The Departed

Inside the garage. The closed garage.
    A moan lodged in her throat as she peered through the filmy curtain and stared inside. She was pretty sure she could see Beau in there, inside the car. Unmoving.
    Tiffany’s dad tinkered with cars. He liked them. A lot. Once upon a time, Tiffany had even worked with him on some of the cars he’d bought to restore and sell. Older cars, they didn’t have that nifty exhaust system that eliminated most of the carbon monoxide. Plus, she knew that even newer cars could eventually put off enough of the noxious gas to kill a person—it had happened in California back around Christmastime a year or two earlier.
    He was sitting in there, in that silent, deadly poison. Swallowing, she slipped her bag off her shoulder and then checked the ground. There were flowerbeds and she’d have to trample the flowers. But if she could bust through wood at karate class, she could break glass, right?
    She did a practice kick first, felt the glass give a little under the heavy, weighted toe of her boot. Damn, she was glad those things went almost all the way to her knees. Then she whispered, “This is something you’d do, Tristan. Asshole or not.” Gritting her teeth, she set her stance and then struck, driving into the window with all the force she had.
    Glass shattered.
    She used her bag to knock as much of it out of the way as she could before she climbed in. Pulling the neck of her shirt up over her mouth, refusing to breathe, she ran to the door and hit the button to lift the garage door. As it started to lift, she saw the lights pull into the drive.
    She wanted to cry in relief. But she could see Beau. And he wasn’t moving.
    * * *
     
    “IS he going to make it?” Dez asked quietly, gripping Tiffany’s hand. Her mother sat next to her, her face pale, dazed. But there was a glint of pride in her eyes as she stroked a hand down her daughter’s hair. Pride. Love.
    Taylor stood in the door, his face troubled. He glanced backward and then at her. “I don’t know. The carbon monoxide levels must have been pretty high. Any chance he has, it’s because he was rescued when he was.” He looked at Tiffany and gave her a rare smile. “Any chance he has is because of you, Miss Haler.”
    Tiffany fidgeted. “I shouldn’t have waited. I knew something was wrong,” she whispered. “But I was scared.”
    “You were scared, but you still did something,” Dez said. “That’s more than a lot of people would have done.”
    Her mother leaned over and hugged her. “You gave him a chance, at least, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” She sighed and added, “Proud enough that I’m not even going to ask you about sneaking out right now.”
    “But we’re going to ask,” her father said flatly. “Later.”
    The girl shot him a quick glance and then looked down. “Yes, sir.”
    “I need to speak with my boss, sweetheart.” Dez squeezed Tiffany’s hand again. “But I’ll come back by, make sure you’re okay. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
    Tiffany nodded. “Thank you for coming when I called,” she whispered.
    “Thank you for calling me.” Dez gave her a crooked grin and then stood up, her tired, aching body screaming in protest. She rubbed her gritty eyes and headed toward Taylor. She knew him too well not to hear everything he hadn’t said.
    “So. Two teenage boys in this hospital. Both of them worked at the hotel where Ivy was found. Coincidence?” She didn’t bother mentioning Tristan just yet. Falling into step next to him, she shoved her hands into her pockets.
    “I’m not much for coincidences. You?”
    “Nope. What in the hell is going on?”
    “That’s what we’re going to find out, I suppose.” He sighed and rubbed his neck. “Whether we’re here officially or not. Have you been to see Mark?”
    She shrugged. “I peeked in. The cop on his door is taking the job seriously. His mom said the seizures aren’t easing up.”
    “They probably won’t until the withdrawal wears off. Stressing his body too much.”
    Dez sighed. “That poor kid.”
    Taylor just grunted.
    “We going anywhere in particular?” She glanced at him, walking along at his side and wondering why.
    “Yeah.” He slid her a narrow look. “To figure out what in the hell is going on, since you keep getting dragged into this.”
    “Well. You could just leave me to swing. But you insisted I sign that damn contract. So…what’s up?”
    “That damn contract is keeping your