Carrots: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Read online

  “What did you say?” Detective Williams asked. His brows were drawn down over his eyes like something I said didn’t make any sense. I scanned the other faces around me, and realized that everyone was looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “Dimples just asked me a question, and I answered it. You did, didn’t you?”

  “Dimples?” Detective Williams grinned, then cleared his throat like he was trying not to laugh.

  “Oh, sorry. I couldn’t remember his name, and you have to admit, he’s got really big dimples. It’s not something you could miss, especially when they spin around like…” I stopped before I made a bigger fool of myself.

  Everyone focused on Dimples, and his face turned a bright shade of red. “I’m Detective Harris.” He was talking to me slowly, like there was something wrong with me. “I’ve been assigned to your case with Detective Williams.” He stuck his hand out, and I took it automatically.

  “Shelby Nichols. Nice to meet you.” I said just as slowly. The detective smiled and his dimples got huge again. I choked back a chuckle, and couldn’t understand why just looking at him made me a little crazy.

  “I was going to ask you if you thought you would recognize him again.” Dimples a.k.a. Harris said.

  “You did ask me that.” At his confused expression I cringed. “Didn’t you?”

  “No. I was going to, but I hadn’t yet.”

  Detective Williams was growing impatient. “It doesn’t matter. I think we understand that she thinks she could identify him.” He turned to me. “You’re our only lead at the moment since the video feed at the bank only got the back of his head after the mask came off.” It would be great if she could come down to the station and give us a complete description though. Maybe we could even get an artist’s rendering done.

  My breath caught. What was going on? I knew he didn’t say the words, but I heard him as if he had. Next, he confirmed it by saying aloud those exact words. The room started to tilt and I felt the blood drain from my head. Chris steadied me when I swayed.

  “I think I’d like to go home now.”

  “Can this wait until tomorrow?” Chris asked. “I think my wife has had enough for one day.”

  The detectives exchanged glances. “Sure,” Dimples said. “We have the general description. Here’s my card. I’ll call you in the morning and maybe we can set up a time with an artist to get a more complete picture.” I watched his face to make sure I heard everything he said. It all came out right. Still, I nodded just to be on the safe side.

  I sighed with relief when they left. Chris did too. As he directed me to the car he was worried, and more than a little scared. Just an inch or two to the left and I’d be dead. He’d lose me and what would he do with the kids? Who would make sure they did their homework, and get them to all their practices and games? He couldn’t do all that, along with the demands of his job. He’d have to hire a housekeeper or something, and that could cost a lot of money.

  What? Where had that come from? I got into the car and tried to stop those depressing thoughts, only to get an instant headache. In pain, I leaned back into the seat and groaned.

  “Honey, are you all right?” Chris asked.

  “No. Something’s drastically wrong with my head.”

  He chuckled. “Well, yeah. I’m sure those stitches hurt. Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  My brain had to be misfiring or something, and my imagination was running wild. Somehow, I was imagining what I thought other people were thinking. That had to be it. The trauma of getting shot in the head was causing this wild reaction. If I got some good rest, this weirdness was sure to go away.

  As soon as we got home, Chris wanted me to go right to bed, but I wanted to see the kids first. Thank goodness he’d called them earlier and explained what had happened.

  When we pulled into the driveway, every window in the house blazed with light. Our house was old, but I had fallen in love with it after Chris and I were married. I loved the big front porch and the blossoming cherry trees in the front yard. We’d probably spent more money fixing it up than a new house would have cost, but I knew it was worth all the trouble the moment I walked in and felt safe and warm.

  The kids bounded into the living room as soon as they heard us come in. Josh wanted to hear all the gory details. At fourteen going on twenty, it hardly seemed to faze him that I’d nearly been killed. He thought the blood on my shirt and the stitches in my head looked cool. But I could tell it really troubled him, and handling it this way made it easier.

