“I’m going to leave you here for about two seconds while I step in and get the doctor. Don’t get excited. Everything is going to be fine.” A.J. realized the words were ludicrous. It would be a long time before everything was fine for her. Still, he meant well, and that ought to count for something. He patted her leg in a reassuring manner and reached for the door. She grabbed his arm and held it tight. The move surprised him. He looked over at her. She held him in a hard stare, her brown eyes tearful and intense. The bruises on her cheek and jaw were livid.
“Where is…?” She didn’t finish but kept her gaze focused on her savior. A.J. had participated in some tough conversations in his time, but he figured this one was going to win, hands down. He wanted to avoid it altogether and had thought to leave her with Doc, who could break all the bad news in his own good time. Doctors were trained for that sort of task; it was why they got the big slice of pie. And A.J. knew he needed to be getting about the business of hiring a lawyer or fleeing to Mexico.
He sighed. Why, after all, should this part of the day be any better than the rest of it? It was not a reasonable expectation, and he knew he had been foolish to hope for respite from the fishing trip from hell.
“My name is A.J. Longstreet,” he began slowly. “My friend and I found you in the woods. I have brought you to the doctor to get checked out.” She continued to stare at A.J.
“Where is… Kenneth?” she asked quietly. She seemed to be missing some facts, and A.J. wondered if she had amnesia. He assumed the dead boy was Kenneth. Maybe he was her beau. A.J. was on ground he did not want to plow.
“Is that the guy you were with at the campsite?” he asked. She nodded. A.J. knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable. “I am sorry to have to tell you this, but he’s dead.” The words ricocheted around the truck cab like shrapnel. The girl blinked and recoiled as if slapped. A.J. watched her closely, wondering how much detail of the morning’s events would return to her now. His first concern was for her well-being, but running a distant and nearly inconsequential second was the flickering thought that a little friendly testimony couldn’t do him any harm.
“I remember… those men. Then Kenneth tried to run…” She whispered before stopping abruptly. “He tried to run,” she said again. A.J. had saved her honor and her life and had dressed her and hauled her down a mountain, but he really couldn’t say he knew her well. He could, however, identify
“Don’t be too hard on him,” A.J. advised. “You ran up on three really bad guys. He never had a chance.”
“He tried to run,” she said, reemphasizing a point that was a kernel in her craw. “He was going to run off and leave me. To them. They shot him. Then someone tore my shirt off… and hit me.” Her hand strayed up to her bruised face and she winced when she touched it. “Then you told me we were at the doctor’s.” She spoke slowly, piecing the puzzle as she went. She seemed to be missing the big part after the backhand but before Doc’s driveway. A.J. supposed that the less she remembered, the better it would be for her. He would just have to rely on Eugene to back up his story.
“Let’s step inside and see Doc,” he suggested. Her face was turning an ugly shade of purple, and he was aware of several scratches on her chest that needed attention.
“I don’t feel like I’ve been raped,” she said, almost vacantly. She pulled the front of her shirt away from her body and briefly inspected her chest. “All bruised up and scratched,” she said, as if she were commenting upon apples down at the fruit stand. She looked over at A.J. “My shirt was ripped off. Now I have this one on. I should have been raped, but I’m not. I should be dead, but I’m not.”
“You’ve had a rough time,” A.J. said. “I think you were in shock. We should go on in and let the doctor check you out.” He had done his duty and was ready for the handoff. But she wasn’t moving. At least before, he could put her where he wanted her, and too much gab had not been an issue.
“Someone knocked those men off of me. My shirt was ripped. There was shooting. Then… then you and some other guy dressed me.” She was still looking his way, but he could not meet her gaze. She had been in need of clothing, and he had taken the chore as a matter of mercy. He had thought nothing of it then, but now it seemed a little personal. He was embarrassed.
“I’m sorry, but…”
“Sorry? Are you kidding? You saved my life. Thank you is not enough, but thank you.” She paused. “Those men are dead?” she asked. A.J. nodded.
“Yes, they have passed away,” he said, not prompting her.
“Good. I hope it hurt,” she said simply. A.J. suspected it probably had, especially the last one, but he did not enlighten her. “Where’s that other man, the one who helped you?” she asked. “And which one of you killed those men?” She hadn’t talked a great deal when they first met, but now she seemed committed to making up lost ground.
