Page 76 of Monk
“He’s fine. He’s just going to take a nap for a while. Probably wake up with a bitch of a headache, too.”
Kasey physically relaxes as she lets out a long breath of relief. After slinging my weapon across my back, I turn to her. Taking her hands in mine, I look her up and down for the first time. She’s filthy, wet, and has blood smeared all over her face. Leaves, dirty, and twigs are stuck in her fiery red locks, which are sticking out in a million different directions in the most extreme case of bedhead I’ve ever seen, and her t-shirt is torn in half a dozen different places.
“Jesus, you look like shit. Couldn’t you have cleaned yourself up a little before I got here?” I tease.
“You’re such an asshole.”
Though tears continue to stream down her face, she laughs and buries her face in my chest. Raising my good arm, I pull her tightly to me and stroke her hair as she sobs. She finally steps back and looks up at me. I reach up and touch her swollen lip, brushing my knuckles gently across the scrapes on her face.
“You came for me,” she whispers.
“I always will.”
She squeezes my hands tightly. “I love you, Jacob Tulowhatever.”
I smile as I pick a twig out of her hair. “And I love you, you Northern California bushwoman.”
We laugh together for a moment, but the jostling of my body sends waves of pain rolling through me. I nearly double over with it and it takes me a moment to regain my breath.
“We need to get you to a doctor,” she says.
I nod. “Yeah, the thought crossed my mind.”
“What about him?”
“Plastic cuffs on my belt. Put a pair on his ankles, and another on his wrists. Cinch ’em down tight. We’ll tell the cops where they can come pick up the trash.”
I watch as she does what I’ve told her to do. She seems to take an evil delight in cinching his bonds exceptionally tight. Hopefully, he doesn’t lose circulation in his limbs before the cops find him. But if he does, oh well.
With Kasey’s hand in mine, we retrace our steps along the path and back toward the lodge. And as we get closer, I notice the absence of gunfire. The fight’s over, and judging by the fact that the Pharaohs are in possession of the lodge, some of them are taking selfies with what looks like a statue of a deer, though I can’t be sure, others appear to be taking selfies with dead sicarios, and laughter is echoing across the land, I will assume we carried the day.
As we emerge from the forest, both of us bloody and looking like hell, I see police cruisers and ambulances arriving on a scene that’s already buzzing with activity. As Cosmo rushes over to me, an EMT in tow, I see Sheriff Singer step out of the crowd. I watch as his eyes fall on Kasey, and then see him sprinting toward her. She gives me a smile.
“Go see your dad,” I tell her.
She meets him halfway and I watch as he sweeps her up in a tight embrace, lifting her from the ground, and spins her around. She’s laughing and telling him to put her down. He does, but he won’t relinquish his hold on her.
Amid the chaos that surrounds them, Kasey and her father share a genuine moment. One filled with tears, laughter, and heartfelt sentiment. I see it’s the sheriff who’s doing most of the talking, and then Kasey throws herself against him again, wrapping him in a tight embrace.
“I guess the old man found his words after all,” I mutter.
Cosmo gets to me, his eyes filled with worry as he takes in my shoulder. The EMT sits me down on a log and cuts away my shirt to get a better look at it. Even Cosmo winces, which is supposed scare me, but it doesn’t.
“Are you okay, kid?” he asks.
Looking around, I take in the scene all around me. I look at Kasey and her dad, then turn my eyes to all of the guys in their kuttes milling around, and I see Max, talking animatedly with Poe. He’s gesturing wildly, no doubt describing his role in the firefight. Finally, I look back up at Cosmo, my most trusted friend in all the world. I nod.
“Yeah,” I say. “Today is a good day.”
Epilogue
Monk
Two Weeks Later
The sun is slipping toward the horizon, casting the sky in vivid shades of red and gold. The air is crisp and filled with the heavy scent of the sea, and the earthy musk of the forest. It’s been two weeks since the shootout at the lodge, and it’s been a constant barrage of shit.
The sheriff, true to his word, has done his best to shield us from the worst of it, portraying our role as peripheral to the events of the day. It was the deal we worked out with him, which we are totally fine with. The last thing we want is publicity, especially since the FBI has been crawling all over Blue Rock, looking for answers or loose ends and flaws in the sheriff’s story.
