Sin Worth the Penance Read online

  “Sweet Lawd,” Deir’ whispered. “Why didn’t ya tell me she was beat?”

  I stared. “I didn’t know.”

  She stepped in front of me and hustled to the side of the bed.

  Her movement stirred me, and I followed. I peered over her shoulder. Bridey’s shirt was in tatters and covered with blood. It was hard to tell which wound it was coming from. There was a gash on the side of her head, a bad cut across one cheek, and her face was…pure mangled, and a deathly gray. “What the hell happened?” I breathed.

  “Bridget? Bridget, honey?”

  She moaned, which was actually reassuring because she looked half-dead.

  “Killian. I can’t deal with this. We need to get her to the hospital.”

  “All right. I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “They cost a bloody fortune.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll pay for it.”

  She studied Bridey again. “It’ll take ’em a half-hour to get here from Kinsale. I—” she brought a hand to cover her mouth for a second. “I don’t know if she’ll make it.”

  What?

  “Well, we have to do something!”

  She came to life. “We’ll meet the ambulance if we have to.” She bent over the bed. “Bridget, please, honey?”

  Her eyes fluttered.

  “Oh, praise Gawd. Can ya walk, love?”

  I moved around Deirdre. “I’ll carry her.” But when I went to scoop her up, Deir’ slapped my hands away.

  “No. I’m afeard it’ll hurt her more. She likely has some crocked ribs. Bridget? We need to get you to a doctor. If we help you, can ya stand?”

  “Deir’?” she croaked.

  Deirdre laughed, sounding relieved. “That’s right, lamb. We’re going to help you to the car. Let’s get ya up.”

  “Should I wake Paddy?”

  “Oh, ya don’t know your uncle, lad. You could light a cannon beside his bed, and if he hasn’t gotten his eight hours, he won’t wake.”

  I dashed to the other side of the bed and climbed in next to Bridey. Aunt Deirdre had gotten her mostly to a seated position, and Bridey’s arm was over her shoulder, though limp. I wasn’t sure how to be of assistance, so I watched helplessly.

  “All right, love. Now we’re just going to swing your legs over the side.”

  Bridey’s breathing had changed, slightly smoother, slightly quieter. She lifted her shoulders and tried to take a deep breath but groaned.

  “Thatta gal. You’re doing wonderful, dove.”

  I was as useless as a lighthouse on a bog. I got out of the bed and ran around to their side again.

  “Get under her shoulder.” Deirdre did the same on the other side. “All right now.” Deirdre took a breath. “We’ll count to three and get ya on your feet, gal. Ya ready?”

  Bridey gave a slight nod. Deir’ glanced at me, and I bobbed my head, too.

  “One…two…three.” We rose slowly.

  “Uum.” Her hand on my shoulder bunched my shirt, and her arms shook.

  Deirdre peered at me, her face ashen, mouth hanging open. She seemed to be asking me if I thought we were on the right path. I assessed Bridey. Her eyes were almost swollen shut, lips cut and bleeding in numerous places. I looked back at Deirdre. She was staring at the bed. I glanced over my shoulder. My pillow was saturated in blood. We had more to worry about than her breathing. We exchanged a look. I nodded toward the stairs, trying to reassure her.

  Don’t lose it now, Deirdre. I need ya.

  She closed her eyes for a second. “All right. We’ll take one step at a time, now. You can do it.”

  Bridey shuffled her feet, stumbling forward, but having’ to rest between each step. We had only about four feet between us and the stairs, but it seemed like a mile.

  “You’re doing a fine job, Bridey,” I murmured. “Just fine.”

  The thought of her attempting the stairs frightened the hell out of me. Once there, we had a brief discussion about the best way to help her. It was decided Deir’ and I would both turn sideways, step one foot down, and help to transition her from level to level. Even with this, she cried out with pain when she sifted her weight from foot to foot on the first step.

  I looked at Deirdre. “I’m carrying her. I’ll be careful.”

  Deir’ hesitated, then nodded.

  “Bridey, I’m going to carry you the rest of the way, all right?”

