Page 114 of Every Single Broken Piece
“This way,” the sheriff says, gesturing where we should go.
Up ahead, I see Deputy Stone half forcing, half dragging a hysterical Mrs. Adams toward one of the cruisers.
When we break through the lining of trees and walk past the mausoleum, the same paramedic from yesterday jogs toward us, carrying an emergency bag.
“What are we dealing with?” she asks the sheriff.
“It looks like a bullet grazed Levi, and they’re rattled, but other than that, they both seem to be fine,” he answers her.
When the paramedic comes toward me, I stop walking and say, “You’re not touching me.”
“She needs to look at your wound,” Kelcie says.
“No. I’m fine.” The paramedic comes too close, and when she reaches for my neck, I duck and back up. “Keep your fucking hands off me!”
“It’s okay, Brooklyn,” Kelcie says as she steps between the paramedic and me. “Tell me what to do.”
“We need to clean the wound so we can see if he needs stitches,” Brooklyn says while shooting me a scowl.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” Kelcie says.
“Don’t be stubborn, Levi,” Sheriff Williams mutters. “Let them fix you up.”
Knowing Kelcie will understand, I look at her and say, “I can’t handle being touched right now. Not after what just happened.”
Kelcie nods, then she holds her hand out to Brooklyn. “No one is laying a finger on my fiancé. Give me an antiseptic wipe so I can clean his wound.”
Only feeling the effects of the shock now, I sit down on the side of the paved lane that runs through the heart of the cemetery and close my eyes. Sucking in a deep breath, I try to come down from the adrenaline still rushing through my veins.
“It’s okay, Levi. It’s me touching you,” Kelcie whispers to warn me before she gently wipes the side of my neck. When it begins to burn, I clench my jaw.
Brooklyn sounds dangerously close when she says, “It’s not too bad. We’ll put on some ointment and a bandage. It should heal quickly.”
My eyes snap open, and I see that Kelcie’s on her knees beside me. She places her hand on my shoulder and presses a kiss to my forehead while we wait for Brooklyn to hand her the ointment.
It takes another few minutes until Kelcie sticks the bandage to my skin, then she climbs to her feet and smiles at Brooklyn. “Thank you for helping.”
“No problem,” she replies before heading to the ambulance.
Sheriff Williams lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s too cold to stand out here. Let’s get this over with quickly. Walk me through what happened.”
Wanting to spare Kelcie the trauma of reliving the ordeal, I quickly climb to my feet. “I’ll do it. Kelcie was unconscious. Can she wait in the truck, where it’s warm?”
“I dropped the keys somewhere,” she mutters while glancing around.
“You can sit in my cruiser while we search for them,” Sheriff Williams suggests.
Once I have Kelcie safely in the sheriff’s vehicle, I walk to the truck and find the keys lying by the left rear wheel. I gesture to where the Woodruffs are buried. “We were standing over there when Mrs. Adams arrived.”
We head to the graves, and I point at where the first bullet hit the snow. “That was the first shot she fired.” As I glance over the cemetery, I add, “I didn’t keep count of how many times she fired the gun, but one hit my truck as well.”
“We’ll collect all the rounds for evidence,” Sheriff Williams informs me, then he asks, “Where’s that dog of yours?”
“She’s at home.”
“Just as well,” he sighs. “At least she was out of harm’s way.”
I nod in agreement, then spend the next thirty minutes going through everything with the sheriff.
