My fingers drum against the hospital coffee machine as it spits premade vanilla-flavored coffee at an achingly slow pace. Impatient, I scoop the small paper cup out before it’s done. “Ow, shit!” I wipe the scalding liquid on my jeans and head back to my seat, blowing to cool it before taking a sip.
After getting home last night, I fell into a restless sleep. My body ached in places that only served to remind me of Lucas. My heart clenches at what he must be thinking, that as amazing as he is, how tender he treated me when we made love, that he’d be capable on any level of the kind of violence that put Sam in the hospital. I tried to convince him but he’s been trained to think the worst of himself. I push back thoughts of Gage and his unpredictability. He may have killed his mother, but is he capable of hurting an innocent woman? He has more incentive to go after me, and although he’s had plenty of opportunities, I’m alive and well.
I drop down into a plastic chair, my mind swirling with doubt. I try again to push the thoughts far back into the recesses of my mind. I trust Lucas as much as I’ve ever trusted anyone, and Gage, no matter how threatening, is part of him. I’ll never buy into his own guilt.
My fingers drum against the armrest while I try to relax and sip my coffee. People filter in and out of the waiting room. Some are mournful while others embrace each other with hugs and happy tears.
The small television in the corner plays the Phoenix news and I watch for lack of anything better to do while I wait for the nurses to update me on Sam. Rather than follow the captions on the muted TV, I critique the anchor’s choice to wear red, the station’s use of a graphic to tell a story that a video would tell better, and the overly serious expression of one reporter while discussing gas prices. Commercials for toilet paper, laundry detergent, and a local Phoenix law firm that specializes in divorce, and then back to the news where a familiar image takes up the screen.
I sit up taller just as a person across the lobby says, “It’s Payson.”
Main Street lights up the screen, along with a woman in a bright yellow tailored dress and perfectly coiffed red hair that doesn’t move an inch in the wind.
The subtitles tick across the bottom.
“. . . local police believe the assailant is still on the loose but locals are gripped with fear and the question, could this be another hit from the Shadow?” A video plays, still images of the outside of Sam’s house, a drop of blood on her front steps highlighted by a crime scene number flag, and neighbors confirming that they didn’t see anything. “Police encourage anyone with information about this assault to come forward.” The story goes on to talk about the violent nature of the crime and compares it to the eight other assaults attributed to the Shadow. When the thirty-second time block is filled, they move on to talking about this year’s football season.
I slide back into my seat, shock only intensifying my worry. Poor Sam. My chest cramps violently at the memory of the last time the Shadow hit and a woman lost her life, leaving her daughter motherless. Is it possible this sadist made his way to Payson? A shiver slides up my spine, and I rub my arms to fight back the chill. If only Sam would wake up and tell police what she knows, they could finally put an end to this.
My knee jumps in a furious rhythm.
Wake up, Sam . . . Wake up. A warm hand hits my shoulder and my body jerks.
“Whoa, sorry.” Dustin comes around to take the seat beside me. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Not your fault.” I hold up my almost drained cup. “Too much caffeine and impatience.”
He grunts and it’s then I notice the deep circles under his eyes and his unshaven face.
“You just get here?”
“No, I was in my truck trying to catch a quick nap. Been here all night.”
“Any word on how she’s doing?”
“Her family let me sit with her for a bit. Think they felt sorry for me.” He rubs his eyes. “God, Shy . . . she’s so messed up. Eyes swollen shut, lips split to hell, most of her skin that I could see was bruised.”
My heart hurts for what she’s gone through. “Phoenix news just covered it. They’re claiming it might be the Shadow. Won’t be long before this entire town is swarming with reporters.” I down the last of my coffee and crush the cup.
“The Shadow . . . wait, they haven’t caught that guy yet?” His gaze darts to the window that leads to the parking lot, then back to me.
“No, unfortunately they haven’t. It doesn’t make sense. Payson is a blip on the Arizona map. Why here? I don’t buy that it was him.”
He nods and leans forward, putting his head in his hands. “This is all so fucked up.”
I give in to my bleeding heart and pat him awkwardly on the back. “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
He turns his head toward me, his expression soft with . . . something. “You’d do that for me?”