NEON LIGHTS BLARED down at me and the smell of antiseptic and sickness clung to everything. My head throbbed when I opened my eyes, unsure of where I was or what had happened. "Bridgette. Is she okay?"
A man came into view, his bow tie undone and white dress shirtsleeves rolled up. His right hand was bandaged, but he didn't seem to notice. "Catelyn, you've rejoined the living."
My vision cleared as Ash bent over me, but I remembered how he'd looked the last time I'd seen him. The rage and hate on his face. The uncontrolled fury. I pulled away from him. "Where's Bridgette?"
He stood and sat down in the chair by my bed, disappointment in his sigh. "She's got her own hospital room, but she's going to be fine. They found GHB in her system. Bradley slipped it into her champagne when she refused him."
"Oh God, did he—"
"No, there were no signs that she'd been raped. We got there in time."
I rubbed my head and felt a lump forming. My knuckles ached from when I hit Bradley. "What happened to me?"
"The doctor said you went into shock and passed out. You hit your head on the concrete floor going down."
My eyes fell to his bandaged hand, and I winced. He noticed and covered his hand with the other. "I'm sorry I scared you."
I didn't know what to say. He had scared me. He still scared me. And I couldn't be with someone who had such little control over his temper. Something about the way he beat that man felt too… too much like the night my father was beaten to death. "My father… "
"I know. The Detective told me. I can't imagine what you must have gone through. What you're still going through. But Cateyn, I want to help."
He put his hand on mine, but I yanked away without thinking.
"I can't. I'm not ready."
"I can wait," he said.
"No. Don't. I don't want you to. It would never work between us. I'm sorry, Ash. Please leave. I just need some time alone."
He stood and draped his jacket over his arm, staring at me with an inscrutable look on his face. When I didn't say anything, he shook his head and walked away.
Detective Gray shuffled in, holding a notebook and pen. "How are you?"
I clutched my neck. "In pain."
"Then let's get these questions over with."
I told him about the call.
Detective Gray took notes. "The Midnight Murderer must have provided Bradley with the date rape drug. That's what he meant by helping out a friend."
"Bridgette told me they'd already slept together. Why would he—"
"Maybe he has a rape fantasy. Maybe the Midnight Murderer just wanted to hurt you."
I flexed my bruised fist. "Right."
"You said he likely had a partner. You were right."
"What will you do with Bradley?"
"If he wakes up—"
"If?" I leaned up in bed, though it felt like pounding nails into my skull.
"He's still passed out. After the beating…" He stopped himself. "After the self-defense Ash gave him, the doctors fear Bradley might slip into a coma."
"They better make sure he wakes up. He knows who killed my parents."
"Don't worry, Miss Travis. He'll wake up. We'll get the answers out of him."
I sighed. "Thank you."
"One more thing. The killer was at the party. He saw your dress, knew Bradley had started his plan. Did you see anyone—"
"Wearing a ski-mask and dressed in black?" I laughed, and then my laugh turned to anger. "How the fuck am I supposed to know what he looks like? How the fuck am I supposed to keep him from hurting my friends? From threatening to… " I clutched at the sheets, my pain replaced with rage, my breath heavy.
Machines started to beep around me, and a worried nurse scuttled in the room. "You need to leave now," she told the detective.
"Sure," he said, getting up.
"Wait," I whispered, my voice tired. "Wait. You came down with the Beaumonts and Mr. Davenport. How'd you get there so quickly?"
He raised his eyebrows, as if sharing the obvious. "I was at the party."
Then I raised mine, unable to remember him.
He continued. "The Beaumonts invited me. I hoped we were becoming friends, but now I think they just wanted to pick my brain about your case."
"What did they want to know?"
"Everything." With a push from the nurse, he turned and left.
Bridgette and I were kept for a night of observation and released the next day, both of us shell-shocked and quiet as her parents drove us home. When we walked to the front door, Bridgette burst into tears. "I'm sorry I ruined your party."
Her mother hugged her and stroked her hair—a gesture so mother-like it made my heart hurt. "Darling, there's nothing to be sorry about. We should have noticed something was wrong. I'm just glad Catelyn got to you in time."
Bridgette and I spent the afternoon watching old movies and not talking about what happened. That night I started back at my 'acting' job. Break would be over soon and I'd need the money for my share of housing and spring tuition.