She stiffened in Travis’s arms, glanced up, and met Collin’s gaze. His face was pale, making the amber freckles smudged across his nose stand out. Just seeing someone so familiar was comforting, and without a second thought, Ellie pushed out of Travis’s arms and fell into Collin’s.
“Collin!” She threw her arms around his waist, the crisp button-up cool against her cheek. Collin hugged her, his embrace different from Travis’s heavily toned one, but no less calming. She enjoyed the moment of safety only briefly before leaning back against the enclosure of his arms to explain Amelia’s injuries.
“She was shot. Must’ve been a .22. Small exit wound. Two times. Right lower quadrant of her abdomen with no exit wound. And right upper chest, through and through.”
Collin gently disentangled Ellie from his hold, looking through the clear lenses of his glasses into her eyes. His rich, nearly green eyes were moist and red.
“Wait. Slow down.” Concern showed on his face. “Who was shot?” Collin asked, looking back and forth between Travis and Ellie.
Ellie wanted to scream. How had he not picked up on anything she’d been saying? She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to hide her irritation, and then slowed down. Simplify.
“Amelia. She’s in critical condition. She was shot in her . . .” Ellie stopped herself before slipping back into her medical jargon. “She’s in surgery. So is Steve. He was injured too but not as seriously. Two men came into the office and shot them.”
“Shot them?” This time he addressed the question to Travis, a touch of outrage and disbelief in his voice. “Who? Who did this?”
“There is an ongoing investigation. As of right now, the man is unidentified. When . . .” Travis cleared his throat, glancing at Ellie as he said the next names. “When Mr. and Mrs. Saxton are out of surgery, we are hoping to know more.”
“No one got a good look at him?”
Travis shook his head, one hand resting on the crackling radio at his side. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this. Brown,” Travis said, looking right at her, the softness in his voice from earlier replaced by a professional, almost hard edge, “we still need to talk. Don’t leave the hospital without checking in, okay?”
“I’ll be with Amelia.”
“Anything changes, you call, okay?” Travis asked.
“Okay,” Ellie said simply. Travis turned to leave, but Ellie called out. “Uh, Rivera, wait.” He stopped and turned to face the pair. “This is my fiancé, Collin. If I’m not around, you can get my number from him.”
Travis nodded slowly and took in Collin like he was scanning a potential suspect before putting out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Collin. Travis Rivera.”
“Nice to meet you too. Heard a lot about you,” Collin replied. They shook briefly before Travis’s radio crackled again, an impatient voice on the other end.
“That’s my cue. Brown—no running away this time. We will talk.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved him off, turning her attention back to Collin as Travis walked away, grabbing for his radio. Once Travis was out of range, Collin blew out a long breath.
“Whew, he’s intense. That’s Rivera?” Collin watched after him and then looked back at Ellie. “For some reason, I was imagining a two-hundred-pound forty-year-old dude. Not RoboCop.”
“Don’t worry. He grows on you.”
Collin nodded slowly and then took Ellie’s hands. “So, where is Caleb? He’s got to be freaking out. You know he’s always had a thing for Amelia. Was he there when this guy showed up? Oh God, is he hurt too?”
Ellie shook her head in a little flick. “No. Not as far as I know.” How had she skipped this important information? “There was one other man who got away, but one of the intruders is dead. He was shot in the face.” She lowered her voice so the whole ER wouldn’t hear.
“Wait . . . dead?” Collin’s hands tightened around hers, and he got still. Very still. The color drained from his face like someone had pulled a plug. She’d seen Collin deal with lots of things, open wounds, crushed skulls, a kid half-drowned in his backyard swimming pool, but she’d never seen him look like this. It scared Ellie, and the brief moments of comfort and safety in Collin’s arms dissolved into an empty fear.
“What? What is it?”
Collin swallowed hard. “L . . . what if . . .” He swallowed again, his eyes glossed over with moisture. “What if the other man was Caleb?”
CHAPTER 12
AMELIA
Monday, April 11
Four weeks earlier
A warm breeze rushed through Amelia’s dark hair, still a little damp from her postworkout shower. It was amazing what a week could do to the world. As they waited for Cora to finish her viola lesson across the street at Ms. Larson’s house, and Kate took turns being “it” with the other kids on the playground in a complicated game of “Don’t touch the wood chips,” Amelia took a moment to just breathe. It had only been a week since she’d sat on a frozen park bench, very similar to this one, with Caleb. Back then, the world had been covered in frosty brown grass and the air tainted with hints of snow and ice. Now the world was bursting with life.
Spring had come and everything seemed brighter. It was like the color setting on the TV had been turned up several notches; the grass surrounding the playground was greener than Amelia remembered grass ever being. The tulip buds peeking through the dirt at the base of the trees in the park reminded her that good things sometimes took time and a little patience to show their beauty. Yeah. It was a good day.
As Amelia enjoyed the warm breeze, a scream broke her few moments of reverie.
“HEY! Watch where you are going.” A little voice echoed through the park. Kate. Yes, definitely Kate. Then the unfamiliar cry of another child. Great. Relaxing time canceled. When it was your kid being the bully on the playground, the only thing to do was run up, apologize, and then run away before the parent of the child could make comments on your parenting skills.
Amelia leaped off the bench and crossed the playground, following the pained wails of a small child. On the other side of the playground equipment lay a little boy, facedown, prostrate on the wood chips, making no effort to turn his head to the side. Kate sat next to him, pieces of her dark hair stuck to the corners of her mouth. Her cheeks were red and wet like she’d been crying.
Amelia fell to her knees beside the crying mystery child. She put her hand lightly on his back and spoke in her most calming motherly tone. “Hey, sweetie. You okay? Can I help you?” Then she gave Kate a look that said, What the HECK happened here?
“He was kicking me while we were waiting in line for the slide. So, I told him to stop and he didn’t and I told him to STOP and he didn’t and I told him to stop or I’d get my mom and he didn’t and then . . . I pushed him.”
“Kate!” Amelia shook her head. “You don’t PUSH a little kid!” She patted the boy’s shoulder again. He’d stopped crying and turned his face to the side. Pieces of dirt and wood chip clung to his fair skin. “Go find his mom, okay?”