Red Dirt

By Nancy Lynn

Hunter Nichols, a successful narcotics investigator for the Pittsburgh police department, is critically injured during a drug bust. While recovering, his life is again threatened by the father of the man he killed during the bust, a Colombian drug lord bent on savage revenge.

With the help of friends, family and a feisty Native American woman, Hunter discovers the true meaning of healing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456756697

Nancy Lynn

A natural born story teller, artist, skilled in most Heirloom Crafts and a damned fine cook, Nancy is a woman of vast experiences. Schooled in Life by Family and Friends, she has kept her sense of humor and courageous outlook on life, forging ahead no matter what life has thrown her way. She has lived in and traveled to many places and has been many things to many people. Once upon a time, she was a Stay-at-Home Mom but life has led her down a different path. Her fondest dream now is to spend the rest of her life doing what makes her happy . . . writing fabulous books!!! Nancy is at home in Arizona. Nancy knows a good story when it comes along and loves to share. Won’t you join her on this journey? Grab a ribbon and climb aboard, you are welcome to come along for the ride!!! You can keep tabs on her at www.nancylynnsbooks.com and emails are welcome at [e-mail] The Traveler’s Trilogy by Nancy Lynn A Stone Barn Red Dirt Passages – coming in 2012

Book preview

Chapter 1

Hunter Nichols paused in the familiar routine of strapping on the tools of his trade and took a moment to savor his success. He was living his dream, but a tickle of apprehension had begun in his chest.

He walked to the picture window of his modest thirteenth floor apartment and gazed out over the skyline of the city he called home. He was thirty years old, tall and well built, a highly successful narcotics detective for the Pittsburgh Police Department and about to make the bust of a lifetime.

So why was he feeling unsettled? What was wrong? Why was his heart pounding so heavy? He’d just had a nap and should feel rested and ready to go. It’s just pre-game jitters, he thought hopefully.

He opened the window and took a deep breath of the fresh, late spring evening air. The afternoon’s rain had left behind a few high clouds and the sunset was pouring across the sky in magnificent shades of reds and purples. How could he be feeling even the tiniest bit of doubt when the whole of his world seemed determined to make his life a good one?

The only real hitch in his life thus far had been almost two years ago when the woman he was in love with did an about face and marched out of his life. The bone of contention? He wanted a big family but she was horrified at the thought of distorting her voluptuous body for child bearing. That was then, in the past and done with. He was clearly better off without her.

He shook his head. He needed to clear his thoughts and concentrate on the job at hand.

Just as he was about to slide the window shut, he heard a bird call that struck a chord in his heart. It wasn’t something you heard every day in the big city. It was the high piercing call of a bird of prey. He stuck his head out the window and looked up over the rooftops. There! Soaring in a graceful circle overhead was a Red-tailed Hawk. Images of his college days came flooding through the window, filling the room. He instantly recognized the bird because in college he minored in wildlife management. It was his second dream. An odd minor for a criminal investigation major, he knew. But for him it worked. Why then, had he left that part of his dream life behind?

Damn! I don’t need these distractions! he shouted at the bird.

The hawk performed another graceful circle, dipped down towards the man at the window, then arched up and disappeared into the diminishing sunset.

Sliding the window shut, he finished his preparations and left. Maybe the sighting of the hawk was a good omen. He pulled his apartment door shut, locked it and headed out into the night.

Chapter 2

There were so many bullets. Hunter could hear them and he could see them, as if in slow motion. Wasn’t that an odd thing? Seeing bullets whiz by your own head slow enough to pluck them from the air with your fingers. The sound they made was the strangest thing. Sort of like a whistling whooshing noise low in the throat of a man who was having trouble breathing.

The bullets disappeared from his sight. He blinked his eyes and turning his head, saw his partner running towards him.

Why was Corky looking at him like that? Good ol’ Corky, always right there by his side. He was the best partner a guy could ever have. And his best friend, too.