  Twelve-year-old Savannah was quiet and subdued. Normally she could talk my ear off, but not tonight. She held me a little tighter than normal, and didn’t let go until I reassured her that everything was going to be all right. Her thoughts were jumbled, racing from one idea to the next before the first was completed. I tried to block the noise from my mind and winced. She was so loud. “Can you talk more softly please?”

  “Mom, I haven’t said anything.”

  Oh no. She was right. “I’m going to lie down. I think I really need some sleep. Will you guys be okay?”

  “Sure, honey. We’ll be fine.” Chris’ brows were drawn together in concern, and Josh and Savannah eyed me with unease. Although none of them said anything, I could practically hear them thinking that I looked terrible. My shoulder-length blond hair was poking up on one side of my head, and I had mascara under my eyes. The blood on my shirt and in my hair, along with my pale face, made me look like a vampire. Or maybe it was vampire food. That seemed to be coming from Josh.

  I pasted a big smile on my face and practically ran to my bedroom. As I shut the door behind me, the barrage of thoughts ceased. Holy crap! What was going on? I was breathing pretty hard, and it took a minute to calm down. I jerked slightly when Chris came to the door, and said he was leaving to get my prescription and something to eat. I told him thanks, and relaxed when his footsteps retreated down the hall. The prescription was what I needed. That and some sleep, and I would be fine. This craziness would go away.

  In the bathroom, I avoided looking in the mirror while I turned on the hot water and wet down a washcloth. When I finally got the courage to look up, a pale wild-eyed version of me looked back. My blue eyes seemed startled, and there wasn’t any color in my lips. Kind of like vampire food. My neck and white shirt were covered in blood, adding to the effect. Good grief! No wonder they’d looked at me strange.

  I spent the next few minutes washing my face and neck, and felt a little better once I was clean. This time when I glanced in the mirror, I looked more like myself. Although my eyes still had that haunted look. It was probably because the scene when the gunman shot me kept playing over and over in my head. It was like a re-run that I couldn’t get to stop.

  I turned out the bathroom light, and with a calming breath, changed into my pajamas. Sleep was what I needed, and I would be fine in the morning. I crawled into bed and tried to relax, but couldn’t do it. I kept seeing the gun pointed at my face, and hearing the crack as it went off. Finally, Chris came in with some water and a pain pill.

  “How are you doing?” He sat beside me, his brows drawn together in concern. He thought I looked terrible. “Come here.” He pulled me into his arms and gently rubbed my back. “You’re safe now.” He kissed my forehead, then took my face in his hands and lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss was soft and gentle, and like a broken dam, tears flowed from my eyes. I clung to him and deepened the kiss, needing his warmth and strength.

  Breathless, he pulled away. “You really had me worried and I…just don’t ever do that to me again. All right?”

  “Okay. Sure.” I eagerly promised, needing him more than I needed air. The dark images hanging over me were forgotten. “Now get back here and finish what you started.”

  With a wolfish grin, he took me in his arms.

  ***

  The next morning I woke to the sound of the phone ringing. Chris was gone, and for a moment I panicked, wondering if the kids had made it to school. The clo
ck read eight-thirty, and I quickly picked up the phone. My voice cracked, and I had to clear my throat before I could say hello.

  “Mrs. Nichols? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. This is Detective Harris. Detective Williams and I would like to know if you could come down to the station and help us with an artist’s rendering of the suspect.”

  They didn’t waste any time. “I don’t know. I just woke up.”

  “I understand if you’re not feeling well. Would it help if we came to your house? We can be there in about forty-five minutes.”

  “All right…I guess.” He thanked me and hung up.

  I laid back down, then sat up with a jolt. Forty-five minutes? I should have made them give me at least an hour. What was I thinking? I showered and carefully washed my hair around the stitches since the doctor told me not to get them wet. My head was tender and painful, but I managed to blot my hair dry. At least my dark blond hair was long enough to cover up the stitches, but it took a while to fix it right.

