Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
Jock, Logan and I had a couple of drinks at the bar at Tommy Bahama’s and then moved to a booth for dinner. From there we walked to Cha Cha Coconuts for a couple more drinks, sitting at one of the sidewalk tables, enjoying the soft air of a November evening. I was into Diet Coke, since I didn’t want to run the risk of a DUI, or a hangover, for that matter. Our conversation was not at all memorable, just the idle talk of three people enjoying a pleasant evening on the island.
“Sure you don’t want to go across the street to Lynches?” Jock asked at some point in the evening.
“Certain,” I said.
“What’s wrong with Lynches?” asked Logan. “I thought that was one of your hangouts.”
“J.D.’s there with a friend,” I said. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Matt’s afraid it might be a man,” Jock said.
“Ah,” said Logan, grinning. “Want me to go check him out?”
“Keep your seat,” I said, forcing a frown.
“Is that his serious face?” asked Logan.
“I think so,” said Jock. “Or maybe he’s got to pee.”
“Have your sport,” I said. “Man or woman, it makes no difference to me.”
“Now that’s his lying face,” Logan said.
“That it is,” said Jock.
“I think I’ll go take a peek,” said Logan.
I looked at my watch. It was almost midnight. “The trollies have stopped running,” I said. “That’ll be a long walk back to your place.”
Logan laughed and raised his glass. “Point taken,” he said.
I heard a siren and watched a Sarasota Police cruiser rush down Boulevard of the Presidents and turn left onto Madison Drive. “A little excitement for the cops,” said Logan. “Those guys spend the whole night sitting in their cars listening to talk radio. They all hate Circle duty.”
“Can’t blame them,” I said. “I guess it gets pretty boring.”
More sirens, and an ambulance roared west on Madison Drive and crossed Boulevard of the Presidents. Just as it disappeared from sight behind the building on the southwest corner of the streets, the siren stopped. Another police car came by, lights flashing, but no siren.
“Looks like the same place the other cops went,” said Jock.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” asked Logan.
“Probably somebody had a heart attack,” I said. “There’s a lot of that around here.”
“I hope whoever it is, is okay.” Logan said.
We went back to our conversation.
Another ambulance came from the north, a Longboat Key ambulance this time. It turned right onto Madison and then cut its siren.
“What’s Longboat Key Rescue doing down here?” Jock asked.
“It’s the closest firehouse to St. Armands, other than the one around the corner,” I said. “They probably only have one ambulance there, so Longboat covers. It’s some kind of mutual assistance agreement between the city of Sarasota and the Town of Longboat Key.”
“I wonder why they need two ambulances,” said Logan.
My cell phone rattled in my pocket. I took it out and looked at the caller ID. “Bill Lester,” I said. “What’s he calling about this time of night?”
I opened the phone. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?” I asked.
“J.D.’s been stabbed. In the parking lot behind Lynches. I’m on my way now.”
“How bad?”
“Don’t know yet. Paramedics are on the scene. I just got the call.”
I hung up and stood abruptly, pushing my chair backward. “J.D.’s hurt,” I said as I began to sprint across the street toward Lynches. As I stepped off the curb and into the northbound lane of Boulevard of the Presidents, my peripheral vision picked up a car headed north toward Longboat, coming at high speed. I was committed, too far into it to stop. I hoped the guy had good brakes. But I don’t think he even saw me. If anything, he was picking up speed, coming faster. I sprinted toward the grassy median that separated the lanes. I leapt across the last few feet and landed in the median as the oncoming car brushed past me. I felt the air displaced by its passing against my back. I crossed the median and the southbound lane and into the front door of Lynches. Only one waitress was there, standing behind the bar. “Out back, Matt,” she said as I rushed through.
I hit the back door at full gallop. My first visual was of a man lying on the ground curled into a fetal position, J.D. with blood on her side, and a cop moving toward me. Paramedics were at work, one hovering close to J.D., another working on the man. Jill sat on the pavement next to J.D., but was moving away as I came to a stop and kneeled on the pavement. I thought she was dying, until I saw the smile. But that moment or two, when all I saw was blood and J.D. on the ground, would remain seared on my brain like some ugly scar.
I put my arms around her. Appearance be damned. I held her tightly, my cheek was pressed against her forehead. She put her hand on my other cheek, a gesture that seemed so intimate that I wanted to bawl. “I’m okay, Matt,” she said quietly. “I’m okay.”
I pulled back a little to see her face. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m sure,” she said, and kissed me on the lips. She held it for a second or two. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it sure as hell wasn’t just a friendly one either. “Will you ride to the hospital with me?”
“I’m not going to let you out of my sight,” I said.
She grinned. “I’ll probably have to undress,” she said. “You know, it being an emergency room and all.”
“I’ll just have to suffer through it,” I said.
She pulled my head down and hugged me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Jock and Logan came through the back door at a run. “Is she okay?” Jock called.
“She’s fine,” I said.
“Then you can let her go,” said Logan. “She might suffocate.”
I realized I was still hugging J.D. and I loosened my grip. The Sarasota medics were putting the bad guy into their ambulance. The Longboat Key medics were waiting with a stretcher to load J.D. She stood and climbed aboard the gurney on her own. “Can Matt go with me?” she asked the medic.
“Sure, J.D.,” he said.
Another car came into the parking lot, and Bill Lester scrambled out. “Is J.D. okay?” he asked.
“She’s fine, chief,” said the medic. “We’re taking her to Sarasota Memorial for a doc to take a look. She might have to have her side stitched up, but she’ll be good as new in a couple of days.”
“Good to know,” said Bill. “Our workers’ comp premiums are already too high.” He was already bleeding off the tension, trying a little humor to put us all at ease. He came over and talked for a minute to J.D. He patted her hand and waved to the medics. They loaded her into their ambulance. “Coming, Matt?” one of the medics asked. I nodded, told Bill I’d see him at the hospital, and started toward the ambulance.
“Hey, Matt,” Jock said. “I need the keys to your car. We’ll head on home. Looks like you’ve got everything in hand.” A grin was plastered on his face.
I threw him the keys, gave him the finger, and climbed aboard the ambulance.