He tried to speak, to ask Corky what was wrong, but all that came out was a whistling whooshing sound from low in his throat.

Just like the sound the bullets had made moments ago. That was funny! He tried to laugh, but it only made Corky more upset, so he stopped. Corky was sensitive about some things. He didn’t want to upset Corky.

There was somebody else behind Corky now and it looked like this new guy was trying to do something with some kind of tube thing. He tried to focus on this new face, but couldn’t because this new face was too close to his own, so he just concentrated on Corky’s face. That seemed to help and it made Corky happy. For a minute anyway. Then Corky got real upset, like he was in a panic. Corky’s mouth was frantically moving but he couldn’t make out what Corky was saying.

Then he couldn’t make anything out and nothing made any sense. Everybody’s faces were suddenly one big blur. The noises got all jumbled together. Except for the sound of the sirens. Why had that suddenly gotten louder? It was as if the sounds were right overhead. Then the only thing he could see was a bright light above him and the faint outline of a shining face.

Ruth Nichols always knew when something was wrong with one of her kids. It was a sixth sense that came with motherhood. Harvey Nichols always knew when his wife sensed something was wrong. She cooked enough food to feed a battalion.

Right now, the large kitchen in their spacious family home looked like she was preparing for an invasion. They had made phone calls and accounted for the whereabouts and well-being of all their children and grandchildren except for their youngest son. So Harvey sat quietly by the kitchen phone, reading a newspaper and waiting for Ruth to jump out of her skin when it rang. The gas tank of the car was already full and he had slipped an overnight bag into the trunk for both of them. Family emergencies, good and bad, were something they had gotten accustomed to. You didn’t raise three kids, live to be 70 and not learn how to deal with whatever life threw your way.

When the phone finally rang Ruth not only jumped out of her skin, she dropped a whole bowl of potato salad on the floor and didn’t move an inch to clean it up. Her face was ashen white.

Harvey knew this would be bad.

Chapter 3

He could still see the light above him, but the outline of the face kept fading in and out of focus. The face had a look of patience on it as if waiting to see what would happen.

Suddenly everything dimmed and the face disappeared. There was hardly any light around him except for a dark glowing blue, like the blue of a clear night sky just before it gets completely dark.

He could hear voices, frantic voices.

Clear!

Then a sudden flash of light, a sharp pulsing noise, and PAIN.

Oh, so much PAIN. Get me away from it. I can’t do this, the pain is too much! He felt as if he was shouting and silent at the same time. He felt as if his face was contorted in a look of unbearable pain, but he couldn’t feel any muscles moving.

Don’t you dare give up on me, Hunter Wade Nichols. You fight it. Don’t you leave me! You’re my baby and I won’t let you go!

Mom? Where was she? He could hear his mother’s voice, but couldn’t see her anywhere. The dark blue wouldn’t let him through to see his mother.

Come on, son. Your mother and I aren’t going to give up on you. Don’t you, either. Fight for yourself, son. We love you. We need you.

Dad! Dad was here, too. Of course Dad was here. Dad was always around when you needed him. Dad was his hero. If anybody could help, it was his Mom and Dad. And if they were both here, that must mean something. He couldn’t yet figure out if it was good or bad, but if both his parents were here, it was important.

The pain eased up a bit and the dark blue became a little hazy.

Somebody’s hands were holding his hands. On one side the hands felt small and soft. On the other side, the hands were rough and almost bigger than his.

He still wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew that those hands wouldn’t let him go.

Chapter 4

Mrs. Nichols, this is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my whole mouth!

Corky Jones, you charmer. You say that every time I make you coffee.

Yeah, well, that’s cause it’s true! I’m used to the crap we make in the squad room.

Then learn to make it better! Ruth’s eyes sparkled at the laughter from Corky. A lighter mood was what they all needed.

