by Jennie Marts
Focus on getting out of here. Finding a place to hide.
She heard a man’s voice swear. He must have heard the sirens, too.
He was getting closer. She had to do something.
A huge fallen log lay in the path about twenty feet ahead of her. If she could make it to the log, she could take cover behind it. Maybe burrow under it. It was better than hiding in plain sight, squatted down behind a tree.
Taking a deep breath, she sent up a prayer, and took off running. A stone tore into the bottom of her foot and the rocky path attacked her bare feet.
She heard the sound of running behind her, but she didn’t look back. Couldn’t look back. Could only look forward, focus on her destination—the fallen log. If she could just get behind it.
A gunshot rang out, and the wood splintered on the tree next to her. The shot hit about the same height as her head, and she ducked and kept running.
The sirens wailed in the distance. They had to be almost there.
If she could just get to the tree. It was so close.
She reached out her hand—another gunshot ripped through the air—this time accompanied by a stinging burn in her left arm.
The shot spun her sideways, knocking her off-balance, and she pitched forward.
Her head cracked on the side of the tree stump as the ground came rushing up to meet her.
This was it. This was how she was going to die—barefoot, in the middle of the woods, wearing a dirty T-shirt that advertised Bud’s Bait and Tackle.
Please God—let Mac be okay.
She prayed for Mac as the darkness closed in, and she sank to the soft moss-covered floor of the forest.
Chapter Fifteen
The low beeping of a machine and the smell of antiseptic stole into Zoey’s consciousness. The beep had a solid rhythm, reminding her of a heartbeat.
She blinked, trying to open her eyes. Dust motes floated in the air as sunlight streamed through the window and onto the white sheets of her bed.
Sunlight? Her bed? What?
She struggled to sit up. What happened? Where was she?
It was obvious she was in a hospital—but where?
The last thing she remembered was being at the cabin with Mac, eating grilled cheese, then—the door slamming open—the terrible masked men—running through the forest—the sound of gunshots…
Terror seized her, and a scream clawed at her throat.
She tore at the sheets, fighting to get her feet off the side of the bed. She had to get out of there. She had to find Mac.
Oh God—Mac!
“Whoa. Whoa. Hang on there, honey.” Edna walked into the room and hurried to her side. “You’re okay, Zoey.”
She set the coffee cup she’d been holding on the table next to the bed and wrapped her arms around Zoey’s shoulders. “You’re all right. You’re in the hospital. And they’ve got a policeman stationed right outside your door, so no one’s going to hurt you again.”
“I don’t care about me. Where’s Mac? Is he alive?” She clawed at her grandmother’s sleeve. “Please, is Mac okay?”
A sad look crossed Edna’s face. “Yes, he’s okay. At least he’s not in the hospital.”
“What happened? Where is he?”
“He was knocked out at the cabin. I guess he had called 9-1-1 before he blacked out. He said he woke up when the police got there, and you were gone. He remembered telling you to run, and he helped the police search for you. He was the one who found you at the base of the tree. You were passed out and bleeding. You’d been shot in the arm. But you were lucky, the bullet only grazed your shoulder so you’re going to be fine.”
She looked down at herself. Her left arm was bandaged and sore. A line of dried blood crusted down her inner arm. “In the arm? I was shot in the arm? Then why did I pass out?”
“They think you fell and hit your head on the base of the tree when you were hit. That’s probably what saved you. The gunman most likely thought that he’d killed you.”
Fragments of memory were coming back to her—the rustling of leaves—the deep smell of pine. “Most likely? How do you know? Did they catch him?”
“No. He was already gone by the time the police arrived. That’s why they think that—they figured he must have thought you were already dead—otherwise he would have stuck around to finish the job.”
That sounded right. He’d been pretty determined. She couldn’t imagine him giving up unless he thought he’d completed the job.
“What about the other guy? Is he dead?”
