The officer looked over his shoulder as another entered the room.
“She the one who called 911?”
Her officer—Officer Cole, according to his nametag—nodded. “She’s going to need some help getting home.”
“Think you can help us out till then?”
“Just give me a minute.”
The officer left and Officer Cole turned back to her. “We’re going to help you get home, but I need to do a few things first. Can you sit tight for a little while? I’ll be right outside the door.”
She nodded, and he walked out of David’s office.
For the next few minutes, Paige sat motionless. A chilling numbness had seeped inside her, sinking into the marrow of her bones. Hugging herself, she was certain she’d never feel warm again.
Every so often, Officer Cole paused at the doorway to check on her. It was nearly half an hour later before he walked back inside the room. “We’re going to take you home now.” Taking her arm, he helped her up from the chair.
Paige tried to corral her thoughts, and said, “I have a car . . . it’s downstairs.”
He nodded. “I’ll help you get it home.”
Her legs felt like rubber as she began to walk. Officer Cole seemed to sense this, because a moment later, his strong grip steadied her.
God, she was a mess. None of her colleagues had reacted this way. She’d seen them speaking with the officers while she’d been seated in the office. Even Anne had seemed calm in comparison. She pushed aside her thoughts and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
“Do you have anything you need to take home?”
She stopped walking, chastising herself because she wasn’t even thinking straight. He was right; she needed her purse. She veered toward her desk. Once she’d retrieved her purse, they headed for the door.
When they rounded the corner of a desk near the front of the office and David’s blood on the carpet became visible, Paige stiffened.
“Take it easy,” the officer murmured.
Forcing her gaze upward, she took in a breath and nodded.
“Meet you out front,” Office Cole told another officer.
They took the elevator down to the parking garage. As the door slid open, Paige pointed. “My car’s over there.” Reaching into her purse, she managed to pull out her keys.
Officer Cole covered her hand and gently took the keys. “I’ll drive.”
When they reached her Jeep Cherokee, he opened the passenger door and guided her inside. She watched him round the back of the car after he’d shut her door. The driver’s seat eased backward as he got inside.
He started the car and angled himself toward her. “What’s your address?”
She gave it and soon they were heading up the garage ramp. Once they were on the street, Officer Cole signaled to another officer who was waiting in a patrol car by the curb, and the car followed them.
For most of the ride, Paige sat in silence. She could feel the officer watching her whenever they stopped at a light.
“This is a nice part of town,” he finally said.
Drawing in a breath, she murmured her agreement.
After he’d turned onto her block, Paige pointed. “It’s the white duplex on the right.”
As the other officer parked out front, Officer Cole pulled her Jeep into her driveway, then escorted Paige up the stone pathway. Holding up her key chain, he asked, “Is your door key on here?”
Still feeling numb, she nodded. When they reached the door, he opened it and they stepped inside. Then he took a long look at Paige, as if assessing her condition.
Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she stood up a little straighter. The last thing she wanted was for this policeman to see her as weak. It was bad enough to know she was a mess; no need for him to know it too.
After clearing his throat, he asked, “Will you be all right here by yourself?”
She looked up at him for a long moment before she nodded. “Yes.”
Leveling his green gaze on her, Officer Cole asked, “You’ll do what the paramedics said and get some rest?”
The question surprised her for a moment. “Uh, yes. I will.”
He nodded and then said good-bye. As he headed for the door, she called out, “Officer?” and he turned back.
“Thank you. For helping me, I mean.”
Officer Cole smiled, his expression lighting up his whole face and increasing his attractiveness by a factor of at least ten. Paige felt a little flutter at the sight, a tingle of awareness she hadn’t experienced in ages.
“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Lock up after me, all right?”
After he left, Paige hugged her arms around herself as she sank onto the sofa. Before today, she’d felt safe in Bennington. Now it was if her bubble of safety had just burst, and her mind whirled at the implications.
• • •
A knock on the door a while later startled her. Turning her head, Paige squinted at the clock. For nearly four hours she’d been sitting in a daze, and the room had darkened without her noticing it.
She rose, walked to the door, and looked through the peephole. Melissa stood there, backlit by the porch light.
“Hey,” Melissa said once Paige opened the door. “I just heard what happened. Are you okay?”
“No, not really.” Her heart squeezed as she murmured, “David was shot.”
Melissa’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I knew a man had been brought into the ER with a gunshot wound, but I had no idea it was him.”
“I—I need to get to the hospital.”
Melissa squeezed her shoulder. “Let’s call first. See how he’s doing.” With her usual brisk efficiency, she walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. Soon she was speaking with a coworker, and after asking a few pointed questions, she hung up and gave Paige’s hand a squeeze. “He’s out of surgery. They were able to recover the bullet and he’s stable.”
A rush of air escaped Paige’s chest as Melissa hung up the phone. Thank God.
Melissa embraced her. “Everything’s going to be all right, Paige.”
Paige swiped a tear from her face. “I still need to go see him.”