  My face was another matter, but I didn’t really have time to put on any makeup. At least I’d lost that wild-eyed look. I compromised and applied some lipstick and hoped I didn’t look too bad.

  As I buttoned up my shirt, the doorbell rang. I hurried to the door, and there was Detective Williams and Dimples, along with a woman I figured was the artist. I invited them in, and the detectives smiled pleasantly. Dimples was surprised at how well I cleaned up. He liked the way my hair covered the stitches, and thought I looked good without makeup. He had no idea my eyes were so blue. I was about to thank him when I realized he hadn’t said a word.

  I took a step back, and sudden black spots clouded my vision. Williams grabbed my arm, and both of the detectives hurried me to the couch. As I took in big gulps of air, Dimples gently shoved my head between my legs.

  “This should help,” he said. “You must have stood up too fast or something.”

  The darkness slowly faded, and the world seemed to right itself. Now was not the time to panic. I managed to sit up, and put a reassuring smile on my face. “Sorry about that. I’m okay now. I guess I’m still a little woozy from yesterday.”

  “That’s understandable,” Dimples said, anxiously studying my face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes,” I assured him. He smiled encouragingly, and his whirling dimples instantly caught my attention.

  “This is Julie. She’s going to do a description for us on her laptop.”

  It was hard to tear my gaze away from his cheeks. The way his dimples flashed in and out seemed to have a hypnotic effect on me. With an effort I broke the spell, then turned my attention to Julie and gave her a quick nod.

  She was a professional, and got right down to business. I concentrated on the questions she asked, and it helped shut out thoughts I didn’t want to hear. It also kept me from freaking out.

  Every once in a while I could hear Williams suck in a breath, and mild annoyance came through. He was not a patient man. Dimples, on the other hand, was very encouraging. He was basically positive, and that helped a lot. Still, I was having a hard time blocking out some of the random thoughts they were sending.

  With all of that going on, it was a surprise to see the artist’s finished product. It was basically right, even though I couldn’t exactly remember the details. His eyes looked kind of crazy, like something out of a nightmare. Those she got perfect.

  Both of the detectives thanked me profusely, and I felt a little guilty at how quickly I ushered them out the door, but darn it, I was barely holding it together. As soon as they left, I shut the door and slumped onto the couch. What was going on? It wasn’t possible to read people’s minds. That was insane! How could a simple head wound cause this to happen? Could I hear everyone’s thoughts, or just those connected with the robbery?

  No, that didn’t make sense. Besides the detectives, I’d heard other people as well. Probably even the doctor who sewed up my head yesterday, and last night it was Chris and the kids. At that point, I thought maybe all I needed was a good night’s sleep, but now I knew nothing had changed. It hadn’t gone away. This was real, and it scared the living daylights out of me.

  The phone rang, startling me so much I nearly jumped a foot. When I got my breathing under control, I gingerly picked it up. The caller ID said it was my mom. Would I hear her thoughts over the phone? “Hello?”

  “Shelby? Is that you? You sound funny. Are you all right?”

  “Oh, sure Mom.” I listened to silence, and brightened considerably.

  “Well you don’t sound fine.” Again there was nothing in the pause, and I sighed with relief. “Are you going to answer me?” she continued. “What’s going on?”

  “Sorry Mom. I thought someone was coming to the door, but they kept walking up the street.” I was lying, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment. “Did Chris call you?”

  “Yes, and it’s a good thing he did before the paper came. Have you seen it?”

  “The newspaper?”

  “Oh, never mind,” she huffed. “How’s your head? Chris said you had to have stitches.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not too bad, although it still hurts some. I’m just a little out of it today, so I thought I’d take it easy.”

  “That’s a good idea. Do you need me to come over?”

  “No, not at all. I’ll be fine.” That came out a little forcefully, but I knew I wasn’t ready to face her thoughts.

  “Well, call if you need anything. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll fix something, and bring it over later.”

