22.

Z OEY

I rolled over again and squeezed my eyes closed before I started the relaxing exercises I’d learned ages ago to help me sleep. Sometimes they worked, and sometimes they didn’t. Tonight, my brain wasn’t having it and refused to settle down and go back to sleep.

This was apparently going to be one of those nights where I couldn’t sleep at all, which meant that tomorrow was going to be one of those days where I walked around in a fog of exhaustion. I sat up and put my feet on the floor, waiting the usual time for my brain to catch up and quit swirling and my eyes to stop fluttering so I could focus, and remembered that I hadn’t completed my therapy today.

As I got up and quietly made my way out into the hallway, glancing over my shoulder to see that Garvey was sleeping soundly, I decided that now would be the perfect time to do that therapy. Better late than never seemed like my mantra nowadays since I’d been so busy that things seemed to slip through the cracks - my house wasn’t nearly as clean as I liked it to be, my refrigerator was filled with leftovers and food that needed to be thrown out, and Garvey and I had been getting dressed standing next to the dryer rather than taking the time to put the clothes away.

I’d been busier in the last few months than I ever had when I was working for the department, and even though I had loved almost everything about being a cop, I understood that the work I was doing now fulfilled me in a way that had never happened when I was on the force. However, I understood that I really needed to work on my work and life balance, but since my work was now within sight of my home, I tended to gravitate in that direction rather than take care of things in my house.

I knew I needed to take care of that problem before I suffered burnout, but it was so easy to just walk across the field and get lost in the garden instead of staying home and dealing with boring responsibilities like laundry and sweeping the floor. Of course, I felt the same way about riding my motorcycle, which trumped household chores even more than working in the garden.

I stood at the kitchen window for a few minutes, loving how bright it was outside because of the full moon. I walked over to the front door and entered the alarm code to shut it off so I could go outside. When I opened the door, I was hit with a nice cool breeze that I knew would disappear soon after the sun came up. I wanted more than anything to take my book out on the porch and read until it was time to watch the sunrise, something I hadn’t done in ages, and decided that would be my reward for spending a little time working around the house. I left the front door open so the breeze could come through and freshen up the air inside and then walked over to the thermostat and turned off the air conditioner so I didn’t waste energy and money.

Since I had a plan in mind, I started the coffee Garvey prepared every evening before he went to bed and then walked into the laundry room to tackle the first chore of the day - the mountain of clean clothes on the top and inside the dryer and the pile of dirty clothes sitting in front of the washer.

I had been suffering from vertigo for so long that it was second nature to drop to my knees and work on sorting the laundry rather than bending at the waist to complete the task and risk getting dizzy and falling over. My hip only twinged a little as I got down on the floor, and I smiled when I recalled that a few months ago, this position couldn’t have happened without an immense amount of pain.

I’d come so far in my recovery that I seemed to take the small things for granted, probably because I was still dealing with the fact that there were other things that would most likely never change. Luckily, I had learned to function in my everyday life despite the side effects of my brain injury and had even found ways to make sure it didn’t stop me from doing what I loved. For instance, when I was first released from the hospital, I couldn’t drive or ride my motorcycle. Now my leg and hip were just nuisances rather than stumbling blocks. I’d gotten so accustomed to the vertigo and nystagmus that I could function just like a regular person without having to worry about it affecting my ability to drive or ride now.

I heard footsteps near the front door and knew Garvey must be awake and looking for me. I wondered if I’d woken him up somehow and then smiled when I thought that he’d probably rolled over and realized I wasn’t in bed with him and got up to check on me. As much as I loved being an independent woman, it felt good knowing that he wanted to take care of me even when I protested.

For instance, I was sure he’d come into the laundry room any second now and grumble that the laundry could wait because I needed sleep more than anything. Of course, I’d put up a half-hearted protest before I let him lead me to bed rather than risk him staying up to help me rather than going back to bed himself.

I heard him bump into a kitchen chair on his way to the laundry room and slowly turned my head to look toward the doorway so I could smile at him and stave off the grumpy and rumpled sleepy bear. For some reason, he didn’t walk into the laundry room, though. It was the only light on in the house, so it should be obvious that’s where I was.

I had just stood up when it hit me - a smell that I didn’t associate with the Garvey I knew now, but I did associate with the Garvey I knew years ago.

I sniffed the air again, sure that I was wrong somehow, praying that I was just imagining things. I knew that smell, though. It was acrid and distinct, and there was no reason for it to be anywhere near my home. Garvey wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. Right?