Ruth grew thoughtful as she sipped from her own cup. They were leaning against the kitchen counter in the ICU nurse’s lounge on the third floor of the hospital taking a break from watching over Hunter. Harvey was taking his turn bedside.

Corky, I can’t thank you enough for calling us when they brought Hunter in.

Corky put a long skinny black arm around the shoulders of his partner’s mother.

Mrs. Nichols, you know there isn’t a thing in the world I wouldn’t do for you and your family. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you finding out about Hunter from anybody else. The thought of Captain Owens’ hard, gravelly voice telling you that Hunter had been shot gave me the willies.

Ruth reached up and patted Corky’s cheek. Don’t be hard on Captain Owens. He can’t help the way his voice sounds. She suddenly gripped her coffee cup in both hands and sat down hard in one of the chairs at the table. Hunter’s voice may come back sounding just like that, considering where one of the bullets hit him. A large tear slid down her cheek.

A deep voice with a mild eastern Bronx accent spoke from the doorway. If he gets his voice back. Dr. Stevens walked over and sat down next to a disapproving Ruth Nichols. I warned you he might not even wake up from this coma, let alone speak again. Or even walk again. He took too many bullets in too many wrong places to let yourself get too optimistic. Right now I’d be happy if he just stays alive.

Ruth was on her feet, indignation on her face. When she spoke, she spoke softly and Dr. Stevens knew that when a woman like Ruth Nichols was pissed and still spoke in a quiet voice, the person on the receiving end was in big trouble.

I refuse to let your cynicism ruin my optimism for my son’s recovery! I don’t care how many cops you’ve sewn back together or how good a surgeon you are, your bedside manner and how you deal with families really, really stinks.

Mrs. Nichols? Dr. Stevens decided a change of tactics was in order.

What? Ruth’s back was straight as an arrow making her 5’7’ frame seem taller and the look on her face was fierce enough to knock any man down a notch or two. Corky, a head taller than Ruth, was acting as backup and had a grand scowl on his face, looking like he was ready to pounce at any moment.

How’d you get the nurses to let you into their sanctuary?

There was absolutely no hesitation to Ruth’s straightforward answer. Food. Great gobs of food that they don’t have to prepare themselves. Home cooking will open any door.

Corky’s grand scowl turned to one of astonishment as he looked from the mother of his best friend to the doctor that was trying to save his life. They both had Hunter’s best interests at heart and were determined to save him, they just had different expectations for the outcome.

Dr. Stevens may have saved many lives, but he had rarely come up against the kind of unfailing determination that the Nichols family exhibited. He had been a general surgeon for nearly 20 years, most of that time spent here at the hospital where Pittsburgh’s finest were brought to be patched up. No one seemed to know why, but this particular hospital had long ago become the place where all ambulances brought wounded police and firefighters. He made sure he lost very few patients.

The clearing of a voice brought the attention of all three to the doorway.

You three going to let anybody else at that coffee pot, or you just going to stand there scaring off all my nurses? The tall, sturdy, dark skinned frame of Angelica, the head ICU nurse, filled the doorway. At nearly forty years old, she was a handsome strong willed woman. Her nurses fondly referred to her as The Amazon, a title she proudly bore. The look on her very efficient face said she would brook no monkey business from anyone.

Corky blushed, quickly filled up Angelica’s favorite cup and handed it to her. Dr. Stevens harrumphed in his throat and moved aside for her to enter. Ruth stood where she was and grinned.

Won’t you join us? We were just sitting down to a snack with our coffee. Ruth pulled the lid off of a platter of fresh peanut butter cookies sitting in the center of the table and sat back down. Tensions broken, the others in the room joined her.

Every day since Hunter had been brought in, Ruth supplied ample amounts of food for the nurses’ lounge. She never came empty handed. Cooking was a situation she could control. Wondering if her son was going to live wasn’t.

After his surgery, when Hunter tried to die in the recovery room and defibrillation became necessary, Ruth went home and brought back all the food she had prepared while she was waiting for the next news about Hunter’s chances of recovery. Each time she went home to rest, she made more.