  “Oh, that’s great. Thanks.”

  We disconnected, and I felt better. At least now I knew I couldn’t hear anyone over the phone. I had a sudden vision of being locked in my room, and talking to everyone I knew on the phone, kind of like the people in prison. Yikes! There had to be something else I could do. Maybe all I needed was time. Maybe once my head healed up, it would go away. If I just knew it would get better, I could handle it. Maybe I could make it go away by sheer force of will. The words, “go away and never come back” brought me up short. Where had I heard that before? Now I was driving myself crazy. Get a grip, Shelby!

  I wandered into the kitchen for breakfast. I wasn’t very hungry, but since breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I thought I’d better eat it. I decided to pretend that nothing was wrong. And if it was, maybe there was a bright side to all this. Maybe I could get in one of those poker tournaments, and win a million dollars.

  I read the paper while I ate. I was on my second bite of toast when I saw the article. My throat got tight, and I couldn’t swallow. There was a picture of me, and the other man who was shot. My picture wasn’t bad. I was sitting on a gurney holding a towel to my head, and talking to the nice paramedic. Besides being so nice, he was really good-looking.

  The other photo showed them loading the man who was shot into the ambulance. All the tubes and medical equipment covered up his face. He looked like he was in bad shape, and I realized that I didn’t know if he’d lived or died.

  I scanned the article and found out that he was in critical condition. It was a relief to know he was alive, and I really hoped he’d make it. I was surprised to find how thorough the newspaper was. Not only were Dimples and Williams listed as the officers in charge of the investigation, but it also included both my name, and the other victim’s. His name was Carl Rogers, an average guy who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kind of like me.

  There were several eyewitness reports, but they were mostly reactions to what had happened. Apparently everyone else had ducked when the shots rang out.

  It was hard to believe someone would rob a bank inside a crowded grocery store, but according to the paper, this was the third time in two months this had happened at different stores. Only this time, people got hurt. Poor Carl Rogers. At least my injury was small compared to his.

  The phone rang, but this time it was my best friend, Holly. She wanted to know all the gory detai
ls, which I felt obligated to tell her. Plus, she would definitely appreciate the cute paramedic part. Talking to Holly was always good therapy. Of course, I left out the fact that I could read minds. I wasn’t going to tell anyone about that. They’d think I was crazy, or delusional. Until I told them what they were thinking.

  I’d barely hung up the phone when Then they’d probably want to stay as far away from me as possible.it rang again. This time it was my next door neighbor, and when I finished that call, it happened again. It seemed like everyone I knew in the neighborhood had read the newspaper, and wanted to know the whole story. After about the eighth time, I was ready to throw the phone at the wall. I figured an abbreviated version was in line, so the next time it rang, I answered abruptly without checking the caller ID.

  “Yes I was shot in the head, but the bullet only grazed me, and I’m still alive. I had to have stitches, but my hair pretty much covers it up, so you won’t be able to see any blood. Other than that, I’m doing fine.”

  “Honey?”

  “Oh, hi Chris.”

  “I take it you’ve been getting a lot of phone calls.”

  “Yeah, only about fifteen or so.” I was exaggerating, but by the end of the day it could be true. “But that was the first time I used the shortened version.”

  “I just thought I’d call to see how you were doing. Did your mom call?”

  “Yes, she’s bringing dinner tonight. Isn’t that nice?”

  “Yeah, that’s great. Maybe you should turn the phone off.”

  “That’s a great idea. I think I will.”

  “I’ll try and come home a little early. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. So how early is early?”

  “I’ll try and be home around five-thirty…unless you need me before that?”

  “No, that sounds good.” Five-thirty was early for him, and I didn’t want to push my luck. We said our goodbyes and I quickly turned off the phone. All that talking had given me a headache, and the stitches didn’t feel too good either, so I decided another pain pill was in order. Besides, who knew? Maybe I’d be back to normal after a little nap.