Lost Souls by J. Bishop (the giving tree read aloud txt) 📗

They sprinted forward, the officers behind them.

Approaching the trio, Rem saw Trick supporting an injured and bloody Mason, and Mikey, looking she might drop where she stood, her clothes ripped and dirty, her throat bruised, and her cheek red and swollen. Despite her injuries, though, she was alive, and Rem sighed, relief coursing through him.

After arriving at the secluded house and accessing the grounds, they’d found Valerie Vain with a bleeding Lydia, and Valerie told them what had happened. After calling EMTs, they’d jumped into a car with two other officers and followed the rutted road to Bradley’s vehicle. Heading into the woods, Rem had braced for the worst. He’d already lost someone close to him, and he didn’t want to lose someone else. They’d struggled to follow the tracks when three gunshots rang out and they’d raced toward the noise.

“Mikey,” said Rem, running up with Daniels. Mason stumbled and Trick struggled to keep Mason on his feet. Mikey offered her support, but was about to collapse herself.

“Rem,” she said, her voice rough.

“Bradley’s dead. I have his weapon,” said Trick. “I need help with Mason.”

Daniels directed the uniformed men to take care of Bradley and ran up to Mason, taking Mikey’s place and helping Trick. “I got him,” said Daniels. “Let’s go.” Daniels and Trick hauled Mason back toward the trail.

Rem took Mikey’s arm and he could feel her trembling. He caught her before she fell and she latched onto him. “Are you okay?” he asked. His arms went around her, and he kept her upright.

Her arms encircled him, and her head fell into the nape of his neck, and she nodded against him. Seeing the blood on her shirt, he worried. “Are you hurt? Are you bleeding?”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s Mason’s blood.”

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he said. “Hold on.” And he scooped her up and carried her.

“I’m…okay. I…I can walk,” she sputtered, her voice barely audible.

“Would you shut up,” he said. “Stop trying to be so damn strong. I got you. You helped me when I was a mess. Let me help you this time. Okay?”

Her fingers dug into his shirt and she curled into him. Whatever dam she’d erected began to break, and he heard a sob. Thinking of what she must have endured, he half considered returning to Bradley and shooting him again just to ensure he was dead. He rested his chin on her head and offered soothing words. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

The last bit of dam crumbled and, her shoulders shaking, she cried into the hollow of his neck as he walked with her back to the trail.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Trick walked out onto the back porch with a pitcher of margaritas. “Let the party commence.” He poured some into Valerie’s glass, as she sat in a patio chair beside Daniels and his wife, Marjorie.

Mason held up his hand. “I’ll stick to beer. Thanks.” He held his bottle and rubbed his achy shoulder. His arm hung in a sling, and he tried to adjust it.

“Don’t forget me,” said Rem, standing and holding out a glass. He’d been sitting with Daniels’ and Marjorie’s one-year-old son, J.P., in the grass and playing with him and his toys.

Trick leaned over and filled it. “Enchiladas will be ready soon.”

Rem grinned, and Mason half expected him to drool. “I can’t wait,” said Rem.

Daniels laughed. “I may have lost a partner.” He grabbed a chip from the bowl on the table. “Think you can put up with him, Trick?”

“I’ve already got my hands full with this guy, who’s taking loads of my time.” He nodded at Mason.

“Hey,” Rem pointed at Daniels, “you start cooking enchiladas, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I thought I had you at my Chicken Marsala,” said Marjorie.

Rem’s shoulders fell. “That’s true. Sorry, Trick. You’re stuck with Mason.”

“Lucky me,” said Mason.

Trick put the pitcher on the table. “Remember now, you owe me twice.” He held up two fingers at Mason.

“I thought we called it even,” said Mason.

“I lied,” said Trick. He held up his glass. “A toast.”

“Wait. Where’s Mikey?” asked Rem.

The back door opened, and Mikey came out with a bowl and her own glass of margarita. “Here’s the queso.” She set it on the table with the chips.

“This just keeps getting better and better,” said Rem.

“We’re toasting, Mikey,” said Trick. He raised his glass.

Mikey held her margarita as everyone raised their drink. Mason watched her though, seeing the dullness behind her eyes. Her cheek had healed, but splotchy yellow bruises still marked her throat. A week had passed since Bradley’s death and Lydia’s hospitalization. Lydia had survived, but remained in the hospital. Mikey still seemed haunted though, and he sensed it was about more than just Bradley’s assault.

“To good friends, good food, and good women.” He winked at Valerie, and Mason rolled his eyes. “All of whom at this gathering have saved our asses.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Daniels, lifting his drink and holding Marjorie’s hand.

“For sure,” said Rem, looking at Mikey.

Mason raised his bottle to Valerie and she clinked her glass to his. “To good women,” he said.

“And good men,” she said, holding his gaze.

Trick held up his glass again. “And to Bevins and Winkler. May Bevins enjoy eating the hat I sent him. Hopefully, the Pepto Bismol I included will help with the digestion.”

“You didn’t?” asked Mason.

“Oh, I did,” said Trick, with a grin.

“I hope he poops felt for days,” said Rem. “Maybe Winkler will request a new partner.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Daniels.

“I’ll check the enchiladas,” said Mikey, and she disappeared into the house.

“So, what happens next, Trick?” asked Daniels, leaning up to check on J.P., who chased a ball in the yard. “You going back to Texas?”

Trick drank his margarita, and settled into a chair. “For a while at least. I have a few fences to mend.”

“What about Cissy?” asked Rem. “Any future there?”

Trick shook his head. “No. The water has washed way under that bridge. I think that was more about grief and loneliness than anything, for both