She knew in her heart that Dr. Stevens would do all he could to make sure Hunter recovered from his wounds. A man like Dr. Stevens didn’t spend 12 hours patching up a body and then let nature take its course. He was the kind of doctor who used all the tools and tricks of his trade. She just wished that he’d show a little more optimism when making his diagnoses about the degree of Hunter’s recovery from his many gunshot wounds.

Corky had most of the bullets the surgery team had removed from Hunter’s body in a jar in the pocket of his sport coat, just in case Hunter wanted to see them. The forensics lab had already analyzed and cataloged them and he had used his connections to gain possession of them, promising he would return them if and when they were needed. They served as a morbid kind of talisman. He was somehow convinced that if anybody threw them away or lost them, it would jinx Hunter and he wouldn’t pull through.

Chapter 5

There, he heard it again.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound kept coming and going through the haze that covered the dark blue light. He remembered hearing that sound before. In a hospital once a long time ago when a friend of his had gotten shot. It was a heart monitor.

But that was stupid. He wasn’t in a hospital; he was taking a nap in his own bed to rest up so he could be sharp, on the ball. He’d been working the streets of Pittsburgh doing his damnedest to put drug dealers out of business. There would be a big drug bust tonight. A bad batch of coke was being sold to the kids around his precinct and he had been able to find out who it was. He had plenty of good hard evidence to convict this asshole, all that was left was to arrest him and bring him to justice.

It was the best batch of police detective work he had ever done. Captain Owens said he would probably get a promotion out of this. Imagine that, thirty years old and already being considered for Captain.

He tried to take a deep breath, but found he couldn’t. The pain that hit him as his chest began to expand was unbelievably sharp. He felt a moan escape his lips and his eyelids flutter open.

At first everything was a blur. Hunter couldn’t focus on anything. He saw faint blurry images of stationary objects above him, but that was all. He tried to move his head to the side, but couldn’t. There seemed to be something holding him still.

Then a face moved into his line of vision. It was close enough to his that he could focus his eyes on it.

Hello son. Welcome back to the real world. The face came closer and kissed him on the forehead.

Dad. Hunter wanted to speak, but his throat felt blocked.

Don’t try to speak Hunter, you’ve got a couple tubes in the way. Harvey was frantically pushing the nurse call button that was attached to Hunter’s pillow. It was his only outward sign of stress. His son was lying there in a hospital bed with tubes in his throat and arm, a contraption holding his head still, one leg immobilized and elevated, a large bandage covering his left ear, and if you looked under his sheet most of the rest of him was covered in bandages and bruises.

I won’t ask you how you feel because I really don’t want to know. Make your old man feel better and blink once if you recognize me.

Blink.

Harvey Nichols’ weathered face split in a big toothy smile. Hunter thought it was the best thing he’d seen in a long time.

Okay! Blink once if you know where you are.

Blink blink.

Well, that’s okay. You weren’t exactly wide eyed and bushy-tailed when they brought you in here. You are in a hospital. Have been for five days.

Just then a hand gently took the nurse call button out of Harvey’s hand. He wasn’t even aware that he was still beating it to death with his thumb. Angelica smiled gently at him. Thank you Mr. Nichols. She turned and bent closer to Hunter’s face so he could see her and spoke in a low calming voice.

Hello handsome. Your mother told me you had green eyes, but she forgot to warn me just how heart stoppingly green they really are. I’m going to have to be careful who I assign to watch over you from now on. It’s going to be old married ladies from now on for you my friend. My young nurses would never pay any attention to the other patients. Angelica was methodically checking Hunter’s vital signs while she spoke. Harvey left to go find his wife.

The doctor is on his way. You’ve given us all quite a scare. I want your solemn promise never to do that again. Angelica was still smiling. Hunter could see the concern in her eyes as she spoke. She was listening to his lungs. Hmmm, much better. Your vital signs are much improved. Let’s have a look at the rest of you.

