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I stared into the officer’s eyes, thinking about him or anyone praying for Stevie and me. Because of this nightmare, I was back at square one with my trust and faith in God, but I thanked the officer for his kindness anyway.
“Investigators will be up here later. They’re gonna want to talk to your girlfriend about everything,” he went on to tell me.
“Okay.”
“I also wanted to let you know that Mr. Ferguson did not survive his injuries.”
“Good.”
The police officer nodded in agreement with me. “Take care, Mr. Buchanan.”
We shook hands, and as soon as he and the other officers left, Brooke asked me about contacting Stevie’s father to let him know what happened.
“I hope Stevie’s phone is in here because that’s the only way I know how to contact him,” I said, looking inside her purse. I saw her phone and grabbed it. Then I looked up at Brooke.
“I’ll do it,” she said, holding out her hand for me to give her Stevie’s phone, as well as her purse and briefcase.
She knew me so well—like a mother. Like my mother. I didn’t have to say a word because she already knew what I was thinking and it was that it would be best if Brooke contacted Mr. Sinclair instead of me.
As she was walking outside to make that phone call, I turned around and walked down the hallway to call my parents to let them know what happened and where Stevie and I were. Of course they were shocked and saddened when I told them but so grateful that Stevie had survived the ordeal. My mom told me not to worry about Malcolm and also to let her know if there was anything that she or my dad could do to help Stevie in any way.
Brooke and I met back in the waiting area and she told me that Mr. Sinclair was on his way to Dallas. She also said, “After I found his number on Stevie’s phone, I called him from mine so I will be his go-to in all of this.”
“Okay. I wonder how soon he’s gonna get here.”
“Three or four hours, depending on the traffic.”
“I’m gonna wait here for him to arrive. As a matter of fact, I’m not leaving this hospital. I know they’re keeping Stevie overnight and I’m gonna be right beside her.”
“So am I.”
“And so am I,” Bash then said, walking up to Brooke and me. “We’re Stevie’s family here.”
And he was right. We were.
Brooke told Jason, Ellie, David and Jennifer that they could all go home and she’d keep them posted about Stevie. It wasn’t long after they left that a doctor walked up and asked which one of us was Zac Buchanan.
“I am,” I said.
“Ms. Sinclair is awake now and she’s doing well. She also wants to see you.”
“Please take me to her.”
“Can we see her too? I’m her mother and this is her brother, Bash,” Brooke told the doctor.
“Ms. Murphy—district attorney of Dallas—I know better than that but yes, you can see Ms. Sinclair too. Youandher brother.”
When we walked into Stevie’s room, she was sitting up in her hospital bed, alert and looking strong as ever. She smiled when she saw us and then covered her mouth because she had started crying. I walked straight to her, then leaned down and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and held her forehead against mine for a long moment, then looked over at Brooke and Bash.
“Please hold my hands,” she told them.
They moved closer to her and took her trembling hands into theirs while I continued standing beside Stevie and stroking her hair. Hospital personnel had cleaned Mr. Ferguson’s blood out of it and had also washed it off her face, neck and chest.
“All I know to say is thank you and I love all of you,” she choked out.
“We love you too,” Brooke said, and Bash nodded in agreement. He couldn’t talk because he was more choked up than Stevie.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked her.
