Under the Magnolia by Moira Rogers Page A

alive.
    It was her fault. She hit the ground
hard enough to knock the wind out of her, and the fact that her legs
were untied didn't matter. Rolling over was torture, rising to her
knees worse. Her limbs were numb enough that even crawling was a
challenge, but none of it mattered as she dragged her aching body to
Wes’ side.
    He was gasping for breath, barely
moving, and she collapsed to the ground next to him with a low sob
and struggled to lift her bound hands. "Wes…God, I'm so
sorry, I'm sorry—"
    She was peripherally aware of light
flooding the darkened woods and of shouts and activity, but all of
her attention was focused on Wes as he dragged in a breath and
exhaled on a ragged groan. "God damn ,
that hurts."
    Addie made a choked noise as she
fumbled at his chest, the lack of blood only now piercing her haze of
panic. She tugged at his shirt, heaving in a desperate breath.
"You're not… You're--"
    "Vest," he wheezed, even
as her frantic hands uncovered the black bulk of Kevlar. "I
thought I might need it."
    A man with brown hair and a brown
uniform approached and knelt next to them. "You're a crazy son
of a bitch, Saxon," he observed with a whistle. "What if
Guerrero had aimed for your thick head?"
    Wes choked out a laugh and sat up.
"I had it on good authority he wouldn't. Stan, this is Adelaide
Gardner. Addie, this is Stanford Shikoba, Florida Highway Patrol."
    He tipped his hat. "Ma'am. I
guess you belong to that lovely lady currently giving one of my best
troopers absolute heck."
    Addie vaguely noticed Wes’
gentle hands on her wrists, loosening the ropes that had cut into her
skin. She stared at Officer Shikoba blankly then looked to Wes. "You
brought my grandmother ?"
    "You come by that stubborn
streak honestly, baby," he murmured, rubbing at her wrists.
"That woman will not take no for an answer."
    She stared at him for so long that
he probably thought she'd lost her mind. And maybe she had, because
she slumped against his chest and dissolved into laughter edged with
hysteria. "Oh, God," she gasped out, then hiccupped.
"Please tell me she didn't—didn't bring the shotgun."
    Shikoba reached under his hat to
scratch his head. "She gonna be okay, Saxon?"
    Wes just pulled her into his arms.
"It's been a hell of a couple of days, Stan. I guess you need
statements?"
    The older man snorted. "To say
the very least. Let's get you two into a squad and make sure that
granny of hers hasn't snatched Leroy Miller bald."

Chapter Seven

    It took several hours to extract
them from the clutches of the Florida Highway Patrol. Addie was fed
and given dry clothing, related her version of events—vague
though it was—and promptly fell asleep with her head in
Granny's lap.
    Wes had to placate Stan Shikoba by
telling him that Howie had managed to triangulate a location from
Addie's cell phone, which Stu the brain trust had forgotten to turn
off. What Shikoba didn't need to know was that the phone had been
useless, since its battery had died before they'd even gotten off the
island that morning.
    There were a lot of unanswered
questions, but Shikoba just nodded, took notes, and happily accepted
the brief explanations Wes gave. Ernesto Guerrero, one of the
Southeast's leading exporters of psychics, had been caught red-handed
and apprehended without departmental injury, and that was going to
look very, very good in his personnel folder when review time rolled
around.
    Too many hours and too many cups of
coffee later, Wes was finally given leave to take his two exhausted
ladies home. He carried Addie, and Shikoba abandoned his
hunt-and-peck typing long enough to help Granny Gardner to the truck.
She gave him a winning smile and told him that the little redhead
down at the bank would be perfect for him.
    Shikoba was still scratching his
head when they drove away.
    The sun was high in the sky by the
time Wes dropped Granny off at his mother's and made a beeline for
his house. Once he had Addie safely stowed in his bed, he sat in