“I can take you,” Melissa offered, and Paige closed her eyes with relief. Being with Melissa would make the visit so much easier.
As Paige and Melissa stepped through the hospital’s glass doors fifteen minutes later, the smell of antiseptic filled Paige’s nose. Numbly, she followed her friend as they headed toward the ICU. Paige barely felt functional. Without Melissa’s help, there was no way she would have made it here.
They stopped at the nurses’ station and the male nurse on duty filled them in. David was awake now. He’d been moved into the ICU only as a precaution.
While those words should have comforted Paige, the fear persisted. She could hear the steady beep of a heart-rate monitor as they neared David’s room. When they stepped inside, he was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, his face wan and pale.
Paige whispered his name softly. At the sound of her voice, his eyes opened and then widened in recognition.
“How are you doing?” she asked, and her voice cracked with emotion. Seeing David like this gave her an unpleasant sense of déjà vu, having sat with him by Laura’s bedside as she wasted away from cancer only a year before. The loss when Laura passed away had devastated Paige as well as David, and the thought of possibly also losing David took Paige’s breath away.
He didn’t answer and his eyes closed. Paige sat down beside his bed and took his hand into hers. For nearly half an hour, she sat with him while he dozed. Melissa left to speak with a coworker, and when she returned, David blinked his eyes open again to focus on Paige.
“Go home,” he croaked out, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“No. I want to stay with you,” she insisted, and squeezed his hand. Besides her, he had no one here in Bennington, and she hated the thought of leaving him alone.
David’s imploring gaze wen
t to Melissa, and she stepped forward. “The nurses are going to take good care of him, Paige. I promise you.”
Reluctantly, Paige stood, then leaned forward to kiss David’s cheek. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
He nodded, and then his eyes shut.
Once she and Melissa arrived back at the duplex, Melissa offered to spend the night.
“You have a shift tomorrow, don’t you?” Paige asked.
Melissa shrugged. “That doesn’t matter.”
Paige eyed her sofa. It wasn’t a sleeper and she had no guest bed. There was no way her friend would be comfortable. “It’s okay. I feel much better now that I’ve seen him. Really,” she said when Melissa didn’t move.
Finally, Melissa nodded. “You’ll call me if you need anything?”
“Yes. If all else fails, I can bang on the wall if I need you.”
Melissa chuckled. “All right, then. Get some rest. I’ll check in with you before I leave for work.”
As exhausted as she felt, Paige doubted she’d be able to sleep. Tears pricked her eyes as she followed Melissa to the door. She was such a good friend.
Despite the time difference on the East Coast—it was now after midnight—Paige picked up the phone after Melissa left. Her parents would want to know what had happened. On the third ring, her mother answered.
“Uncle David’s going to be okay, but something happened,” Paige said without preamble, then gave her mother the details of the shooting.
At her mother’s gasp, Paige rushed to reassure her.
Her parents had never liked the idea of her moving to Bennington. They’d been upset when she’d told them she was taking the job. They’d even been mad at Uncle David for a while. In their opinion, she was too young to be so far away from home.
But Paige had persisted and they’d finally relented, acknowledging that she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Everything had worked out fine, and the change had been good for her.
Until now, anyway.
Chapter 12
Ethan lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. It had taken all his willpower to leave Paige alone; she had aroused every protective instinct he had. He’d wanted nothing more than to stay with her and make sure she would be all right, but Mark had been waiting outside and there was a ton of work to do for the case.
Since he’d left her house, she’d barely been out of his mind. He and Mark had arrived back at the station to the chaos of news vans. Their captain had given a press conference soon after.
By the time Ethan had gotten home, it had been well past ten. Now, the day was replaying itself inside his head. He kept picturing the look on Paige’s face; the naked vulnerability and helplessness displayed there had tugged at him. Hopefully she was doing better than she had been that afternoon.
It was long hours later before he was finally able to sleep.
The next morning, he stepped into his briefing and took the empty seat next to Mark. Their captain stood at the podium, waiting until the buzz died down before starting the meeting with interview assignments.
While they’d obtained preliminary information from witnesses the night before, everyone had been badly shaken. Bennington was a small town, and shootings like the one the day before were a rarity. Today they’d be gathering more detail for reports they’d send the DA. The shooter’s wife would be coming into the station to make a statement, but the rest of the interviews would be conducted in the witnesses’ residences.
Ethan and Mark were assigned to interview David Nelson, the owner of Nelson Media. The captain had been told by a hospital administrator that he was awake now and able to speak.
As the briefing drew to a close, Ethan thought again of Paige. The captain hadn’t mentioned interviewing her, but that wasn’t a surprise. She hadn’t seen anything after she’d hidden under the desk. It was the witnesses who were closest to the shooter—including the shooter’s own wife—whose statements were critical.
Logical, yet Ethan still felt a stab of disappointment nonetheless. Whether it was to make sure she was all right, as he kept telling himself, or for another reason, he badly wanted to see her again.
