Shelley could have imagined possible, they had loaded the diabetic on a stretcher and were rushing him into the E.R.
Colt followed with Shelley. When her legs proved too wobbly to move quickly, he took Austin from her and led her through the pneumatic doors. From there a triage nurse took over. The next thing Shelley knew she was in a treatment room with Austin.
An oxygen mask was placed on Austin’s face, while he sat on her lap, blanket still wrapped around him, keeping him warm. The triage nurse took his vitals. A pediatrician entered soon after and checked for injuries. To Shelley’s relief, none were found. His stunned demeanor had been due to the shock of being in an accident, and the resulting rush of cortisol and adrenaline flooding his tiny system.
“We’ll continue to keep him warm, make sure he’s breathing well, give him some juice to drink and he’ll feel better in no time,” the pediatrician pronounced, looking as happy as Shelley that Austin was going to be just fine.
The doctor and nurse slipped out, and Shelley concentrated on soothing Austin. As her baby boy breathed in the oxygen rich air, his color returned—and so did his usual high spirits. Eventually, he had recovered enough to try to pull off his mask and say, “Sirens, Momma, sirens! Police car!”
“Yes,” Shelley acknowledged softly, replacing the mask, “we saw sirens and a police car.”
“Eeeee!” Austin reenacted the screeching and squealing, then gasped the way Shelley had gasped. He flailed his arms. “Boom!”
“Like I said—” Colt appeared in the doorway to the exam room, still resplendent in his tan uniform, his hat slanted across his brow “—a lot to take in for a little guy.” He smiled over at Austin. “Everything okay here?” he asked gently.
Shelley had never imagined Colt could be so tender. Heart in her throat, she nodded.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Behind Colt, another doc appeared in the hallway. “Good thing you brought Mr. Zellecky in when you did, Colt. Another ten minutes with his blood sugar that low and he’d have been in a diabetic coma. That coupled with his heart condition could have been fatal.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Colt turned to the doctor, concerned.
“Yeah. But we’re going to have to do something about him driving.”
“I know.” Colt stepped out into the hallway, his expression grim.
“And good work for getting the toddler here quickly, too....”
The murmur of voices moved off.
A nurse came back in with a container of juice. “How about we move you two up to Pediatrics? You’ll be a lot more comfortable there until we get the discharge paperwork together.”
More sirens sounded. Austin put his hands over his ears, suddenly looking completely stressed out again.
“Good idea,” Shelley said. She’d no sooner gotten settled upstairs than Colt reappeared. “I’m headed back to the scene. Obviously, we’re going to need a witness statement from you, but it doesn’t have to be done now.”
“Thank you. I’d prefer not to talk about it in front of Austin.”
He met her eyes. “How about I come by your house tomorrow morning? Say around eight?”
Shelley nodded.
“And then there’s the matter of your car...”
Shelley bit down in frustration. She’d been so concerned about her son, she hadn’t even thought about that.
“Would you like help with that, too?” Colt offered.
She swallowed hard, realizing it would be so easy to lean on him, now that she was back in town. “You can get it to me?” she asked, trying hard not to think about what had happened the last time she had let herself count on a man.
He smiled as he locked eyes with her son, and then turned back to her. “In a strictly unofficial capacity, yeah, I can.”
Despite herself, Shelley found herself really appreciating his propensity for going above and beyond the call of duty. “That would be great, Colt. Thank you.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He paused to bestow another tender smile on Austin, tipped his hat at her and strode out the door.
* * *
“A WORD WITH YOU, COLT?” Sheriff Ben Shepherd said late the following morning.
Colt pushed back from his computer and followed his boss into his private office.
Ben shut the door. A humorless brunette in her mid-forties was already there, waiting. “You remember Investigator Adams?”
Hard not to. Ilyse Adams was the internal affairs officer for the department. Colt sat down in the chair indicated.
Ben took a seat behind his desk. Ilyse, already sitting, opened up a notepad on her lap. A veteran of the Chicago police force, she had been hired after a traffic ticket and bribery scandal erupted the previous year in an adjacent county. Her job was to keep corruption at bay and ensure protocol was followed at every level.
“What’s going on?” Colt asked, afraid he already knew.
Ben steepled his hands in front of him. “There’s been a complaint you acted unprofessionally at the accident scene last night in not citing Mr. Zellecky for reckless driving.”
Colt exhaled. He’d known, after talking to the others in the E.R., that there was going to be trouble. “It didn’t seem appropriate, given Mr. Zellecky’s medical condition.”
Ben sighed. “The New York couple Mr. Zellecky hit feel otherwise. They allege deference was paid to the local resident who caused the accident over them.”
Aware the complaint mirrored what actually had been going on in Spring County the previous year, Colt protested, “That’s not true. Rio and I tended to both of them on a priority basis.” They’d been nothing but helpful and accommodating.
“I’d agree if you had cited Mr. Zellecky for causing the accident, but you didn’t.” Ben fixed Colt with a somber glance. “You will now.”
Colt pressed his lips together. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you have a problem with that, Deputy McCabe?” Investigator Adams asked coyly.
“Yeah, now that you ask,” Colt drawled, “as a matter of fact, I do.”
“Go on,” Ilyse encouraged with her usual can’t-wait-to-gut-you smile. Although, to date, she had yet to actually charge anyone in the department with illegal or unethical behavior. Some were questioning the value of such a high-salaried employee when there was no corruption to be found.
Colt looked the IA officer in the eye. “Taking Mr. Zellecky to court is a waste of time and resources.”
As protective of his officers as he was determined to run a clean department, Ben Shepherd intervened sternly, “That’s not for you to decide, Colt.”
Wasn’t it? “I beg to differ.” Colt leaned forward to make his point. “These kinds of decisions are what set us apart from big-city police forces. We know our residents. And this accident, as unfortunate as it was, wasn’t caused by deliberate carelessness—it was illness-related.”
Although his boss listened intently, the internal affairs officer looked skeptical. Undeterred, Colt continued, “It’s no secret Mr. Zellecky’s recently been under an enormous amount of stress. Consequently, his blood glucose levels have been all over the map. Very low blood sugar levels cause acute disorientation, to the point the diabetic both acts and appears drunk.”
“Exactly why he shouldn’t have been driving,” the IA officer said.
Colt interjected, “I talked to Mr. Zellecky last night after he was stabilized. He