here to see Steven Cook. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

  Chapter 7

  Tucker had removed his flight overalls, stowed his equipment, and repacked his chute and the tandem chute, double
checking each fold twice. He felt the vibration from his cell and noticed he’d gotten a message from Brandy.

  “It’s me, Brandy. I’m on my way to the hospital. Scripps ER. Dad’s been hurt, and they rushed him by ambulance. I’m meeting the police there. I have no idea how long I’ll be, but I don’t want to leave him until I know he’s going to be okay. So I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that burger and beer. Call me when you get a chance.”

  He dialed her back, sorry that he’d missed her call earlier. It had been nearly an hour. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Brandy, what happened? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know yet, Tucker. He was unconscious when they took him away. I’m waiting to find out if they’ll let me see him. He’s alive, and that’s a good thing, but I don’t know anything else. I wasn’t able to talk to him. I don’t know if he’s still unconscious.”

  “But how did he get hurt? Why are the police involved?”

  “It was a robbery at the store. They got the cash in the till, the contents of his safe, everything. The police are following up on a lead Kip gave them.”

  “Kip?”

  “I’m sorry. He’s dad’s helper.”

  “So how did he get hurt?”

  “Apparently, he was hit at the back of the head, and then fell. I found him on the floor near the cooler. He didn’t look good at all, Tucker. Lots of blood. I’m worried.”

  “Of course you are. Listen, can I meet you there? I’m about a half-hour away.”

  “I’d like that,” she murmured.

  Tucker could tell she was trying to stay collected but was having difficulty holding herself together. Her breathing was forced and ragged.

  “He’s at Scripps you say?”

  “Yes. I can call you if they take him somewhere else. But their ER and critical care is one of the best in the country.”

  “You got that right. Okay, I’ll be there as fast as I can. You need me to bring anything?”

  “Honestly, I’m not focusing on me at all. I think I’m still in shock. Just come. That would help.”

  Tucker stopped by his apartment, wanting to take a shower, but knew he didn’t have time. He changed his clothes, picked up a pillow and blanket, threw a couple of waters in a bag, and headed up the freeway.

  The sunset was a rosy pink, which sent a glow throughout the waiting room at the ER. His arms overflowing with the blanket and queen pillow, he scanned the seats and didn’t see Brandy, so asked the desk clerk. He peered over the top of his bundle, since the woman was taller than he was.

  “Are you family?” she asked, examining his armful.

  “Yes,” he lied.

  “Well, hon, the daughter is waiting outside the treatment room. They’re getting ready to take him up to ICU.”

  “How’s he doing? Can I come in and wait with her?”

  “Sorry, can’t give you his status, but let me ask her if she’d like some company. I’m betting she would,” she said, scanning the pillow again, squinting her eyes and smiling. “Can I have your name, please?”

  “Tucker Hudson.”

  “I’ll be right back.” The heavyset nurse winked at him and then moved with the speed of a linebacker, disappearing around the corner. It wasn’t every day Tucker spoke eyeball to eyeball with a woman who towered above him. In a few seconds, the side door opened, and the clerk called out, “Mr. Hudson, this way, please.”

  Brandy was in the hallway, speaking to a uniformed female officer. She abandoned the conversation temporarily and ran to his arms. An instant before she collided with him, he dropped his load and pulled her to him.

  “You holding up?” he whispered to the top of her head.

  “Better now.” She snuggled to press herself hard against his chest, wrapping her arms around him beneath his jacket.

  “How’s you dad?”

  Brandy pulled away, biting her lower lip. “Haven’t talked to the doctor yet, really. Dad’s had a brain scan and some bloodwork and some other tests. They told me his vitals were strong, but I don’t know anything else. Hoping someone will talk to me before they take him upstairs.”

  The female officer appeared behind Brandy. “If you give me just a couple more minutes, we can get my questions answered, and I’ll get out of your hair. That sound okay with you?”

  “I’m sorry.” Brandy walked back to the row of chairs they’d been sitting at, remained standing, her arms still about Tucker’s waist. Good as her word, the police officer finished her questions and then was gone within a handful of minutes. Brandy leaned against him as they sat down together. A male nurse had picked up the blanket and pillow and placed them nearby, neatly folded.

  “So how did this robbery occur? They hold him up at gunpoint? In the middle of the day?” Tucker asked.

  “We still don’t know that. Don’t even know how many of them there were.”

  “Your dad have cameras in the store?”

  “Only for looks. They don’t record.”

