INDIGO: LAW

  ADRIAN J. SMITH

  EREKA PRESS, LLC

  Copyright © 2022 by Adrian J. Smith

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by MiblArt

  Thank you so much for joining me on the adventure that is the Indigo B&B Series.

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  CHAPTER 1

  Consistent beeping permeated the dark recesses of Bridget’s brain. Her eyelids were like glue when she tried to open them, and it took more than one attempt to pry them open even a little. Then she had to blink several times before she could see anything clearly. The bed she lay on was decently comfortable, but the beeping got louder.

  The white board directly across from her had her name on it along with a slew of other information. Slow deep breaths were difficult, so Bridget switched to shallower breathing. Every muscle in her body was stiff, feeling as though it would take monumental effort to move. The room was small with a sliding glass door that was about a quarter of the way open, but it wasn’t easy to move her neck to see out of it.

  Bridget counted to ten, closing her eyes and trying to remember what had landed her here. A hospital was not someplace she ever wanted to wake up in alone. It scared the living daylights out of her and proved just how solitary a life she lived. Flexing her fingers, she tried to reach for a call button or something, anything that would alert someone she was awake and needed answers and that she really didn’t want to be by herself, but she could barely move, and when she did, it hurt.

  A new beep sounded next to her as the blood pressure cuff inflated and tightened around her arm. She couldn’t do anything to help herself—it was awful. She lay there, still and silent, because she wasn’t even sure if her voice would work. Or what she would say. A tear leaked from her eye, falling down her cheek and disappearing, the hot course it had taken burning her skin.

  It was light outside, that much she could tell at least, but she could barely turn to see the window and attempt to figure out what time of day it was. Her head pounded, and she closed her eyes to refocus herself. She was the fucking sheriff. She could do this, figure out what she was doing here, how she had ended up here. Slowing her breathing, Bridget centered herself. It took longer than she wanted to admit, but the technique she’d learned from the one therapist she’d fired seemed to work at long last.

  Feeling slightly more even-keeled, Bridget opened her eyes, found the clock on the wall, and read the time. A little after ten in the morning. All right, now she had to figure out what day it was. How long had she been laid up in the hospital without her knowing? And again, where the hell was everyone?

  Squinting because she didn’t have her glasses, Bridget had to focus to make out the date on the board. She couldn’t make it out, the lines too blurry for her bad eyesight. And she couldn’t remember either. It wasn’t like whatever happened to her was coming back full force, or any tidbits for that matter.

  Bridget rustled around, attempting to find the call button. She wanted to know what happened, and it would be easier to listen to someone tell her than try and figure it out from her non-existent memory. She had an IV in each arm and medical tape in more places than she cared to count. As she moved around, the tubes pulled slightly, but she didn’t stop until she found the small white remote-like device. She pressed the large button on the top and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Someone would be coming soon. They had to.

  Bridget tried to hold in her tears, gritting her teeth and tightening her shoulders until it hurt, but then she couldn’t loosen the muscles up again. Pain edged its way into the periphery of her mind, and her shallow breaths became harder to gasp. Fuck, what am I doing?

  She needed to calm down. That much was obvious. Managing to do that, however, was not easy. Bridget had always been a ball of nerves and tension whenever she had to sit and think and be by herself, and not knowing how she landed herself here—and having no one come in and explain it to her—was beyond comprehension. She couldn’t do this alone.

  Intentionally calming herself, Bridget closed her eyes and attempted to focus on her breathing, but the beeping and the gentle hum of machines kept distracting her. It took everything in her not to jump when the sliding glass door made a metallic sound as it was pushed open wider. Her eyelids flew open, and she stared at a middle-aged nurse with a short salt-and-pepper hair, dark blue scrubs, and wide hips.

  “I’m glad you’re awake,” she said, coming over to the machines and hitting a button. “This is your morphine drip. If you need more, hit the red button.”

  A small device was shoved into her palm. Bridget moved her hand to look at it, finding the button on top. She clicked it, hoping the morphine would ease the ache in her chest.

  “Has the doctor talked to you yet?”

  “No.” Bridget’s voice did not sound like her own. It was crackly and hard, barely recognizable.

  “I’ll get you some water for that.” The nurse pressed buttons on the machines and then leaned against the railing. “Do you remember waking up before?”

  “No,” Bridget repeated, confused. She’d woken up before? The last thing she remembered was going to work in the morning, putting her gear on and getting into her cruiser. She didn’t even remember getting to the station. “What day is it?”

  “Friday.”

  Bridget’s eyes widened as shock rang through her. “Friday? What happened to Thursday?”

  “You were in and out a lot of yesterday. Severe concussion.” The nurse’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry you don’t remember waking up any. You were pretty out of it when you did.”

  Parting her lips, Bridget narrowed her eyes to try and see the white board again, see if this lady was telling her the truth or not. She couldn’t have missed an entire day. “What happened?”