“No. Mac said there’d been another man and that he’d thought he shot him. There was blood on the floor, but by the time Mac woke up, he was gone, too.”
That still didn’t explain what happened to Mac.
“Gram, what’s going on? Where is Mac? What are you not telling me?”
Edna shook her head. “To tell you the truth, honey, I don’t know what the holy heck is going on. He was here. He stayed by your bedside all night. Then this morning, he said he had to get out of here. That he couldn’t take you getting hurt on his watch. He said to tell you that he was sorry, and this was all his fault. And something about how he’d warned you that he couldn’t protect you, and that this deal with the two of you just couldn’t work.”
She lowered her voice and gently touched Zoey’s arm. “I’m sorry, but he said to tell you not to call him and not to expect to hear from him. It was all completely out of character. I’ve never seen Mac like that. It all sounded like a bunch of hooey to me, but he said you’d understand.”
That was crazy. How could he think her getting shot was his fault? Or that he could have stopped it?
She looked around the room for her things—her purse, her clothes, her phone. Then she remembered she had nothing. Her purse was still at her grandmother’s house, her phone was crushed and broken at the bottom of a dumpster, and her clothes were probably still on the front porch of the cabin.
“Do you have your phone, Grandma? Can I borrow it? I’ve got to call him. I need to talk to him.” Her voice carried a desperate plea, even to her own ears.
Edna dug her phone out of her purse. “Of course. You can try. But he hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts. I don’t think he wants to talk.”
She took the phone, pressed the contact number for Officer Mac McCarthy and listened to the phone ring. His voicemail picked up, and she almost wept at the sound of his voice. “Mac, it’s Zoey. I’m calling you from my grandma’s phone. I’m still at the hospital. Please call me. I need to talk to you. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me like this. I love you.”
She clicked off the phone and handed it back to Edna, who wore a surprised expression on her face. “So a few things might have changed with Mac since I saw you last. We’ve gotten—closer.”
“Yes, I gathered that.”
Before Zoey could say more, the door to her hospital room opened, and the Page Turners book club strode into the room. Cassie and her niece Piper carried a huge bouquet of colored balloons and a plastic container of cookies.
Maggie carried a take-out tray filled with coffees, and Sunny’s arms were filled with magazines and a stuffed teddy bear holding a heart that read ‘Get Well Soon.’ They must have been out of bears holding hearts that said ‘Sorry you got shot and your new boyfriend ditched you’—because that sounded more like the get-well bear she needed.
Her grandfather brought up the rear, a beautiful vase of flowers clutched in his hands. He set the flowers down and hurried to Zoey’s side. Well, hurried as much as a man in his eighties wearing a boot on his foot could. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You scared us to death.”
She loved that Johnny seemed so tough, and yet was so tender with her and her grandmother. “I’m okay, Grandpa. Have you talked to Mac?”
He shook his head, the same sad look shining in his eyes that had been in Edna’s. “I’m sorry, honey. I haven’t talked to him since he left this morning.” He pulled a new cell phone from his pocket and handed it
to her. “I did manage to get a new phone for you. It’s one of those trac phones, but at least you’ll have something if you need to make a call.”
She hugged him to her. “You’re the best. Thanks so much.” She lowered her voice so that only he could hear. “I appreciate the flowers and balloons, but this is the best thing you could have brought me.”
He winked and gave her a knowing nod.
Then the Page Turners took over the room. Everyone talked at once—asking questions, throwing out theories, exclaiming over Zoey’s condition, or trying to feed her.
She turned down three offers of cookies, an offer of cake and one of a sandwich. Edna offered to go get her a milkshake. They all wanted to please her.
But she wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t thirsty. And as much as she loved ice cream, no milkshake was going to fix the tear in her heart that Mac’s leaving had caused.
After several hours of hanging out, Zoey feigned exhaustion and finally convinced the Page Turners to leave. The room was blessedly silent as the door shut behind them, leaving only her and Edna in the room. Johnny had left earlier, heading home to put his leg up and to feed and take care of the dogs.
