Before she could voice her concern, a uniformed officer walked into the kitchen. “We need to clear the building for the bomb squad.”
“That’s what I’m forgetting.” Zachary said. He and Molly tailed the policeman out.
Now it was over.
The policeman slammed the patrol car door, giving Grace and Ed privacy for a few seconds.
Grace leaned forward to hide her mouth from view of the window. “Squib’s all set.”
“Pearse got off grand.”
Their son wasn’t anywhere in sight. Pearse was free to trigger the bomb tomorrow and carry the plan into the next phase, she hoped. And if she’d only followed his escape route through the north door, she would’ve been free with him.
“Think they’ll find it?” Ed asked.
The know-nothing. “I don’t.” They’d have to know precisely where to look. Wouldn’t be any residue nearby, and even bomb sniffing dogs shouldn’t be able to detect it. If anything, they’d find Pearse’s client’s bomb. “Don’t let them see you talkin’.”
Ed kept his expression impassive. “What do you know? All Pearse’s talk of redundancy came to some use. ‘Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.’”
For once, Grace smiled at his Yeats quote. “‘The blood-dimmed tide is loosed.’”
The policeman opened his door and got in, and they drove off in silence.
The bomb squad tech escorted Molly and Zachary from the building. When they reached the car park, Zachary began to fall behind. Molly stopped to wait for him. She slid her arm around his waist and guided his arm to her shoulders.
He leaned on her more with every step. “Sure you’re all right?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
Molly stopped. “Talk to me, Zachary.”
He said something too quiet to make out. His eyes remained closed. She guided him to the nearest ambulance. A paramedic helped them into the back of the bus, seating him on the bench inside to extract the history of Zachary’s injury. After the fourth time of admitting he didn’t remember, Zachary glowered at the EMT. The medic turned to her. “Can you keep him talking?”
Molly scrambled for a conversation topic that she could broach with an audience.
The EMT moved away once Zachary started the conversation. “I guess I should either say ‘Thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry.’”
“Oh?”
“You did kind of save my life.” The medic handed Zachary an ice pack, and he applied it to his head.
“I doubt Ed would’ve —”
“He pulled the trigger.” Zachary looked down. “If you hadn’t unloaded the gun —”
“If we start playin’ a ‘what if’ game, we’d both be dead how many times over?”
The medic returned with a wet towel and scrubbed at the dried blood on Zachary’s neck. “Repeat this list after me: red, blue, car, bike, roses.”
“Can you give us a minute?” Zachary responded.
The paramedic frowned at him, then Molly. “One minute.” He passed the towel to Molly and hopped out of the ambulance.
“Was that ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Thank you’?”
“You’ll know when it’s ‘I’m sorry.’”
Molly joined him on the bench. Zachary leaned back against the ambulance wall and closed his eyes again. She gingerly wiped at the blood in his hair. He winced.
“Should I get the medic?”
“Just —” Without opening his eyes, he reached for her. She took his hand with her free one.
“I’m sorry I gave out to you earlier.” But had he actually changed his mind? She’d only saved his life in there.
He mumbled something unintelligible.
“Hilarious. You know I can’t hear you.”
His lips moved, but now she heard nothing. The hand holding his icepack drifted down to his side.
“Stop it.” She nudged him with her elbow. Instead of absorbing the blow, he slid to the side. “Zachary?”
His eyes fluttered open, but he made no move to catch himself. Molly grabbed his sweater to stop his fall. “Say somethin’.”
Zachary blinked slowly. He was speaking, but not loudly enough. His eyelids floated closed again.
Molly shook him. He moved a centimeter, then nothing. “Help! Medic!”
The paramedic vaulted into the ambulance, maneuvering past her. “What happened?”
“We were talkin’, and he passed out.”
The EMT paused long enough to cast her a wide-eyed stare. “How long since the injury? Did he lose consciousness before?”
“I don’t know, maybe. Would’ve been a good thirty minutes ago, or more.”
He turned back to Zachary, but Molly caught the concern in his expression. What had they said in first aid? This was . . . swelling on the brain?
Ice lanced through her. He wasn’t safe from the Canavans yet. People died from that.
The paramedic called another man to assist him. The second medic half-helped, half-pulled Molly from the ambulance.
Xavier jogged up to her. “What’s going on?”
“Zachary just passed out while we were talkin’.”
Xavier fell silent, watching the EMTs work on Zachary. “So you two are . . . ?” He trailed off into a question.
“No idea.” She was spared explaining further when one of the bomb technicians jogged over.
“Wasn’t a car bomb after all — just a bomb in the trunk.” He sighed. “What you get with unis.”
“Defused?” Xavier asked.
“Yep. Could’ve done it in our sleep — just a detonator and C-4. We’ll analyze it and figure out where it came from. The dogs haven’t found anything either, so it looks clear.”