Just as she reached for the edge of the sheet covering Hunter, a man of medium build wearing a white doctor’s overcoat walked into Hunter’s line of vision.

Hunter, this is Dr. Stevens, your surgeon. Hunter looked at the doctor, then back at the nurse. He had a puzzled look on his face.

Nice to meet you, Hunter. The woman getting up close and personal with you here is Angelica, the head ICU nurse. She’s the best there is, but always assumes everyone already knows who she is. It’s a character flaw of hers.

Dr. Stevens didn’t get so much as a rise out of Angelica. She just smiled at Hunter and continued with her inspection of his wounds.

I suppose this is where, if you could talk, you would ask me what the hell happened and why are you lying there helpless as a baby. It’s because you’ve been shot. Many times. You came to me in the middle of the night, bleeding like a sieve and have cost me many nights’ sleep since. Your partner and every other cop who has been in here asking about you tells me that I take my life in my own hands if I let you die. I personally think they should be taking out their anger on whoever shot you, but then that’s just my opinion.

Hunter lifted a hand and reached up to touch his throat. Both Dr. Stevens and Angelica immediately pulled his hand back.

"No! No, Hunter you must not touch your throat. Or anywhere else for that matter. Not for a few more days. Dr. Stevens cleared his throat and calmed his voice a bit. I would want you to be in a little better shape before I tell you the full extent of your injuries, but it appears I won’t have that luxury."

Just then, Hunter heard more people come into his room and his mother’s face came into view. Ruth couldn’t hide the look of anxiety on her face and a single tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Hunter knew then that he was in really bad shape.

Ruth placed her hands on either side of Hunter’s face and gently kissed him on the mouth. Oh, my baby. It’s so good to see those eyes of yours open. Do you know me?

Blink.

Ruth looked to Harvey. That’s eyeblink language for yes, honey. He was holding his wife’s shoulders from behind, lending strength to them both.

I wish I could scoop you up in a big hug like I used to do when you were little, but I’m afraid that’s a bit out of the question. Besides, I don’t think I could hug you without causing you more pain. Is it very bad, buddy?

Blinkblinkblinkblinkblink.

Hunter’s eyes began to take on a glassy look. Dr. Stevens spoke softly to Ruth and Harvey. I need to do a bit more checking before he drifts off again, but he’ll be okay. I promise. He’s just tired and needs some good old regular sleep.

Ruth looked a bit doubtful. Harvey squeezed her shoulders a bit. The doctor’s right, Ruth. He’ll get much better from here on. Come on. Let’s go make some phone calls. The rest of the family will want to know what’s going on.

Ruth looked to Angelica, who gave her a nod of assurance. An age-old look passed between the women and Ruth knew she could rest easy. Angelica would stay with Hunter for the night. Ruth nodded her head in return, then turned to tell Hunter good night.

We’ll be back in the morning. You rest well. She leaned down and gave him a warm kiss on the cheek.

Harvey placed his hand over Hunter’s on the side of the bed. Good to have you back, son.

Hunter managed to follow their movements as they left the room. He could focus on things farther away now. As his parents went through the doorway, another body came into view. It was tall, skinny, black and dressed in an ugly green sport coat and jeans.

Corky. Hunter managed to raise his hand as Corky approached his bed. Corky grabbed the hand in a brotherly handshake and held it to his chest as he bent down to greet his partner of seven years.

Do you know that if you add up the numbers in our ages, it comes to thirteen?

A small crooked grin appeared at the corner of Hunter’s mouth. Corky’s cheerful face was a welcome sight after the worried looks of his parents. Corky could always be counted on to find a bright side to everything.

Blink.

Corky looked to Angelica for translation.

That’s one blink for yes, two for no, lots of blinks for desperation. Don’t take too long. He’s already wearing out.

Angelica and Dr. Stevens did some