Zoey covered her head with her good arm. “How long am I going to have to stay here?”
“I’m not sure. At least overnight again. Hopefully the doctor will release you when he does his rounds in the morning.”
She looked down at the hospital gown. “I don’t even have any clothes.”
“Oh, I took care of that.” Edna pulled a plastic shopping bag from inside of her cavernous purse. “The nurse told me when they brought you in that all you were wearing was a T-shirt and underpants, so I grabbed you a few things. It’s not much, but I stopped at Target and got you some yoga pants, a top, a bra and some underwear. I found these little sneakers just so you’d have some shoes to wear out of here. And I bought you a few basic toiletries, too.” She pulled the items out of her bag as she talked and set them on the bed.
Zoey picked up the travel size bottle of shampoo. She was ready to use her own shampoo, in her own place. She missed her apartment. Although she wondered if it would feel different now. Now that a dead guy had bled all over the foyer floor. Would she ever feel safe there again?
Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. She needed to concentrate on getting out of the hospital. Getting out and finding Mac. If she could just see him, talk to him, she knew she could convince him not to leave her.
She dug through the other items on the bed, holding up a black lace bra and a three-pack of packaged undies. Or what some would call undies—she called them dental floss. “Grandma, I’m in the hospital, not going on a date. Why did you get me thong underwear?”
Edna shrugged. “Just because you’re in the hospital doesn’t mean you still don’t want to feel pretty. Besides, I assumed that’s what all the young ladies wore nowadays. Although personally, I’ve tried them, and they feel like I’m walking around with a wedgie all day.”
She winced as she imagined her grandmother in a pair of thong underwear. Now she’d never get that image out of her head. “Well, I don’t wear them either, unless it’s with a particular outfit that I don’t want my panty-lines to show.”
“Sorry, honey. You’ll just have to put up with wedgieville until you get out and can buy your own undies.”
“Thong undies are better than no undies, I guess.” She pulled a pair from the pack and grabbed the toiletries to head for the bathroom, then realized she was still tethered to the IV stuck in her arm. She rang for the nurse.
“Can I get the IV removed so I can take a shower?” she asked the nurse that replied to her call.
“Have you been drinking liquids? Or eaten anything?” the nurse asked.
Zoey nodded. “I’ve been drinking water all day, and I had half a sandwich earlier.” She’d finally given in to the pressure of the Page Turners and eaten part of a sandwich and a cookie. “I’m really feeling fine. I’d just like to take a shower.”
The nurse nodded and removed the IV tube. She left the needle in her arm and taped the plug to the side of her elbow. “I can’t remove it all the way until you’re released, but this will let you take a shower. Just don’t stay in there too long. You hit your head pretty good last night, and your body’s been through a lot of trauma. You might think you’re doing fine, but you don’t want to push yourself by trying to do too much too quickly. There’s a nurse call-cord in the bathroom if you need me. I’ll bring you a fresh hospital gown.”
Free of the IV cord, she climbed out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. Her feet hurt from the cuts and bruises she’d inflicted on them from running barefoot through the woods. Her legs were a patchwork of damage, scratches crisscrossing minor cuts and scrapes.
But the injuries to her body were nothing compared to the pain in her heart. What was Mac thinking? Why hadn’t he called?
She brought the trac-phone with her into the small bathroom. She’d programmed Mac’s number into it from Edna’s phone earlier and sent him a text giving him her new number and asking him to call her.
With her arm still bandaged, Edna had to help her wash her hair, but she could otherwise get soaped up and dried off. She put on the bra, the thong underwear, and the fresh hospital gown the nurse had dropped off. She might still be in the hospital, but at least she was clean and had washed the dried blood off her skin.
Edna helped her climb back into bed and combed out her hair. It brought back memories of Mac combing her hair the night before, and her heart ached.