When I heard someone’s heavy breathing just outside the laundry room door, I suddenly understood that it wasn’t Garvey abusing drugs I needed to worry about . . . it was someone else, and that someone just happened to be inside my home.

◆◆◆

GARVEY

I opened my eyes when I reached for Zoey and found cold sheets and an empty pillow. The moonlight was bright enough to let me see the room and even into the bathroom, so I knew she wasn’t here with me.

Knowing Zoey, she had tossed and turned for a little before she got up and started roaming around the house doing chores that we somehow never seemed to have time for during the day. That was something that I had dragged her back from many times in the hope that she’d finally go to sleep and get enough rest. The woman was constantly on the move. Even in her sleep, she was never still, which took some time for me to get used to, but when she was still now, I couldn’t sleep at all.

I sat on the edge of the bed and heard her go out the front door, trying to be quiet so she didn’t wake me. Hopefully, she’d taken her book out to read on the porch rather than putter around the house getting chores done. I hadn’t told her yet, but I’d made arrangements for a service to send someone to help us get on top of things like the laundry and the refrigerator, two things that seemed to irritate her more than anything else.

I heard shuffling footsteps out in the hall a second before a smell took me back to a time in my life I never wanted to repeat. I shook my head to rid my nose of the acrid reminder, wondering what in the fuck was wrong with me that I’d think it was coming from somewhere in Zoey’s home. I was still trying to clear my head when I heard her trying not to wake me as she crept into the room. I laughed before I said, “I must have been having some fucked-up dreams because I could swear I . . .”

When I took a breath, the smell almost knocked me over. I instantly knew it wasn’t a figment of my imagination. There was someone in the house with us, someone who had very recently gotten high, and Zoey was out there alone.

I jumped up off the bed right before I heard a loud thump. When I spun around, I realized that I had barely missed getting brained by the aluminum bat the stranger had in his hand. He hadn’t expected me to move, and when the bat bounced off the mattress where I’d been sitting, he lost control of it and fumbled, giving me just enough time to launch myself in his direction before he could raise his arm again.

We crashed against the dresser, and I heard a loud crack just before his high-pitched scream assaulted my ear that was right next to his mouth. I used all the force in my thighs to press him against the edge of the dresser while I twisted the bat out of his hand. I heard another scream from somewhere in the house, but because of my breath sawing in and out and the grunting of the man beneath me, I couldn’t tell if it was Zoey screaming or not.

When I finally got the bat away from the man, I jammed it into his leg, hoping to get his knee, but heard the bat hit the drawer behind him instead. I hit my target the next time, and the man screamed again before he let go of me and tried to curl up into himself. I pushed away from him and watched him fall as I lifted the bat and then slammed it down like a sledgehammer on the top of his head.

I didn’t even take the time to see what damage I had inflicted on the bastard. Instead, I pulled it back over my shoulder and hit him a few more times. By the time I heard another scream, this one that I was sure came from Zoey, the man was laying in a heap at my feet.

I vaulted over the man, narrowly missing the growing pool of blood around him, and sprinted out of the bedroom and down the hall. I slid into the living room with the bat raised, ready to swing, but didn’t see anyone around. The front door was wide open, but there was a light on in the laundry room, and I could hear noises coming from inside.

I jumped over the coffee table on my way across the room and skidded around the corner only to find Zoey and a man grappling on the floor. They rolled over and over, like a gator that was trying to take his prey underwater, and I didn’t know what I could do to help her.

There was a loud gurgling noise, and I could tell by the pitch that it wasn’t coming from Zoey. They finally stopped moving and I saw that the man who was laying on top of her was facing away from her. Zoey’s legs were wrapped around his waist and hooked together at her ankles, and she had her forearm across his neck in a hold that was cutting off his oxygen.

Her eyes were wide and darting from side to side, so I knew she couldn’t focus on me. I called out to her, “Be still, Zo. Hold him!”

His eyes were closed but shot open just before he started to squirm again. I lifted the bat up and took a chance, slamming it down on his forehead hard enough to shatter bone.

The second the bat made contact, Zoey let him go, and I flipped his body off of hers. When I started to pick her up, she shook her head and rolled over to her stomach before she got onto her hands and knees. She heaved, and I knew that the dizziness was too much. She was about to be sick, but I couldn’t help her now.