• • •
Several days later, the director of Family Housing, a nonprofit organization, phoned Ethan about volunteering. The year before, Ethan had helped the group rebuild a house for a family who’d been victim to an electrical fire. He’d enjoyed the work, especially the feeling he got when he saw the family members’ faces as they were presented with their new home. Last year he’d had more free time on his hands, but things were different now.
Ethan took the call as he worked in one of his upstairs bedrooms, his phone to his ear as he looked around at his own massive construction project, unsure of how he’d find the time this year. But as he listened to the director explain who the house was for—a family whose husband and father had died serving in Afghanistan—he found he couldn’t refuse.
“Will it be the same time this year? Late fall?”
“Yes.”
“Put me down then,” he said, and the director thanked him profusely.
After they hung up, Ethan surveyed the room he stood in. That week, he’d finally moved out of his apartment and was now living full-time in the house. And although he was busy—the house took up every minute he wasn’t working—he was enjoying the renovations.
Already the house looked much better. All the old carpets had been removed, a new roof had been installed, the water and smoke damage in the kitchen fixed. Even better, the place no longer smelled of mold.
With a rush of satisfaction, Ethan pulled the air mask back over his face and went back to sanding the wood floor.
Chapter 13
For the fourth morning in a row since the shooting, Paige had woken in a cold sweat. She rose from her bed and headed for the bathroom. It had been another restless night, and she could see the effects of her lack of sleep in the mirror.
She washed her hands and face before going back to her bedroom. Even before the shooting, she could remember Anne on the phone, arguing with her husband. For months, it had been obvious there was trouble at home. But no one had suspected it would result in something like this.
Paige pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser. She took out the box inside and set it on top of the bed. As she’d done each day since the shooting, she debated opening it.
Nausea hit her hard when she finally lifted the lid and peered inside. It had been nearly a year—the anniversary of her friend’s death—since she’d last opened it. She picked up the magazine article that lay inside and stared down at the girls’ pictures.
The Campus Killer murdered three students before being killed in a fire. Remains of two women were found in an underground bunker, and another victim was found dead at another location. The identity of the surviving victim is being withheld by police.
Three women killed before their time in sinister violence. Jane had been her roommate and best friend. They’d met their first day of college orientation, hitting it off instantly. While they’d been in different dorms their freshman year, Paige and Jane had roomed together each year after that. It was two years ago, during their senior year, that Jane had been killed.
The FBI believed that Paige had been the killer’s target; Jane had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The theory was that Jane had opened the door for the killer, letting him into their apartment.
Even though there had been no sign of forced entry, Paige still had trouble believing that. Jane had grown up in New York City. She’d been a cautious person, and it was hard to believe she’d just opened the door for a stranger.
Seeing Jane’s photo now brought on waves of sadness along with pangs of guilt. Paige hadn’t been able to attend her friend’s funeral. It had been held right after Paige’s rescue, and she’d still been recovering in the hospital. Ironically, it was Jane’s parents who’d visited her, offering words of comfort. To this day, she could still remember the look of devast
ation on their faces. It had been the worst thing she’d ever seen.
Paige felt an all-too-familiar constriction in her chest. She tried hard to suck in a breath. Several seconds later, she still wasn’t able to get in enough air. Desperate to fill her lungs, she stumbled toward the bathroom and ripped open the medicine cabinet. Jerking the cap off the medicine bottle, she gulped down a pill and chased it with water.
Minutes later, she was finally able to breathe normally. She stared down at the bottle in her hand. There had been a time when she’d been unable to get through the day without at least two of these pills. Nighttime had been the worst; she’d awake in a panic, and these pills were the only thing that helped.
Originally, Paige hadn’t wanted to see a doctor; she hadn’t wanted to discuss what had happened. As a physician, her father wasn’t supposed to write a prescription for a family member, but he’d been willing to do so when he’d woken early one morning and found her in the middle of an attack.
Not wanting her father to risk getting in any more trouble—he was facing intense scrutiny at the time from the hospital board and from the media—she’d finally agreed to get some help. And it was a good thing she had. The doctor she’d seen hadn’t pushed her to talk about things, and Paige had walked out of her office clutching a prescription and feeling relief for the first time in months.
Survivor’s guilt—Paige definitely experienced that. But it wasn’t what caused the panic attacks. What triggered them was remembering everything about the kidnapping . . .
• • •
It had been a regular day like any other for Paige. It was her senior year at Falls College, and she’d finished a half day of classes and had headed back to the off-campus apartment she shared with Jane.
She’d checked for mail in the building’s lobby, and was sorting through it as she stepped into the apartment. Noticing nothing out of the ordinary, she’d dropped her backpack just inside the door and walked into the kitchen with the intention of leaving the mail on the kitchen table.
While glancing over their electric bill, she noticed the floor seemed slick as she stepped into the kitchen. With a muttered curse, she peered over the mail in her hands to see what had Jane had spilled. The large dark red pool of liquid at her feet confused her, and then the odd smell in the room clicked. Blood.
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