Why was he doing this? She understood that he felt guilty about not being able to protect his partner, but he had protected her. That first man was going to shoot her in the face if Mac hadn’t kicked down the door and fired first. He’s the one who’d yelled for her to run.
And the main difference between her and his past partner was that she was still alive. She hadn’t died on his watch. She’d only been shot in the arm. It was practically a flesh wound.
A flesh wound that hurt like hell right now. She grimaced as she adjusted her body on the hospital bed.
“Is your arm hurting?” Edna asked, already heading for the hallway. “I’ll have the nurse bring you some ibuprofen.”
The nurse returned with Edna a few minutes later and handed Zoey a paper cup with two capsules inside. “This will help with the pain.”
Would it help with the pain of her broken heart? Did the nurse have any magic pills for that?
She took the medicine and leaned back on the pillow. Edna eased herself down into the chair next to her bed. It was obvious her grandmother was running out of steam.
Zoey picked up Edna’s hand. “Why don’t you go on home, Gram? I’ll be fine here. I’m just going to go to sleep.”
Her grandmother waved a hand away. “No, I’m fine. I can stay.”
“Grandma, don’t be silly. You were here last night. You need your rest. Besides, there’s a cop sitting outside my door. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m just going to sleep.” It wasn’t the cop she wished was sitting out there, but at least it gave her a little peace of mind that she was being watched over.
Edna finally relented. She gave Zoey a squeeze before she left. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning. You just rest now. And don’t worry, I’m still on the case. I’ll figure this out yet.”
“I know you will. Good night.”
She was tired. She could barely keep her eyes open, but thoughts of Mac kept her from drifting off.
The new cell phone was right by her pillow. She checked it again. No messages.
She typed another text to Mac. Please answer me. I need to know that you’re okay. That we’re okay. I don’t blame you for this.
She held the phone to her chest, praying for his response. Her heart leapt a moment later when the phone buzzed.
It was a message—from Mac. But I blame myself. I couldn’t protect you and it’s killing me. I can’t go through this again. I won’t. I trust the guy at the hospital
who is watching over you. I wish things could have been different. Please don’t text me again.
Each of his words was like a fresh slice to her already fragile heart. He couldn’t mean it. Were his wounds so deep from what happened with Ashley that he would deny himself his own happiness in order to not put himself in the position of protecting someone he loved again?
She closed her eyes, tried to block out the hospital and the pain in her arm. And in her heart.
She finally fell into a fitful sleep, but woke with a start several hours later. Her heart was racing as if she’d had a nightmare.
Struggling to sit up, she wondered what had caused her to wake so suddenly. The room was dark except for the dim light above her bed. She checked her phone. It read 11:45 PM. Almost midnight.
The door to her room was open a crack, and she heard voices from the hall.
“Are you sure? She’s sleeping right now. Nobody’s in there with her.” She thought she recognized the voice of the cop who had been stationed outside of her door.
“Yeah. I’m sure. You can take a breather. Grab a smoke. We’ll stay here and keep watch for a bit.”
She knew she recognized that voice. It was Mac. He’d come back for her after all.
Maybe he thought he could show up in the middle of the night—just to keep watch over her while she was sleeping.
She threw back the covers. He wasn’t getting away this easy. He needed to face her and tell her if he wanted out.
The nurse had reconnected her stupid IV and the cord tangled in the sheets. She didn’t care, she’d drag the dang IV pole with her—she just wanted to see him.
She tugged the cord free, stood up next to the bed. Her legs were still shaky. She pulled the pole to her then froze as she heard the voice that spoke to Mac.
“I can’t believe that guy still smokes. Doesn’t he know those things will kill you?”
Her heart hammered against her chest. That voice. She would have known it anywhere. It was the one haunting her nightmares.
It was the voice of the same man who had broken into her apartment, who had hunted her down in the woods then shot her and left her for dead.