I spun around and scanned the living room, grateful for the full moon that lit up the house enough for me to see if a shadow moved. I could hear Zoey getting sick behind me, but I left her there to run back into the bedroom and grab our phones that were plugged in next to the bed. Once I had them, I used mine to call 911. While I talked to the dispatcher, I used the code to open Zoey’s phone and called Zane. When I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, I tossed Zoey’s phone toward her and dropped the one in my hand so I could chase the man who had just ran out the front door.

I sprinted outside and ran down the porch steps just as I heard Zane shout from across the street. I didn’t have the breath to answer him, so I just hoped he’d pass me by and go check on Zoey. Instead, I put every ounce of energy and strength I had into sprinting after the man ahead of me, thanking my past self for all the running I’d done since I was released from prison.

Just before the man reached the narrow gravel path that the family used as a road to get from house to house, I launched myself at his back and hit him with a loud thud. We hit the ground with him beneath me, and I felt the sharp pains where the gravel broke the skin of my legs and the top of my feet. I didn’t have time to care, though. The man started to squirm and flipped over to defend himself, so I took all of the anger and rage at the thought of him breaching Zoey’s sanctuary out on him with my fists.

I could hear Zane’s voice coming from somewhere far away, and then Zoey frantically calling my name, but I didn’t pay much attention. If she was calling for me, that just meant she was able to breathe and would be fine. My Zo was the strongest woman I’d ever met, and she’d get through whatever hurt this night had caused her. I’d help her work out whatever fear and doubt it created too.

But first, I needed to kill the son of a bitch for creating the problem in the first place.

Suddenly, I was lifted off the man, and I tried with all my might to fight the hold someone had around my chest. I could hear sirens in the distance, but I didn’t care. My job wasn’t finished. I knew he was still breathing, and that was unacceptable.

“Calm down!” Zane barked as he wrestled me to keep me away from the man on the ground. “Stop, Garvey! Stop!”

“Kill him,” I grunted as I tried to get away.

“I think he’s dead,” Zoey said from beside us before she rested her hand on my arm. “It’s okay, Garvey. It’s over.”

“No. Fuck him. I’m not done.”

“Stop fighting so I can let you go, you son of a bitch.”

Zoey stepped in front of us, and I stopped moving just so I wouldn’t accidentally hurt her as I tried to get away.

“It’s over, Garvey. Calm down. The cops are coming, and I don’t want them to see you as a threat.”

“Is he dead?” I asked as I shook Zane’s arms off and pulled Zoey into mine. “Check him, Zane. They’ll be pulling up any second, and I want to finish him before they get here.”

“He’s dead, Garvey,” Zane said as he knelt down next to the man.

“How dead?” I asked, still trying to see through the red haze that had come over me when I registered that someone was in our house and Zoey was in danger.

“Well, there’s generally only one kind of dead, and believe me when I say that he qualifies.”

“What about the other two?”

“ Two? ” Zane yelled as he scrambled to his feet and looked toward the house.

“Both dead.” I looked down as Zoey raised her eyebrows and said, “And, yes, I’m sure they're all the way dead.”

“They’re gonna want to take me in,” I said sadly as I watched the police cruisers speed down the road toward us. “They’re gonna take me back.”

“Like hell they are,” Zane growled.

“No. You’re not going anywhere, Gravy. I’ll make sure of it.” Zoey looked over her shoulder at her brother and said, “Give him your shorts!”

“What?”

“Our house is a crime scene, and we can’t go in and get him clothes. Don’t make him face the cops like this.” When her brother didn’t move quickly enough, Zoey yelled, “Now, Zane!”

Zane looked down and suddenly realized I was standing in the middle of the road as naked as the day I was born and burst out laughing as he pushed his basketball shorts down and stepped out of them. He tossed them at me and as he started jogging toward his house he said, “If you tell a soul that I wrestled a naked man, you’ll be the dead body in the middle of the street.”

I knew that Zoey was squeezing her eyes shut as she asked, “He’s not naked, is he?”

As I stepped into the basketball shorts, I glanced over and saw that Zane was wearing boxer briefs. I laughed before I said, “No, and it’s a good thing, too, because I’d still be standing here naked otherwise.”

“The cops have seen weirder things, believe me.”

“Well, I don’t want to add to the list,” I told her as I pulled her into my arms. I gave her a kiss just as the first patrol car slid to a stop a few yards away from us. As the officer got out, I said, “I love you, Zo. No matter what happens, just remember that, okay?”