  “You were in a car accident. I’ll let the doctor explain your injuries, but it was pretty nasty.”

  “Car accident?” Bridget closed her eyes and sighed, knowing the answer so she didn’t even bother to ask. “While on duty.”

  “Yeah. We’ve kept the deputies out for now, but I’ll let them in if you want.”

  “No, please don’t.” Bridget would be mortified if they all saw her like this. She couldn’t even remember the accident. She wondered if she ever would, but until that came to pass, she was stuck in the hospital.

  “You’re in ICU, by the way. I’m not sure if you’ve figured that out. I’m Ann. I’ve been your nurse the last couple of days.”

  Bridget looked at her, the compassion echoing in Ann’s eyes so full of pity and pain. Bridget almost couldn’t stand it. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she begged her brain to make it so she didn’t cry. She did not want to cry.

  “It’s okay.” Ann reached over the railing and grasped her hand. “It’s okay to cry. It’s a shock to wake up in here, I’m sure.”

  “I…I don’t remember any of it.”

  “That’s okay. It might come back to you in small pieces. Is there someone I can call? Someone to come sit with you?”

  That was the question of the day. Who would she call? Certainly not her parents.

  “Your parents were here yesterday. I think they said they’d come back today, but they wanted to let you rest.”

  “Of course they did.” Bridget tried her damnedest not to roll her eyes or move too much. They wouldn’t want to sit in the hospital with their broken daughter who was no good to them. She’d never fit the mold they had created for her, and it was impossible to. She’d eventually given up—at least, she told herself that.

  “Is there anyone else I can call? A partner maybe?”

  Bridget stared at her, confused as to whether she meant a work partner or a lover. Either way, no, Bridget didn’t want anyone called. Yet she couldn’t very well be alone, could she? Could she do this and manage to survive all by herself?

  “You know,” Ann started, patting her hand again, “I’ve got someone I can call for you, okay? She’ll love to come sit with you until someone else can come.”

  “Who?” Bridget nearly shattered. How could this woman she’d never met before read her so fucking well?

  “Chaplain Melville. I promise you she’s not like any other chaplain you’ve met.”

  “I don’t believe.”

  “It won’t matter to her.” Ann squeezed her hand. “All she’ll be is someone who can sit here. All right?”

  Bridget nodded, though she wasn’t sure why she was agreeing. She did not want to be preached to or at. Her parents would do that enough when they came.

  “Can I call her?” Ann looked so sincere, and the last thing Bridget wanted was to sit by herself for hours to cry out her pain.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ll be right back.” Ann left the room, her feet silent on the linoleum floor.

  Bridget shifted as best as she could, but pain came searing back through her when she did. This time it wasn’t just in her chest but in her bac
k and in her leg, her head, and her arm. Whatever the hell had happened must have been bad. She lay still, pushing the damn button Ann had given her and hoping it would be enough to take the edge off. Except, it didn’t dispense the medicine.

  Cursing under her breath, Bridget closed her eyes. She needed to know what was wrong with her and what exactly she needed to do to heal and how long it would take. She needed to know when she could go back to work.

  Ann came back in, that same soft smile on her lips. “Hey, she’ll be up in a minute.”

  “Okay. What happened?”

  “You were in a car accident.”

  Bridget nodded. “I mean, what’s the damage? I hurt everywhere.”

  Ann’s look turned pitying. “I can give you some oral medicine to help take the edge off if you need.”

  “That’d be good. This—” she raised her hand as much as she could “—isn’t doing anything.”

  “It only dispenses every so often. It’s not a continual drip.”

  “Perfect,” Bridget muttered.

  “In terms of your injuries, the doctors will give you more details, but you cracked quite a few ribs, which is probably why it’s hard to breathe, you broke an arm and a leg, along with your ankle. I believe you’ll need surgery to fix that before you leave the hospital, but they wanted to be sure the internal bleeding stopped first. That was the primary concern.”

  “Internal bleeding.” Bridget’s mind spun. What the hell had happened to her? It was like something had run her over several dozen times.

  “It sounds worse than it was, I promise. You did have some abdominal surgery in order to stop the bleeding, but the incision isn’t too large. The main reason you were brought here is because of the head injury and because you weren’t waking up.”

  “Head injury?”

  Ann nodded. “But you seem to be far more together now. I’ll let the doctors know you’re awake so they can come talk to you about everything.”

  Bridget swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

  Yet the one question she had still hadn’t been answered. What kind of car accident had she been in? If these were her injuries, it must have been catastrophic. She remained quiet until Ann left the room after puttering around some more and inputting information on the computer. Bridget had never much been one for small talk, but just Ann’s presence was soothing enough for her.

  Almost as soon as Ann left, another woman came in, her stark white collar against her black shirt making it obvious who she was. Bridget couldn’t remember her name, however. Ann had said it so fast. Her hair was shoulder length and a nice light brown, and her eyes had that same pitying look Ann’s did.

