“Reece almost got you killed that night. If Ryan Whelan hadn’t been there, it would have been you in that grave.”
Gena rolled her eyes as if she’d heard the story a thousand times. “That was a long time ago, baby. You’re just pissed off because he broke your nose.”
Oleksa pinched the small knot at the bridge of his nose and took a long slow breath.
“I knew it.” I struggled to sit up. “You’re the lady cop. The one Ryan saved.”
Gena’s glossy smile was bittersweet. “Ryan was a good kid,” she said softly.
I looked at their clasped hands, Lonny’s story slowly coming back to me through the fog. He was only supposed to serve six for the drug charges, but rumor has it that the lady cop’s boyfriend came after him during the trial, and Reece got an extra three months for assaulting an officer. “And you’re the cop Reece assaulted? And the one who carried me out of the rave.” It was Oleksa who’d told the cops I was unconscious in the moments leading up to Kylie’s murder, persuading the judge not to grant the warrant.
“Like I said, he had it coming.” Oleksa’s face grew serious. “Whelan is dangerous. What happened last night doesn’t change anything.”
“What exactly did happen last night?” I touched the back of my head. “I remember TJ pulling the trigger, and then . . .” The hand on my ankle, the figure that leaped toward me, could only have been one person. “The nurse said Reece is okay?”
“Reece is fine.” Gena gave me a reassuring smile. “He was conscious enough to shove you out of the path of the bullet. He knocked you into the mausoleum steps and you hit your head pretty hard. You bled all over and scared him to death. He thought he’d killed you.”
“He wasn’t hurt?”
“He’ll have a pretty sexy scar in his right shoulder.” She winked. “But the exit wound was clean. No permanent damage. He’s already been discharged.”
Gena and Oleksa were quiet while I let that sink in. Reece had taken a bullet . . . for me. Gena had been right about him, though you wouldn’t know it from the look on Oleksa’s face. I hoped Reece’s sacrifice was enough to clear his record, and that the bullet he’d taken was enough to chase away the last of his demons.
Speaking of demons . . .
“And Lonny? He’s not in trouble, is he?” For all his ulterior motives, Lonny had been there when I needed him. I shuddered to think what might have happened if he’d shown up a minute later.
“Emily wanted to press charges against him for assault, but we handled it.” Gena snickered and cocked a hip. “And she had the nerve to ask for her five thousand dollars of bail money back, but she posted it under your name. There’s no way she can prove the money was hers without incriminating herself more than she already has.”
Oleksa chimed in. “We’re calling Lonny’s actions a citizen’s arrest. Emily and TJ are both in custody. No charges have been filed against Lonny, for now.”
“And it might help smooth over a few bumps on his record if he can stay out of trouble,” Gena added.
“Seriously unlikely,” Oleksa muttered.
Gena pointed to the chair where my mother had been sleeping. My backpack rested against it, a long-stemmed black rose balanced on top.
“Lonny came by to see you earlier, but you were still sleeping. He said you left your bag at the cemetery. He told me to tell you ‘it’s all there’—whatever that means—and that he’ll collect on the favor when you’re feeling better.” Gena lifted an eyebrow. She was good at passing silent messages. This one seemed to say: “Don’t go there, girlfriend.”
I suppressed a smile. I’d be lying if I said Lonny didn’t scare me anymore, but I’d come to realize that he wasn’t so blackand-white either.
“And Jeremy? He’s okay?”
Gena and Oleksa exchanged a quick glance and my heart squeezed.
Oleksa dipped into the pocket of his cargo pants and tossed a plastic pouch onto my lap. “Jeremy’s in the room next door. He asked me to bring you these.”
I didn’t register the Twinkies. Gena was first to speak. “A crisis counselor is with him now.”
“Crisis counselor?” I asked through dry lips. “Why does he need a crisis counselor?”
Gena opened her mouth, then shut it again. Oleksa gave her hand a quick squeeze, answering for her. “During our investigation, Lonny informed us that Jeremy bought a fairly large bag of ketamine. Obviously, he never intended to hurt anyone else, but . . . ” Oleksa faltered. “We’re concerned he may have intended to harm himself.”
I dropped my head back against the pillow. Shut my eyes. Listened to the beep of the monitors as the IV feed shot me with another dose, grateful for the woozy blur that smoothed away the worst of the pain. Of all the answered questions, this one tore the largest hole in my heart.
Gena and Oleksa turned to go.
“Get some rest,” he said. “Someone from Nicholson’s office will be coming soon to take your statement.”