“What the hell?” Rushing over to Trudy, I fumbled in my purse to grab my phone. I needed to call 911.
“Oh my God. Please, please be alive,” I murmured as I knelt down and felt Trudy’s neck for a pulse. Her skin was warm. I almost fainted with relief when I felt her strong pulse.
The floorboard creaked behind me, and I started to turn around to check on Amelia. But before I could get a glimpse of her, something hard and heavy slammed into the side of my head. All I saw was a quick flash of light before everything turned black.
Chapter Twelve
“There’s my girl,” Derek murmured, his sexy English accent drawing me back to Earth when I wanted to drift off to never-never land. He stroked my cheek and brushed my hair with his fingers. “Come on, love. Stay with me.”
“Uhhh.” I was seeing three of him, not that I minded. Derek did have the most gorgeous face I’d ever seen on a man. But oh, my head. I tried to reach up to find out why my skull was throbbing as though ten sledgehammers were slamming against it, but he grabbed my hand.
“No, darling,” Derek whispered, giving my hand a kiss and a soft, comforting squeeze. “Let the paramedics do their job first.”
“Para . . .” I closed my eyes and pictured Trudy lying in a pool of blood. What happened after that? My hands were folded across my stomach, and I wondered why they felt so damp. Were they covered in blood? I sucked in several great gulps of air to fight back the sickness that thought brought. My eyes fluttered open, and I wondered why firemen were walking inside Trudy’s house.
“Trudy?” I uttered.
“Trudy will be fine.”
“Firemen.”
“Yes,” he said. “They arrived with the EMTs.”
I held up my hand and struggled to say the word. “Blood?”
“No, love. There’s no blood on your hands.”
I inhaled and exhaled slowly. Okay then, I thought, as memories of what I’d found on entering Trudy’s house began swarming through my mind. Professionals were here, taking care of things. Even better, Derek was here. And best of all, I was still breathing and, apparently, so was Trudy. The bad news? “Head hurts.”
“I know, love.”
“Blood?” I guess I was a little obsessed.
Derek’s dark eyes narrowed with concern. “Yes, a bit.”
I gulped and tried to breathe. I could barely tolerate the sight of someone else’s blood. I had even fainted a few times in the past, so I squeezed my eyes shut to concentrate on staying awake and conscious—and not thinking about blood. Mine or Trudy’s.
When I opened my eyes again, Derek was watching me intently, but then looked away to scan the room. He gave someone a curt nod and turned back to me. “The tech will be over here in just a minute.”
I could tell he was angry. Something was very wrong, but since Trudy was all right, his anger was probably due to my being hurt. Unless . . .
“Gunshot,” I murmured, recalling the last sound I had heard before passing out.
“Yes,” he said, through clenched teeth.
I tried to sit up. “Someone shot Trudy?”
He slipped his arms around me and eased me back to the floor. “Stay where you are until the techs are free.”
“Someone shot . . . me?”
He touched my cheek again. “No, thank God.”
I tried to think, tried to squeeze my eyes shut, but it hurt my head too much, so I watched his face. “Did Amelia shoot Trudy?”
“No, love,” he said gently. “Just rest for a moment. We can talk about it later.”
Amelia didn’t shoot Trudy. Okay, good. But now I remembered what I’d seen when I first walked into the house. Trudy, bleeding on the floor by the fireplace. Amelia, sprawled across the chair. I met Derek’s gaze directly. “Amelia?”
His jaw tightened, and he swiped his hand across his mouth in helpless fury.
“Amelia?” I was confused. Neither Trudy nor I had been shot. That left Amelia. But why would someone shoot her?
I must’ve gotten hit harder than I thought, because I couldn’t connect any dots. So I stopped trying and slipped back into dreamland.
*
When I woke up, I was strapped to a gurney and Derek was gone. I could barely move my head and became anxious, but relaxed a little when I was able to spot Derek standing a few feet away, near Trudy’s kitchen door, talking quietly to Gabriel and Robson.
I was glad to see Gabriel here, but Robson shouldn’t be here. There was too much blood.
No, no. I was the one who got sick over blood. Not Robson. Trudy was his cousin, his only living relative. Somebody shot her, so of course Robson had to be here.
Wait. Did somebody shoot Trudy or did they shoot Amelia? I couldn’t remember. Did they shoot me? My head was throbbing as if two jackhammers were trying to drill through my skull. Was it from a bullet? I couldn’t remember what Derek had told me.