Page 35 of Daddy's Little Librarian
Kurt crawled out the window, but he didn’t go down. He didn’t know how late it was, but it was dark. In the glow of the evenly spaced streetlamps, he caught a glimpse of Scotti in her pink bunny pajamas racing across the road to the neighbor across the street. Unlike the neighbors to either side of them, that house still had lights on.
It took two kicks for Gopher to break through Scotti’s bedroom door, and Kurt made sure Gopher caught sight of his dangling legs a half second before he pulled himself up onto the roof.
“You fucking monkey,” Gopher mused, leaning out the window after him.
Kurt ran along the edge, looking for an escape route. He found one almost directly opposite of the way he’d come up.
Gopher knew where he was heading almost before he did. When Kurt dropped onto the back-porch roof one story below, he only just caught a glimpse of the other man’s shadow racing past the bathroom window, heading back downstairs. Lowering himself off that roof next had Kurt dropping into Scotti’s azaleas. He stumbled over the decorative rocks that ringed her flowerbed and promptly fell right into his own impromptu grave. It was so dark he hadn’t even seen the hole until he hit the bottom of it. It wasn’t even; it wasn’t even deep.
“Half-ass idiot,” he said, scrambling to his feet just as his opponent ran out of the house through the sliding glass door. “I thought Gophers could dig!”
Gopher launched himself over the deck railing, tackling him back into the bottom of the grave. Kurt was bigger and stronger, but Gopher was faster. He was also driven, and it took every ounce of strength Kurt had to kick, thrash and wrestle his way to the top of their two-dog dog pile.
Gopher grabbed him by the throat. Unable to pry himself loose, Kurt grabbed him the same way. The wrestling match became a choke-off, and just as Gopher was gasping, wheezing, and starting to loosen his grip, stars exploded through Kurt’s head once more. A shower of dirt, flowers and broken pottery shards from the clay pot that had hit the back of his head rained down over Gopher’s at-once both dazed and surprised face.
Vaguely, Kurt heard Scotti’s startled, “Oh no!” just before, for the second time that night, Kurt slumped unconscious.
* * * * *
“You both are very lucky that I got here when I did,” District Attorney Emerson Davis told Scotti and Kurt, as they sat side by side on her front porch steps.
Hunkered in front of Kurt, an ambulance medic ran a finger back and forth, making him track it as a way of checking his responses. Scotti had never felt more guilty as she watched that, or more relieved when the medic said, “I don’t think there’s any serious damage, but I do recommend you go to the hospital, just to be sure.”
“I’m fine,” Kurt grumbled, shifting the cold pack over the massive goose egg her pot had left on the back of his head. In the dark, he’d looked like Gopher. She’d thought he was Gopher, and she’d just reacted, grabbing the first heavy thing she could find.
She could have hurt him.
She had hurt him; she could have killed him.
Holding one of his hands in both of hers, she rubbed his fingers and felt quietly horrible while several police officers tromped out of her house, leading a handcuffed Gopher past her down the steps to the three patrol cars now blocking the end of her driveway. Their flashing red, blue and white lights splashed her house, her lawn, the entire street. Every house she could see had neighbors standing on their porch, watching and talking amongst themselves.
“You’re very lucky,” the DA said again as Gopher was put into the back of a patrol car. “I’d hate to think what might have happened if I hadn’t recognized who was calling me a motherfucker.”
“Thank you,” Scotti told him, sincerely.
Adjusting the cold pack again, Kurt didn’t even look up.
“You really should go to the hospital,” the EMT tried again, packing up his kit to leave.
“I don’t need the bill or the hassle,” Kurt muttered.
“I’ll take him,” Scotti promised.
He looked at her. It was not a happy look. Also, she recognized stubborn when she saw it, but she was smart enough to know she had a better chance of badgering him into seeing a doctor if she waited until they were alone.
Exchanging identical looks, the EMTs went back to their truck, loaded up their gear and shut off the flashing amber lights. Then they drove away.
The police were also leaving.
“We’ll need you both to come down to the station,” Davis said before turning to her. “I’m going to put you in touch with our domestic violence agency, okay? We’ll need a full statement of what happened, but considering the state of the house, the bed you showed us, and the hole in the backyard, I don’t think you need to worry that Gopher will be released from jail any time soon.”
“Thanks,” Scotti managed a smile for his sake, rubbing at Kurt’s fingers, trapped between her nervous hands.
“You guys have had a busy night.” Turning to Kurt, the DA said, “How about you call me in the morning and we’ll set up a time so you can come down and talk to me?”
“How about you stop beating around the bush and just do it?” Kurt replied, calm and even, and seeming only mildly irritated until he pinned the other man with a hard stare. It was like that first day at the library all over again, standing in the bathroom with a man who stood before her as stiff and as emotionless as a marble statue. Only this time the statue was sitting, and he wasn’t quite as expressionless as he used to be. Or maybe she could just read him a bit better now.
“What do you mean?” Davis asked.
