by Lisa Harris
Two minutes? He studied Olivia’s pale face. She was the woman he’d pledged to be with through sickness and in health. To honor. To cleave to . . . To love . . . He pulled her against him, nestling his face in her hair. He couldn’t lose her now. Not this way.
Olivia reached up and pulled on his arm. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I never meant to hurt you—”
“Don’t talk. Just lay still. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Except he knew it wouldn’t. Blood already soaked her abdomen through the shirt and onto the sheets, leaving a crimson stain on the comforter she’d bought last month. How had this happened?
“I need you to know the truth about what happened. Why . . . why . . .”
He leaned closer, but she wasn’t making any sense.
“Shhh . . .” He pressed his fingers against her lips. “You’re going to be fine. And we’ll catch whoever did this. I promise.”
Sirens pulled in front of his house, their strobe lights reflecting against the mirror on the other side of the room. This was supposed to be someone else’s nightmare. He investigated the crimes. Husbands murdering their wives, crimes of passion, jealousy. But not this.
He wasn’t supposed to be the victim.
A paramedic entered the room. “Sir, I need you to step back, out of the way, so we can help her.”
He climbed off the bed, then stumbled backward as they quickly went to work. The walls were closing in on him. Why hadn’t he caught the men who’d broken in? There were no answers. Just questions about the nightmare he’d just walked into.
“Josh.” Someone grasped his arm and pulled him away from the bed. But he couldn’t leave Olivia.
“Don’t . . .”
He glanced up at his partner. Quinton was two hundred thirty pounds with dark skin and kinky hair that had started to gray over the past couple years. He forced Josh across the hardwood floors and out of the way. “I know this is hard, but let them work on her.”
He stood in the corner of the room while they worked on her, his dress shirt now covered with blood. It was as if he were watching through someone else’s eyes. Some late-night detective show. Because this couldn’t be real. Her pale face staring up at the ceiling while they worked on her.
Quinton’s hand rested on Josh’s shoulder. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know.” When had his mind frozen? He couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember. He couldn’t be just a husband of the victim. He was a detective who found the answers. Who never panicked.
“Josh . . . the more information you give me, the easier it will be to find them.”
“I know.”
“Take a deep breath and try to focus on my questions. Did you see the men who broke into your house?”
The words clicked something on in his brain. He knew Quinton was trying to distract him. Trying to get him to focus on something he could do rather than simply what he was losing. Figuring out who had done this had to be better than this feeling of helplessness. He spent his days tracking down killers. Had learned to shut down his emotions in order to cope. His wife might be dying, but he needed to do the same thing now.
“I saw them coming out of the house and tried to chase them down. Two men, early twenties. I only saw their faces for an instant in the beam of my car’s headlights when they turned and looked at me. One had a dark beard. The other . . . it was hard to tell. Red shoes. I remember he had red shoes.” He fought to remember the details. “I took off after them, heading north on Washington street. After about five minutes I lost them in the darkness when they ducked into someone’s yard.”
“That’s when I called you?”
Josh nodded. “I decided to go back to the house like you said. But Olivia . . . she wasn’t supposed to get back until tomorrow.” Confusion wormed its way through him again. “I don’t know why she’s here.”
“She was here when they broke in?”
He nodded. “I never saw a weapon, but they had to have been armed.”
“We’ll have officers search the vicinity in case they dumped it.”
He shifted his gaze back at her. The paramedics were shouting back and forth. Trying to stop the bleeding. Trying to start her heart.
The room began to spin again.
“Josh, I want you to keep focusing on me. Let them do their job. You can help her the most right now by helping us figure out who did this.”
Silence filled the room. He felt his own heart stop. Eleven years of marriage wasn’t supposed to end this way. He’d always loved her. Always imagined the two of them getting old and retiring together. He couldn’t hear Quinton anymore. Could barely breathe. One of the paramedics was performing CPR. They were losing her.
“What are you doing?” Josh started back toward the bed. They’d stopped the CPR, and he had no idea why. “You can’t stop now.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” One of the paramedics held up his hand. “We’re going to have to request permission to terminate.”
“No. Don’t stop. Transport her to the hospital.”
“Sir, I’m very, very sorry, but there is nothing that can be done. Your wife is gone.”
No. Olivia couldn’t be dead. “I want you to keep trying. Please. She can’t die.”
Quinton led him away from the bed. “There’s nothing they can do, Josh. I’m so sorry, but it’s over.”
He felt his legs collapse as he leaned back against the bedroom wall, then slowly slid to the ground. Suddenly everything was clear. This was his new reality. A widower before he turned forty. And Olivia . . . he’d never loved anyone like he’d loved her.
Life as he knew it was over.
Lisa Harris is a Christy Award finalist for Blood Ransom and Vendetta, Christy Award winner for Dangerous Passage, and the winner of the Best Inspirational Suspense Novel for 2011 (Blood Covenant) and 2015 (Vendetta) from Romantic Times. She has over thirty novels and novella collections in print. She and her family have spent almost fifteen years working as missionaries in Africa. When she’s not working, she loves hanging out with her family, cooking different ethnic dishes, photography, and heading into the African bush on safari. For more information about her books and life in Africa, visit her website at www.lisaharriswrites.com.
Other Books by Lisa Harris
SOUTHERN CRIMES
Dangerous Passage
Fatal Exchange
Hidden Agenda
NIKKI BOYD FILES
Vendetta
Missing
Pursued
Vanishing Point
lisaharriswrites.com
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