the paperwork, and something for the pain.”
She returned a minute later with a youngish doctor. The nurse took scissors and began to cut Bree’s shirt.
“I’ll be in the hallway.” Matt turned away.
“Wait.” Bree unclipped her duty belt and handed it to him. “Take my backup piece too.”
Matt tugged up her pant leg and removed her ankle holster. Then he went outside, locked the guns in the vault in his SUV, and parked the vehicle in the lot. As he walked across the asphalt toward the ER entrance, Bree’s phone rang. Dana’s name appeared on the screen.
Matt answered the call. “It’s Matt.”
“Is she really OK?”
“Yes. We’re at the ER. A doctor is checking her out now.”
Dana’s sigh of relief was audible. “I just saw her answering questions on the news. The reporter came back on saying he couldn’t believe the sheriff had talked to him so calmly when apparently she’d been shot.”
“To be cliché, it’s just a flesh wound.”
“You can’t bullshit me. I’ve actually seen bullet wounds.”
“Sorry. I know that.” Matt winced. He should have been honest. Instead, he’d minimized the situation the same way Bree had. “It’s a straight furrow through her left triceps. Messy, but not terribly deep. She walked into the ER on her own two feet, and I expect she’ll walk out again later tonight.”
“That’s better.”
“I thought you were on a date.” Matt stopped on the concrete outside the sliding doors.
“Not a date. A disaster. Guy did nothing but talk about himself for an hour straight. I’m on my way home now. Does Adam know?”
“Yep. Bree called him.”
“OK.” Dana sounded partially mollified. “She should have called me too.”
“I know. I’ll tell her.”
“Please do. Call me if anything changes or if she needs anything.”
“Will do.” Matt ended the call and went inside. He walked into the ER hallway just as the doctor emerged from behind Bree’s curtain.
“You can go back in,” the doctor said.
Matt pulled the curtain aside. Bree was curled on her right side, her back to him. She wore a tank top. Her bloody uniform shirt sat in a plastic bag at the foot of the bed. The nurse had started an IV and, from the blurry look in Bree’s eyes, given her pain meds.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.” She sounded sleepy.
“We’re giving her something for the pain and nausea,” the nurse said. “The doctor is coming back with a local anesthetic. Then he’ll clean and stitch the wound.” She pushed a plastic chair next to the bed, then walked out.
Bree’s breathing had evened out, and the muscles of her face had softened. But it was the tattoo on the back of her shoulder that held Matt’s attention. He’d seen the one on her ankle and thought it nicely done, but this . . .
This was something else.
It was a stunning piece. Delicate dark green vines draped over her shoulder. A dragonfly in flight, larger than Matt’s splayed hand, perched on her shoulder blade, its wings fully spread. Its body of brilliant blue and pale green was almost iridescent in the overhead light. He had to look closely to see the huge scar he knew the tattoo covered. The artist had cleverly incorporated the raised scar tissue into the tattoo as texture. But if Matt looked closely, he could see the ugliness under the beauty. The scar had stretched as she’d grown, but he could still see its outline. It didn’t take much to imagine a large dog with its jaws clamped around a child’s shoulder. The dog would have shaken its head, trying to break the child’s neck—Bree’s neck—like Greta shook a stuffed toy. He could almost hear the terrified screams. She’d been five years old.
How had she survived?
The doctor returned, and the nurse directed Matt to the hallway again. As he left, he glanced back at Bree, curled up like a child. The dragonfly seemed to stare back at him. From a distance, the creature’s posture challenged him to dare its ability to overcome—to transform an ugly experience into a work of art.
Bree had told him the story, but seeing the scar brought a fresh wave of anger and empathy rolling through him. A burst of respect followed. It was no wonder she was terrified of dogs. Who wouldn’t be after a vicious, nearly fatal attack? Her true courage shone in her determination to overcome her fear. In short, she had survived because she didn’t know how to quit. She kept going, no matter the stakes, in every situation. He’d seen her plow headfirst into