  “All this is appearing like it was someone who knows your dad. Knows his way around the store. Knows the routines.”

  “I think that’s what the police are going on. But, honestly, I don’t care about the money. I just want to be sure he’s okay, without any major—”

  “Ms. Cook?”

  Dr. Harrelson shook her hand and motioned for her to remain seated. He extended his hand to Tucker. “I’m Dr. Harrelson. You the husband? Boyfriend?”

  Tucker found himself stumbling for his words, a bit put on the spot. “Family friend,” he answered grasping the doctor’s paw.

  “Now that’s a handshake!” Dr. Harrelson barked, feigning injured fingers.

  Tucker thought he’d been rather careful and wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Okay, well we have good news and bad news, Ms. Cook. We’re not seeing much brain damage on the scan, and the wave patterns are normal. He’s got a little swelling, especially in the back here.” The doctor demonstrated on his own head, palming an area behind his right ear at the base of his skull. “There’s probably some pressure, which also could be from blood pooling, but we will monitor that, and it doesn’t seem to be increasing, thank God.”

  “That’s good. So what’s the bad news?” she asked.

  “He’s lost a considerable amount of blood, and he definitely has a minor skull fracture, probably a concussion as well. The next twelve to twenty-four hours will be the most telling, but we should know more once we see how he weathers this.”

  “Is he awake yet?”

  “No, and right now, I’m not anxious for him to be. I think we need to watch him, let his body heal and stabilize itself. There’s a chance we’ll have to go in there to relieve the pressure, but the bleeding has been stopped. We’re thinking the bones in his skull will heal on their own.”

  “That’s good news.” Tucker was feeling encouraged and hoped Brandy felt the same.

  “I was able to contact his primary care physician. Your dad’s in remarkable shape for sixty-two. His doctor gave me his medical history. That’s going to help us out a lot.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Brandy asked.

  To their side, they all watched as her father was wheeled out of the treatment room and down the hallway by two male attendants.

  “His color is much better,” she remarked.

  “Yeah. We were a little worried when he first came in, but he’s responding quickly. We hope that continues,” Dr. Harrelson added. They followed Mr. Cook’s gurney as it entered the elevator.

  Tucker noted the strong jawline and the shape of her father’s nose, indicating a strong family resemblance. His face looked relaxed. A large white bandage was wrapped around his skull down to the level of his eyebrows and ears. Tufts of graying hair stuck out the top where it had been left open, some of it still caked in dark red blood.

  “So we’re taking him upstairs, now,” the doctor started. “He’ll be in ICU, on the fourth floor, tonight. Once we get him situa
ted, if you want to briefly come in and say goodnight, that would be fine, but no more than five minutes. He probably won’t hear you, and he definitely won’t respond. Just preparing you for this.”

  “Thanks, doctor.”

  “I have rooms upstairs, if you need a place to crash, but honestly, it would probably be best if you just went home and got some rest. Nothing like sleeping in your own bed.”

  Brandy searched Tucker’s face. “What do you think?”

  “I think he’s right.” He knew his apartment was not more than five minutes away, but he was hesitant to suggest he take her there. He hadn’t entertained a woman at his place in several months and was in the habit of trying to avoid it at all costs. He was trying to recall how bad the place was, since it would be Brandy’s first impression of how he lived. Though a tiny niggling voice whispered caution, he found himself overruling it.

  “I don’t live too far. But if you want to stay here, I’m willing to sleep in a chair by your side. I’ve learned to sleep just about anywhere.”

  “You a Team Guy?” Dr. Harrelson asked.

  “Former.”

  “That explains the handshake. So, you two talk about it and then let me know. Give us about ten minutes to get him all situated, okay?”

  Brandy nodded as the doctor left.

  “I think he’s doing really great, Brandy.” Tucker had never seen the man before, but in light of what he’d been through, he thought Mr. Cook was looking good. “If he’s stabilized, no reason for you to get worn out trying to sleep here. Hospitals make me nervous. Just too much going on.”

  Tucker had an aversion to hospitals. Even when he’d broken his legs twice in combat, he demanded he be able to walk out on his own, whether in cast or crutches or both. The first time it was nearly impossible to navigate. He got good at asking people to get out of the way by swinging his crutch high above his head like a hammer throw. He even resumed his skydiving, until his LPO found out and put a stop to it.

  “You sure it’s no trouble?” she asked. “Do you have a roommate?”

  “No roommate. It’s sparsely decorated and probably not to your taste, but I guarantee the bed’s great.”