  She mumbled her consent. As carefully as I could, I swept her off her feet, trying to keep as little pressure on her torso as possible. She let out a loud moan.

  “I’m sorry, love.”

  Knowing I hurt her was excruciating. Her head lolled. She was practically dead weight, exhausted from all her trials. But once I had her in my arms, while still being careful to not create any jarring movements, I was able to make much quicker progress.

  “I’ll run along and get the keys and pull the car up.” Deirdre disappeared.

  “Almost there, Bridey.”

  Chapter 10

  Killian

  We hadn’t made a plan, so I wasn’t sure which door Deirdre would be pulling up to. Getting between the bar and the back bar would be problematic, so going out the kitchen door seemed to be a bad choice. So, though it meant crossing a longer expanse, I judged the front door was our best bet. I was relieved to see headlights through the window and knew I guessed right. She was out and opening the door in a flash.

  “Can ya drive, Killian? I’m shaking so, I think I’d wreck us all if I was to.”

  “Aye.” Again, we strategized over the best way to get her into the car, in the end having Deir’ get in the seat, at an angle in the corner, then laying Bridey as gently as possible so she was in Deir’s arms, leaning on her. She seemed to breathe easier when she was upright. We called for an ambulance, planning to meet them somewhere along the way. I drove as fast as I dared along the one-lane road, lined with stone walls, while still trying to minimize the bumpiness. This was made more difficult by the fact there were few lights, and it was hard to watch for potholes in the pitch.

  For the most part, Bridey was only semi-conscious, but at one point she spoke. “Deir’?”

  “Yes, honey. I’m right here. I’ve got ya.”

  “I’m scared.” Her voice pitched.

  It took a second for Deirdre to respond. “Oh, I know, lamb. But everything is going to be fine. Killian’s got us almost there.”

  It was far from the truth. But we had made it to the two-lane road. I was relieved when I saw the swirling lights of the ambulance, but as I peered into the black, I realized the driver and medic were out on the road trying to repair a flat. I guess they hit one of those potholes.

  “Shite!”

  “What?” Deirdre looked out the window as we whizzed past them. Our gaze connected in the mirror. We were on our own. I managed to miss most of the bigger potholes, but at one point, near Kinsale, itself, as I was searching them out, I made out the shape of something big ahead. I stared, trying to determine what I was seeing and realized it was a cow. I honked but needed to slow so quickly Deir’ had a hard time hanging onto Bridey. And something in the movement caused problems anyway because her breathing became extremely labored again.

  “Bridey? Bridey, listen dear? Bridey!” Deirdre’s voice became more panicked. “She’s not responding anymore, Killian. Ya have to hurry.”

  I bit back my smart-assed reply to that and concentrated on the road.

  “We’re getting close,” Deir’ called out. “Take the next left. It’s near the top of that rise.”

  As much as I came to despise hospitals, I was never so glad to see a building in my entire life. I pulled into the emergency entrance and threw Paddy’s car into park. Hopping out, I screamed, “Help us! We need help!” I yanked the rear door open, nearly sending Deir’ to the pavement in my haste. We worked Bridey into my arms, and I stormed up to the door. Her skin was like ice. I barged into the waiting room and scared a half-dozen people by yelling, “She needs medical attention!” My
muscles ached from holding her, but I didn’t want to jostle her by adjusting the weight. Finally, a stretcher came rolling up with four attendants. I laid my precious cargo on it and moved away as they swarmed her, shouting out words and numbers that made no sense to anyone outside of the medical profession. What I did understand, though, was the urgency in their actions. One in a lab coat turned to me. “How did she receive these injuries?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Does she have a history of seizures?”

  “No. Not that I know of.”

  “No,” Deirdre, who came in seconds before, answered more definitively.

  The doctor switched his focus to her. “How long has she been unconscious?”

  We looked at each other. “Five, ten minutes?” she guessed. I nodded.

  “Any history of drug use?”

  We walked along with him as they wheeled her away.

