"Any update on the Reid case?"
Raylan, much to Tim's dismay, sat on the corner of Tim's desk. He even put forth the effort to move a few of Tim's files to make room.
Tim still felt a little uneasy about Raylan Givens, knowing how much trouble he has caused in the past several months of working in the Lexington office. Whenever a certain vein on Art's forehead popped out, Tim knew most of the time the Harlan-based marshal was the cause. He even joked about it to Art before, calling it the 'Raylan-vein,' in which he then received a lecture about being a smartass.
"Please, make yourself welcome. And it must be Christmas, with you taking a liking to my cases," Tim joked, leaning back in his chair.
"I'm feeling generous today," Raylan replied. Probably because you arrived here with a certain ex-wife. Tim knew to keep the comment to himself.
"Everything's fine. Reid's in the ground and the girlfriend is probably not looking so hot in that bright orange jumpsuit. I got a call from the hospital this morning, the baby girl is still there. Should be fine. Not sure though, coming from parents like that."
"She's not going to remember a lick of it. Besides, my father's a criminal, and look at me," Raylan said with a smirk.
"That's assuring. Luckily I think that little one already has more sense than you."
Raylan laughed at the young marshal's quick wit and took off his hat, resting it on his lap. Tim sighed, seeing he wasn't planning on ending the conversation so soon.
"Art told me the doctor who helped her was mighty pretty," Raylan said.
"Mhm," Tim replied, focusing on his computer screen.
"Is she the one that called you this morning?" Raylan fished for more information.
"Sorry, Raylan. She's a doctor and currently not a witness in any cases, so she's probably out of your league. Can I get back to work?" Tim sighed, and Raylan nodded and stood up from the desk, making his way back to his own.
Tara in fact was the one who called Tim that morning, giving him an update on Abigail. He was relieved, knowing she was still okay and now taking in the proper nutrients. The doctor sounded very passionate about her work, which he respected. Tim felt like he was in high school, hoping she would call him again.
"Who was that?" Dr. Harris asked Tara as she hung up the main desk's phone. She was Tara's favorite doctor at the hospital, always friendly, offering to buy coffee and making her transition easier; however, she's also always wanting to know what was going on in others' lives.
"The Deputy Marshal we saw last week. I was updating him on the patient," Tara quickly answered.
It was the truth, she called Tim to let him know how Abigail was doing. She thought in his line of work, he could use the good news. She asked him about the mother, who was looking at a long stretch in prison for a handful of crimes. Tara enjoyed hearing the marshal's voice again, appreciating the sigh of relief he gave knowing the baby girl was going to be okay.
"That's what I came over here for. A woman downstairs wants to speak to you about Abigail. She's claiming it's her granddaughter," The redheaded doctor's blue eyes widened, "She's causing a shit storm down there."
Tara took a deep breath and made her way to the elevator. Child Services had been very strict about Abigail's case, and hadn't given the hospital much detail about relatives. Her health was the main focus, and Tara wouldn't let anyone compromise that. In the elevator, she cleared her throat and smoothed out her white lab coat, remembering to stay professional.
"I'm Dr. Tara Knowles, you needed to speak to me?" Tara said as she walked up to the disgruntled woman. She wore a brown leather jacket and faded jeans, and stood with her hands on her hips. Tara was ready for her start shouting at any moment.
"You got my granddaughter up there, and I don't know nothing about what's going on! My son is dead, and I am being kept away from my Abigail?!" The woman was inches away from Tara's face. Her breath reeked of cigarettes and bourbon.
"Ma'am, I am not authorized to share any information on the patient. I can give you the number for Child Services and they can—" Before finishing her sentence, the woman punched the doctor, causing her to stumble back. Tara placed her left hand on the wounded cheek. She felt warm blood below her eye from where the one of the woman's gaudy silver rings must have cut her.
"You can't keep her from me, you bitch! I will have my grandbaby back!" Two security officers held her on the ground as she screamed and kicked.
"You're obviously drunk and just assaulted a doctor," Tara sharply replied, "Don't count on it."
"Marshal's office, Tim Gutterson,"
Tim answered the phone, resting it between his ear and shoulder as she shoved files back in one of the desk drawers.
"Tim, it's Tara," He immediately recognized the voice. By reflex, he was happy to hear her speak, but then quickly thought of the reasons why she called.
"Is everything okay? Did something happen to—"
"No, she's fine. Her grandmother came in today. She's David Reid's mother. She was drunk and angry, demanding to see her. She even clocked me in the face."
"She hit you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine though. It wasn't even her punch that fucked me up, but one of her rings. A few stitches and I'm back together again," Tim could almost hear her smile.
"That's precisely why I don't buy women jewelry," he said, hoping to hear her laugh at the comment. She did, and he did his best to keep himself from smiling, noticing Raylan eyeing him.
"I'm worried, though," Tara said once she caught her breath, "I don't want Abigail to end up with her. I don't think it could happen, but you never know."
"I don't think you need to worry, but I will keep up with her case and see what I can do if that worst case scenario plays out."
"Thank you, Tim," Tara gave a sigh of relief.
"You're welcome, doc. If you're free tonight, I'd like to get you a beer."
"So what made you want to become a doctor?" Tim asked as he set their second round of beers on the small, wooden table The bar was crowded for a Wednesday night, but they were able to find a tiny booth in the corner for themselves. Tim enjoyed the sight of her out of scrubs; Tara wore tight dark jeans that hugged every curve, and a black tank top. Her hair was down and straight.
Should've known someone who can pull of those mint pj's would look sexy in anything.
"I don't know, really. I wasn't one of those kids who carried a play doctor set around. It just came to me during college. I wanted to help people, especially kids. Then I decided to go into neo-natal and prenatal care. It's amazing what I do. I can help them, I can fix a tiny heart. I'm happy with it."
Tara took a swig of her beer, noticing Tim's attentive expression.
"What about you? What makes someone want join the army then become a marshal?"
"Oh, I just like to shoot things," Tim winked and flashed a smile. Tara laughed again, something he enjoyed listening to.
"That sure is more interesting than my story," Tara said.
"Not to toot my own horn, doc, but I'm an interesting guy."
Tara and Tim stayed comfortably silent for a few minutes, drinking their beers and giving each other glances. She was very attracted to him, and enjoyed getting to know the marshal.
"You know, you do have that mysterious vibe working for you," Tara said to break the silence, "I look forward to getting to know you, Deputy Marshal Gutterson."
Tim smiled, sliding himself closer to Tara.
"You know, even on my best days I don't look as good as you do with that massive shiner," Tim said, lightly placing his hand on her bruised cheek, careful not to touch the deep cut.
Before she could reply, a waitress came up to their booth and handed Tara a small, folded paper. Tim moved his hand back, clearing his throat.
"I was asked to give this to you," The blonde said, walking away before Tara could thank her or ask what it was. She opened the paper, and froze when reading the words.
'I'm in town for business, I swear. But I need to see you. I need to. –Josh'
Tara quickly crumpled up the paper.
Tim arched an eyebrow at her reaction, "What was it?"
Tara rolled her eyes and smiled, "Some asshole in the bar had a waitress slip his number to me, can you believe that? While I'm on such a nice date, too. Don't worry about it,"
Before Tim could question it, she downed the rest of her beer and handed him the empty bottle, "Mind getting us another round?"
"As you wish, my lady," Tim winked and made his way to the bar.
Tara took the moment to eye the room, seeing if he was still watching her and Tim.
Please don't do this to me. Please don't be here.