Ties That Bind by Natalie R. Collins Page B

Whatever is left, send the bill to me, but please. Please let’s get her checked out.”
    “Sam…”
    “Dad. This has gone on long enough. Please, do this for me. If they say there is nothing they can do, then I will never ask again. Just do this one thing. Please. For me.”
    This time the tears welled up in her father’s eyes, and she saw the years of frustration, fear, and, even worse, desperation painted across his face. But she knew that now was the time to stand firm. She was an adult now, a police officer, trained to deal with crisis and conflict. No more little Sam, the one who lost her way when Callie died.
    “Dad, it’s time to get help. It’s time to admit you can’t do this anymore. It’s time. It’s just … It’s just time.”
    Sam knew she was repeating herself, but she couldn’t think of any other way to phrase it.
    “Fine,” her father said, reaching up quickly to wipe away a stray tear that had begun to course down his weathered cheek. “Fine, just call the paramedics. And when you get the bill, you just remember that I said no, this was not necessary. And it’s not going to help. It’s time you grew to love your mother for what she is, instead of trying to fix her.”
    He turned and walked away, his shoulders hunched, his back curved, his pace shuffling and almost bearlike. He had become old in the past few years, older than his seventy-five years even.
    Grief aged people. Sam should know. Today, she felt like she was 102.
    “Call the bus,” she said to Olsen. Then she knelt down and stroked her mother’s arm, even though there was no response from the prone woman. “It’s going to be okay, Momma. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but I promise, it’s going to be fine.”
    There was no response. No reaction. Just like it had been for so many years, except now Sam felt a quickening of her heart. Something was different here. The phone call. And her mother had moved her head, abruptly and roughly. Ruthie Montgomery had reacted. Sam had seen it.
    Could they find Ruthie again, lost as she was in the maelstrom of grief and loss? Sam was damn sure going to try.

 
    FIFTEEN
    Late August, nearly every day dawned hot and dry in northern Utah. Usually, the sunshine picked up Sam’s mood, but not after the events of the evening before.
    It was lunchtime, and as usual, D-Ray was holding court.
    “Gage is a pansy-ass name,” D-Ray said to Sam, speaking around the McDonald’s fries he was shoveling into his mouth.
    The “pansy ass” D-Ray referred to had been sitting outside Sam’s house this morning, leaning against her department car. Again. Holding two coffee cups from the local Starbucks.
    “Don’t you ever give up?” she’d asked tersely.
    “No. It’s why I am so good at what I do.”
    “Fine. I’ll take the coffee.” Sam reached out and accepted the cup, then asked him to move out of her way.
    “Sam, when are you going to talk to me?”
    “How about at two? In the conference room at the station. We’ll have a powwow. Sound good?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She got into her car, he stepped away from it, and she drove off.
    And now she was ready to beat someone to death.
    As she sat with D-Ray in the unmarked cruiser in the McDonald’s parking lot, he seemed a likely target. Sam sipped at a Diet Coke while D-Ray polished off more food than a human being should ever consume in one meal. She was tired and cranky. The previous night’s events had set her mind to racing, especially after she and her father had left the hospital. Her mother had been admitted into the psych ward of McKay-Dee Hospital for testing.
    Sam’s father had spoken little as they drove together to the hospital behind the ambulance. He gave only yes or no answers when the medical staff asked him questions, and the look on his face was one of resentment and anger.
    Then Sam had driven him back home. He sat silent and brooding in the seat next to her, staring out the window into the darkness. His