  “No. No. Nothing like that. She’s a good girl.” She started to cry.

  I peered at him. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “Your friend has some very serious injuries. We won't know more until we thoroughly examine her.” He put a hand on Deir’s shoulder. “We will do everything we can to help her.” And with that, he was gone. A floppy swinging door closed behind him. Deirdre and I stepped over to try to peer through the window. It was a small opening, and so many people were in between, but we would occasionally get glimpses of Bridey. She didn’t seem good. The gray hue she initially had gained more of a blue tint. They were hooking up things to her, putting a needle in her arm, and wiping away blood from her head wound to get a better look, all at the same time. Once, when the crowd parted, I could see they were putting a tube down her throat.

  That can’t be good.

  I tried to make sense of the numbers on the monitors. I was unfortunately way too accustomed to them. Her heartrate was high, her blood pressure low, and…could that really be her oxygen saturation level?

  They were putting the bedrails up. We were forced to stand back as people exited, wheeling Bridey out in a rush. The doctor almost went past without noticing us, but at the last minute he said over his shoulder, “She’s going into emergency surgery. Her lung is collapsed. I can tell ya more later.” Within seconds they were all gone, and the quiet, and the lack of activity around us contrasted sharply with what we’d been experiencing for the last…could it really only be an hour? It seemed to last an eternity. I glanced in the room they vacated. Bloody strips of gauze were littered everywhere, along with other medical crap.

  Now all we could do was wait. I hated that.

  Deirdre covered her face with her hands and lost it. We’d needed to keep it together for Bridey, but now there was no need. I silently embraced her, standing in the middle of the hallway.

  Her head buried in my chest, her voice sounded like it was coming from a tunnel. “How could someone do that to her?” She kept repeating that and sobbing. When she quieted some, I steered her toward a couch.

  “Come on. Let’s go sit down.”

  I kept an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into me until a nurse came with some paperwork. I had trouble writing the information out because I kept second guessing everything we did. Should we have at least stopped and let one of the medics into the car? But what good would he be without his equipment, and we would have lost time. Should I have moved her when we arrived? There were so many questions. The only thing I knew for sure is after all was said and done, I wanted to take some first aid courses so I would never feel so helpless again.

  Twenty minutes later, two uniformed policemen entered and went to the nurses’ station. I could tell by the way the nurse was gesturing they were here about Bridey. Undoubtedly they were contacted by the hospital. I guess it’s something we should have done, but worry crowded it from our minds.

  “Deir’ the guards are here.” She appeared confused, but, still clutching a tissue, she straightened. I stood as they approached.

  “You the family of Bridget Flatery?”

  Deir’ glanced at me. “Uhh…aye, she’s ours, but not blood-related.”

  They exchanged a look, hesitating.

  “She has no family.”

  “I see,” the first man said and plucked a tablet out of somewhere with a pen clipped to it. “But ya brought her in, right?”

  “Aye.” She swiped at her nose. “They didn’t tell you how she was doing, did they?”

  “No, miss.” He glanced around. “Would ya like a bit more privacy?”

  She, too, had a gander at the room. A half-dozen people were strewn about acting like they weren’t listening to our conversation. “I don’t suppose it matters much.”

  The three of us had a seat while the other officer remained standing in front of the arm of the couch, his hands at his waist. We filled them in on what little we knew. When we’d finished—Deirdre breaking down a few times, the poor dear—he read his notes.

  “So, before Mrs. Flatery showed up at Murphey’s, you say you walked her home and ya heard a noise.”

  “Aye. And Bridget told me it was her furnace.”

  The guards again exchanged some kind of silent communication. “They were probably waiting inside for her.”

  Although I’d come to that conclusion a while ago, my stomach tightened at hearing it. They were inside, ready to hurt her, and I was a door-width away.

  Why didn’t I check the house? It would have only taken a moment.

  “And she wasn’t acting strangely? Didn’t show any signs of anxiety throughout the day?”

  We shook our heads. “She was acting normal.” I looked from one to the other as he closed his tablet and stood. “Do you think you’ll find out who did this to her?”

