Time was flying by, and Ellie’s nausea was reaching a peak. She put her head between her legs, her breathing closer to panting. Each breath brought in the same smell she was trying to escape, making her gag. Oh God, she was going to vomit all over the crime scene. She swallowed again and again, craving the cool air outside. Just as she gathered herself enough to take another look out of the blinds, a loud crash and a muffled cry sounded in the office.
She stood up, her senses on edge, the nausea lifting and replaced with panic. Someone was in the office, someone else who was hiding. She should leave, she should run, but that cry, it sounded like pain. It sounded . . . familiar. Just like when running into a burning building or wrapping a tourniquet around a gushing artery, Ellie made a decision based on instinct more than intellect. She let the adrenaline drive her forward until her hand was resting on the silver knob of the office door.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t latched, much less locked. All it took was a hard push forward, and the door whistled open. If it weren’t for years of pushing past the discomfort of panic and anticipation, she would’ve closed her eyes as though the thin protection of her eyelids were enough to keep the monsters in the closet from getting her. But when the door smacked against the rubber doorstop and the light from the room flooded in, she didn’t see a monster. At the back of the office, kneeling on the floor in front of a ripped-up segment of carpet and a rectangular hole in the floor was Steve. Ellie was surprised and relieved at the same time.
“What the HELL are you doing here?” Ellie asked, letting out a long breath. He was probably there for the same reason she was—to get something.
Steve stood with effort, his face showing the briefest flash of pain but otherwise calm as though he were attending a family party rather than hiding in a roped-off crime scene filled with priceless evidence.
“Hey, L,” Steve said like he had a million times before, his eyes holding on to hers. A soft smile turned up the corners of his mouth in a way that was familiar but not comforting. “I think it’s time we had a little talk.”
CHAPTER 38
AMELIA
Wednesday, May 11
7:11 a.m.
Ellie needs to get to school. Late, so late.
Why couldn’t she wake up today? Usually her alarm would go off, she’d wake up Ellie, make Dad coffee, throw a few frozen waffles in the toaster oven, and then take a shower before heading to school. But today, today it was different. Her alarm was beeping, but she couldn’t force her eyes to open.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
The darkness was heavy, but she could sense the light in her room. It didn’t feel warm like sunlight, and the more she focused on her body, the more odd sensations she found there. She couldn’t move her arms or legs; they were heavy as if they were filled with lead. There was a faint nibbling of discomfort or maybe pain in all the heaviness. It was hard to know for sure; maybe her leg had fallen asleep. Maybe she’d slept funny.
The beeping again. God, she wanted to make that beeping stop. And Ellie . . . Ellie . . . Ellie . . .
Ellie. The beeping increased and her fingers twitched, wanting to slap the Snooze button. Then there were hands touching her. Not Ellie’s hands, not little-girl hands, bigger, stronger. The hands made her struggle, her numb arms and legs tingling like they’d fallen asleep. The beeping came faster and faster, making Amelia want to scream.
“Is she okay?” a deep voice asked. Not Steve. Someone else.
“Her pain medication must be wearing off. Sometimes that can cause stress even in a coma patient. Let me check her chart, and then we can give her some relief.” Then in a sweeter tone: “We’re gonna get you some medicine, honey. Don’t worry. You’ll be resting nicely in no time.”
No. She didn’t want to rest. She wanted to wake up. Wake up, Amelia. WAKE UP.
Her eyes opened. It was bright, so bright, and the pain that seemed distant before started to flood in. There was one woman in scrubs rushing around the room. She didn’t seem to notice Amelia’s eyes following her as she searched through a metal chart that she’d retrieved from the foot of her bed.
But behind the woman was a young, attractive man sitting on the edge of his seat like he wanted to help but didn’t know what to do. He was typing frantically into his phone, and Amelia wondered who was on the other end of this stranger’s urgent texts. He pressed a button with finality and placed the phone in his jeans front pocket. When he glanced up to take in the scene, they made eye contact. The man jumped to his feet, his hands waving at the nurse still working hard in the room.
“Look. Look.” He pointed toward Amelia without breaking their connection. The nurse finally took notice.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” she crooned with a slight Southern twang. “Good to see you awake. How is your pain, hon? One to ten.” She placed a cool hand on Amelia’s forehead and glanced at the numbers listed on the machine by her bedside.
Amelia tried to focus in on the throb in her midsection and shoulder. She knew what she wanted to say, but the words seemed to jumble in her mind.
“Six,” she responded after two attempts.
“Okay, I’ll get the doctor.” The nurse rushed out of the room, and the man hurried over to her side.
“Where am I?” she asked, the words stumbling as they came out. “Who are you?”
“You’re in the hospital. I’m going to let the doctors talk to you about the medical stuff, but you’ve been asleep. I’m Travis. I’m a police officer and a friend of your sister.”
Your sister. The phrase made her pulse rise and the beeping on the machine next to her go wild. Amelia wrestled against the invisible bands weighing her down, but every attempt to sit up sent hot stabs of pain through her body until tears gathered on her eyelashes.
“Whoa, stop. You’re safe. I have a guard outside. I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Amelia stilled and tried to clear her mind of the fog that was making her behave so irrationally. Her dark hair stuck to the sides of her face and itched, but she didn’t dare try to move again to wipe it away.
“Where is Steve? Where is Ellie?” The words sounded like she was talking with her mouth full of marshmallows.
Travis hesitated and then took out his phone again and started typing while talking.
“I think Ellie is on the way. We both left at the same time . . . She should be here soon.” He typed for a few more moments and then looked back at Amelia.
“Travis,” she said, recalling his name more easily than the other details of her recent life, “where is my husband?”
“He was by your bedside for a while, but . . .” The plainclothes officer pressed his lips together like he was trying not to say something. “He was also injured in your . . . event, and the doctors made him go back to his room. I’m sure the nurse will contact him and he will be here soon.”