Page 109 of The Burning

Blinking back tears, I lean into him, set my head against his chest. “Tomasetti, I thought you were—”

“I’m not.” He puts his uninjured arm around me and pulls me close. “I’m right here. With you. And I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Promise me, damn it.”

“Promise.” Mustering a smile, he raises his hand, sets the backs of his fingers against my cheek. “You can take that to the bank, Chief.”

“Deal,” I say.

And he presses a kiss to my forehead.

CHAPTER 29

My relationship with God is complicated. That’s not to say it isn’t good; it is. I’ve had thousands of conversations with Him. Times when I’ve been angry or hurt or hopeless or some combination thereof; other times when I was overcome with joy and thankful for His blessings. But I’ve also cursed Him. I’ve begged Him. And I’ve questioned my faith. I’ve asked Him for help more times that I can count. Times when I probably didn’t deserve it. I’ve asked Him to watch over my loved ones. I’ve asked Him to keep me safe when I found myself in a dicey situation. In all the years I’ve been talking to God, I’ve never been as desperate as those harrowing minutes when I didn’t know if Tomasetti was alive or dead.

Under normal circumstances, John Tomasetti would have refused an ambulance ride to the hospital. By the time Emergency Services rolled into the Sugarcreek Sand and Gravel parking lot, I was in the early stages of hypothermia and in no condition to drive. Suffering with a compound fracture of his forearm, Tomasetti was in no condition to argue. The deputy who arrived on scene first took statements from both of us and then loaded us into the wagon and sent us on our way.

Upon our arrival at Pomerene Hospital, Tomasetti was immediately placed on a gurney and taken to the ER. I was given hot tea, dry clothing—a set of scrubs—and a thermal blanket, and I made my way to the restroom to change. I placed my sopped uniform and underthings in the plastic bag I was given, and put my muddy boots back on. When I was dressed, I lowered my face into my hands and I sobbed. At some point, a kind-eyed woman in a pink sweatshirt came in and murmured a few words of comfort. That small kindness was all I needed to pull myself together.

I find Tomasetti in the ER, encircled by a privacy curtain, and lying on a gurney. He’s changed into a gown. A blanket has been placed over his hips. The lopsided smile tells me they gave him something for pain.

I go to him, set my hand on his shoulder. “You look nice in that gown.”

“That’s what the doc said.” He shrugs. “I wanted to go commando, but she nixed the idea right off the bat.”

“Uh-huh.” I nod. “What did they give you?”

“Morphine.”

His injured arm is elevated on a pillow, loosely wrapped, and supported with a temporary splint. “What’s the verdict?”

“I told her I was a happily married man. She wasn’t happy about it, but there you have it.”

I can’t help it; I laugh, and I feel another layer of stress fall away. I pretend-flick his arm. “I mean, about your arm.”

“Oh. That.” He indicates the splint with his uninjured hand. “X-ray shows the ulna is broken. Clean break, but it was a compound fracture. Ortho doc is talking about putting in a pin.”

“So you need surgery?”

“Probably going to need another morphine, too. Hurts like a son of a bitch.”

Taking in the heavy lids, I’m thinking he may not be the best source of information at this moment and I make a mental note to double-check with the doc.

“Chief?”

I glance toward the curtain to see Glock peek in. “Everyone decent?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. “Come on in.”

He enters, nods at Tomasetti. “Heard what happened.” He whistles. “Sounds like things got pretty gnarly. Glad you two are okay.”

“Thanks,” I say.

When Tomasetti and I left the scene a couple of hours ago, the Tuscarawas County sheriff’s deputies hadn’t been there long. The situation was hectic and fluid. Both Tomasetti and I answered questions and gave reports on what had transpired. There will be more questions to answer in the coming days.

“What’s going on at the scene?” I ask.

“Skid and I went as soon as we heard it come over the radio,” Glock tells us. “Heavy-equipment driver is deceased. Coroner had just arrived. A lot of law enforcement on scene. BCI crime scene van is there now.”