  The one that had been talking all along exhaled. “Well, Mr. Murphey, to be honest, we don’t have much to go on as yet. But we’ll check out the scene and talk to the victim when she’s awake. Who knows?” I stood to shake their hands. “We’ll do our best.”

  “Thank you, Officers.”

  When they left, we were again surrounded by the empty void of waiting. I paced, sat, stood, paced some more. “It’s been two hours. Wouldn’t ya think they’d have some news by now?” We stared at the nurses’ station.

  “Ya’d think it.”

  I debated and marched over to question them.

  “Well, do ya have any idea how much longer they’ll be at it, then?”

  “There’s no way of knowing in cases such as this. The surgeons could have discovered some internal bleeding…they don’t know what they’ll find.”

  “Aye,” I said dejectedly and returned to our couch.

  Two and a half hours later, Deirdre’s phone rang, scaring the living shite out of me. She scrambled to answer it as everyone in the waiting room was looking at her. “I’ll be right back,” she whispered to me after saying hello, and she walked to an isolated corner of the room to take her call.

  She reappeared quickly. “It’s Paddy. He’s in a state over this. Wants us to come pick him up so he can wait with us.”

  That was almost an hour I’d be away from her. I was about to refuse, but we had the man’s car, and I didn’t want Deirdre to drive after having been up half the night. “I’ll go.”

  “Oh, thank you, Killian.” Tears swarmed again. “I need him here.”

  “All right.” I patted both of her shoulders. “Ya’ll have him then.”

  She threw her arms around me, then wouldn’t let go. “I don’t want ya to leave,” she murmured.

  “Well, can’t Paddy get a ride or….”

  She relaxed her grip on me and leaned her upper body away a bit, shaking her head. “It’s too early. No one’s about yet, and he wouldn’t hear of waiting.” She sniffed and brushed at my coat, which was kind of funny because it was covered with blood. A speck of lint certainly wasn’t going to ruin it. “I’m being silly. I’ll be fine,” she said brightly, acting strong. “Just bring him here, Killian,” she added, a tear trickling out and betray
ing her.

  I wiped at her tear. “Are ya certain?”

  She nodded rapidly.

  I was torn, but the sooner I left, the sooner I’d get back. “And ya’ll take care of our girl?” I said, this time being the one to choke up.

  “Aye.” She looked me in the eye. “She’s going to be fine, Killian.”

  “I certainly hope so.” I gave her one last squeeze and left.

  The car ride—though some would declare it harrowing—actually did me some good. Doing something—anything—was better than waiting to possibly receive some bad news.

  But she’s fine. If she weren’t, they would have come out and told us by now. She’s a fighter. Like my Jo.

  It may have been helpful telling myself that if I didn’t know Jo lost her fight.

  As I was about to pass Bridey’s, I pulled over. A police car was parked in front. Not even knowing why I was doing it, I got out of the car and stole to her window. What I saw sickened me. Pools, splatters, and smears of blood were everywhere. It literally looked like someone had slaughtered a pig in there. A long trail led to the bed, and blood soaked the end of it. They approached the door and I turned to sneak off, but as I did, I saw it. A section of pipe about eighteen inches long lay on the floor, stained red. I went off my nut.

  A lead pipe? They hit her with a friggin’ lead pipe?

  I was so distraught, I forgot to skedaddle.

  “Mr. Murphey,” the officer said when he opened the door. “What are you doing here?”

  Shaken, I answered honestly. “I don’t know. I was driving by and….” I didn’t complete my sentence, frozen by the thought of what Bridey’s attacker did.

  The officers exchanged a look. “Mrs. Flatery isn’t awake, is she?” the one who always talked asked. I’d come to the conclusion the other one was a deaf mute. “Mr. Murphey?”

  I focused. “Nay. She was still in surgery the last I knew. I came to fetch my uncle.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Here?”

  I knew they were considering me. I was the last one to see her and showing up at the crime scene seemed suspicious as hell. But for some reason, it irked me. “No. At Murphey’s.”