Page 13 of Rules of Engagement

Chapter Four

"Lexi!"

I stopped pacing and looked up at the sound of my name being yelled across the long corridor. "Mom?" I whispered, my mother was suddenly bearing down on me, her arms outstretched. Next to her stood Dad, his face a hard mask as he marched towards me.

"My baby!" screamed Mom, darting forwards and sprinting past Dad. She collided with me, wrapping her arms around me. "Are you okay? Are you all right?" she asked, her voice breathy and gasping as she pulled back and examined me with frightened eyes. A pair of roving hands checked my arms, my head, and my torso for any signs of damage.

"Sorry," I murmured, my stomach rolling again as she pulled me in for another hug. I shivered hard despite her radiant warmth.

"Whatever for?" asked Mom.

"I got blood on you. Sorry," I said, pulling back and pointing to the transfer from my ruined blouse to my mother's sweater. "It's not mine. It's John's," I explained with a sob. All at once, my legs gave out and my mom caught me before I slumped to the floor. "Steve! Help!" she cried, struggling to hold me as my Dad hurried over as fast as he could. She and Dad hooked their arms under mine and half-lifted, half-dragged me to one of the plastic chairs in the corridor of Montgomery General. I wasn't sure how long I'd been here. A few minutes? It seemed like forever. The EMTs parked me here when we arrived with Solomon. Two police officers followed the ambulance and one sat with me now, too young and nervous to be considered any kind of authority.

"Where's John?" asked Dad.

"He's in surgery. He was shot twice in the chest. At point blank range." I blinked, struggling to focus, but I had to. The shivering got worse.

"You," said my dad, turning to the young officer who'd brought me to the hospital and remained with me. "Go get my daughter some water."

"Yes, sir." The officer took off at a fast clip.

"Have they told you anything else?"

"Who?" Focus, Lexi, focus.

"The surgeons," said Dad. "Have they given you any updates?"

"Not yet. They said it was a close call." I burst into tears, sobbing against my dad's shoulder as he held me, patting my back like I were a small child again.

"Did you see who did it?" he asked softly.

"No. We thought it was the pizza delivery guy. Solomon went over to answer the door and I heard a noise that sounded like two pops. I called to him and when he didn't answer, I got up and went to the door and Solomon was just leaning against the frame. I saw a motorcycle go past the house, very fast, then he turned and... and..." I gulped, fearing I was about to vomit. "There was so much blood," I sobbed.

"John is a healthy, strong man," said Dad. "He has been trained in how to survive."

"Did anyone hurt you?" Mom asked. She took the seat next to me and held my hand in hers.

I shook my head. "No. I didn't even see the person. The shooter. I heard some footsteps and that was it."

More footsteps approached and I disengaged myself from my parents, looking up in case it was the surgeon. Instead, my oldest brother, Garrett, a lieutenant in the homicide division of Montgomery Police Department was there. He came to a stop in front of me. He hadn’t learned yet how to mask his emotions and keep them from showing on his face like our father did. Now, his eyes burned with anger and concern. Behind him, the young officer returned with a bottle of water, hesitating to offer it to me. I held out my hand and he put the bottle in it without a word, retreating again to stand a few paces behind Garrett.

"Traci was working dispatch when she heard your address and report of a shooting," he said. "I got here as fast as I could. What the hell happened?"

"Someone shot John," said Dad. "He's in surgery now. We don't know anymore than that."

"Okay," said Garrett, nodding as he processed that. "Okay. Are you okay, Lexi?"

"Yes," I said.

"Did you get checked out?"

"No."

"Officer Krakow, go get a doctor to check out my sister. Now!" he barked and the young officer took off again. "You need to have someone look you over. You're riding on adrenaline and you might be going into shock."

"The shooter was gone by the time I got to the door," I told him, "I'm not shot. I'm just... I..." I didn't know what I was but the rational part of me, the part that I clung to most desperately now, decided he was right, I must have been in shock. As I agreed with Garrett’s prognosis, I began to shiver harder. Mom shrugged off her jacket and draped it around my shoulders.

"I'll get blood all over this too," I mumbled.

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