  “Hi, I’m Chaplain Melville, but you can call me June if you want. Ann said you could use some company.”

  Bridget had to hold back her tears again, and she was so mad at the fact that she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She felt stupid for it. She was never one who showed her emotions like this, and the feeling of it was worse than the pain from her laundry list of injuries.

  June stepped right up to the bed and grasped Bridget’s hand. “Hey now. It’s all right. It’s good to cry, you know.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  June gave her a small smile, her lips curving up beautifully. “I understand that. I don’t like it much either. It’s kind of a real shitty feeling mixed with the release, isn’t it? Oh, and the headache afterward.”

  Bridget stared at her with wide eyes. “Did you just cuss?”

  Rolling her eyes, June chuckled. “Ann said you’re the sheriff.”

  “I am.”

  “I thought it might make you slightly more comfortable. You don’t have to act a certain way for me, Bridget. I’m here to be whatever you need right now, okay?”

  “Okay,” Bridget whispered. “When my parents show up, I need you to kick them out if they try to stay longer than an hour. I can’t handle more than that with them.”

  June’s gaze softened. “Do you want me to let the nurses know that too?”

  “Please.”

  “Done.” June gave her a brilliant smile. “I’ll stay here as long as you need. Is there someone else we can call to come sit with you, though? Someone who is a friend or another relative?”

  “No.” Bridget couldn’t look her in the eye when she admitted this. “No, there’s no one.”

  June didn’t answer, just squeezed her hand. Ann came back in and pushed a pill at her with some water. It took Bridget a bit to be able to sit up enough to sip the drink and swallow it, but the water felt heavenly on her throat.

  June stayed with her and chatted about whatever topics they came up with. Bridget was just sliding back to sleep when the voice she most dreaded hearing echoed down the hall. June must have caught her tension, because she straightened up and turned toward the door.

  “My parents,” Bridget whispered, eyeing June like she was about to be thrown into the family secrets. “Be warned. They’ll like you at least, so long as you don’t curse in front of them.”

  “Duly noted,” June answered.

  Sharon rushed into the room, her dark wool jacket over her shoulders, her dark pin-straight hair down her back. She eyed June suspiciously, stopping right in the door, her gaze flicking to June’s hand clasped over Bridget’s. Sharon said nothing as Edward came in behind her.

  “I’m Chaplain Melville. I work at the hospital.” June didn’t remove her hand from Bridget’s, for which she was very grateful.

  “Oh!” Immediately, Sharon’s entire demeanor changed. “I thought…never mind. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

  Bridget stared wide-eyed at her mother and father. “I am.”

  “How long have you been up?” Sharon asked.

  “Few hours at most. I don’t really remember. I can’t see without my contacts.”

  “Edward,” Sharon turned to her husband, “Did you bring her glasses?”

  He shook his head. Bridget nearly snorted but held it in. Why would her father ever remember something useful like that? Her mother, on the other hand, would likely purposely forget the glasses if only to make it harder on Bridget. That had been the name of the game her entire life growing up. In the shadow of her perfect siblings, she was the youngest and the worst screwup of all of them. Landing herself in the hospital in ICU was only proof of that.

  “Well, I’ll bring them tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” Bridget said, though she didn’t really mean it. She did not want her parents rummaging through her house for anything. Except, she didn’t really have a choice in that matter, did she?

  “Have they talked to you at all?” Sharon asked. “Sonny is so sorry it happened like this.”

  “Sonny?” Bridget’s brow furrowed.

  Sharon cocked her head in Bridget’s direction before glancing at Edward. “Didn’t they tell you?”

  “They told me I was in a car accident.”

  “Sonny ran you over with the combine.”

  Bridget’s chest tightened, and the stupid monitor on her heart rapidly beeped and proclaimed what she was feeling. She didn’t remember any of it. She composed her face, putting on the mask that she wore when she went into dangerous situations, and stared her mother down. “Oh.”

  “He’s in the jail.”

  “He would be,” Bridget commented. “Running over the sheriff is one thing that will surely land you there.”

  June glanced down at her, and Bridget knew she was being judged. She couldn’t hold it back, however. Her mother would no doubt ask that Sonny be let go, given a lesser sentence or charge, because “We’re all family in the town. We need each other to survive.” She could hear the argument now.

  “They said you’ll need surgery on your ankle.”

  Bridget nodded.

  “We’ll have you come stay with us when you get out.”

  Uncontrollably, Bridget tightened her grasp on June’s hand. She couldn’t go stay with them, but her mother had managed to prove the point that she couldn’t stay on her own, not with the stairs in her house and the injuries she had. She was barely going to be able to function with a broken arm, leg, and ribs. She needed to find a way out of that one.

  Sidestepping that conversation, Bridget said, “The doctors should be in soon.”