The ambulance door slammed shut, drawing Molly’s attention. Worry invaded her stomach full force. “I’m goin’ with him.”
Xavier clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Listen. I didn’t cover him once tonight. Hate to make it twice. I saw him the last time you broke up, and . . . don’t mess with his head again.”
Mess with his head? If his head survived this trauma. She nodded and forced her way back into the ambulance.
A sharp pain in his hand woke him. Zach tried to pull away, blinking through the haze and fluorescent light. Where —?
“Good, you’re awake,” Lucy said. He turned toward her voice — he was in a hospital bed, one tilting him into a sitting position. Snatches of last night came back: the Canavans, Molly, the arrest. Was the case closed? Didn’t feel like it.
He looked back to Lucy sitting on the edge of his bed. She wouldn’t know about the Canavans — and she was holding his hand.
The hand that was still stinging. He jerked it away and whacked her arm. “That hurt.”
“The nurse said I could. Have to make sure you didn’t pass out again.”
He scowled at her. “I was sleeping.”
Lucy flashed an evil grin. “Unconscious is unconscious.”
Zach used a knee to shove her off the bed.
“Hey! I was up all night while you slept.” This time, she was the one doing the hitting. “You scared me half to death.”
“What happened?”
Lucy retold her night, starting after Paul left her place — which sounded like bad news to begin with, but he did remember that conversation. The hospital called her saying Zach was in and out of consciousness, and she’d sat through scans and hourly pain and reflex checks. Eventually they figured out it wasn’t too serious: no broken arteries, swelling that responded to drugs, and no visible damage. He’d probably be hearing jokes about how hardheaded he was long after he finished the course of anti-inflammatories.
“Basically,” Lucy concluded, “the doctors said, ‘The brain is a mystery,’ and yours reacted like a hysterical little girl.”
Zach scowled. “Next time you get the brain injury.”
“Like you’d come for me.”
“Come to think of it, maybe you do have a brain injury. Why are you and Paul back together?”
L
ucy looked away. “Hurts less to be together.”
Before he fired back, a movement near the door drew his attention. He turned — too fast, sending pain crackling up through his head.
Molly stood at the door.
He couldn’t let hope run away with him. His brain was sick enough already. “Lucy, am I seeing things?”
She checked the doorway. “Nothing there. Need a nurse?”
“Lucy.” Molly sounded like their mom breaking up a fight.
Lucy didn’t move. Alarm bells in his mind brought on a new layer of pain.
“Don’t go messin’ with his head.”
Finally his sister turned to Molly. “But it’s so easy,” Lucy said. She studied Molly a minute. “You okay?”
Zach locked back at Molly. A bruise bloomed beneath one eye, her eyelids drooped, and her curls sprawled all over the place when she shook her head. “Slept in the waitin’ room. Not well.”
Lucy turned to Zach, with a look that could only be described as oh-ho-ho? “Guess I’m not the only one with news.”
He cast a meaningful stare at the door.
“I’ll . . . get your breakfast.” She patted the rail of his hospital bed. “Good luck.” The words carried a grim note, but Zach wasn’t an idiot. He saw the little shoulder squeeze and eyebrow lift Lucy gave Molly.
And he saw the I’m-not-promising-anything-but-fingers-crossed smile for Molly’s answer.
Kissing Molly, one second from the night before, replayed in his mind. Was that last night?
“Glad to see you conscious.” Molly came to sit at the foot of his bed. “Gave us quite a scare.”
He summarized Lucy’s version of his medical history. When he finished, Molly shook her head in disbelief. “Someone’s watchin’ out for you.”
“Seems like it.”
“How much of last night do you remember?”
He wasn’t about to throw that last memory out there. “We stopped the Canavans, right?”
She sighed, and her shoulders dropped like that was a major weight off them “We did.”
“And they did that to you?” He tapped his own eye.
Molly carefully prodded her shiner, but nodded. “But my hearin’s mostly back. That all you’ve got?”
“You did great.”
“I saved your life,” she pointed out, “and all you can give is a ‘great’?”
He could definitely do better — because he could finally see she deserved it. “You were amazing. There’s nobody I’d rather have my back. I’m writing up another commendation the minute I get into the office. Seriously.”
“Another?” Molly tilted her chin to the side.
“Yeah, I wrote one yesterday. I didn’t tell you that?”
“No.”
He needed to make this right. Zachary met her eyes. “I’ve been a jerk. Obviously you’re a great FBI agent, or we’d both be dead. It shouldn’t have taken you saving my life for me to get my head on straight. I’m sorry.”
A slow smile crept across her face. Man, she was beautiful, black eye, crazy curls and all.
Maybe it wasn’t the case that felt off. It could definitely be something with Molly. He tried to replay the rest of last night, but his memories were a bad home movie on fast forward, juddery and out of focus. If Molly was here, something important was missing.
She plucked at his blanket. “I’m sorry I gave out to you last night. It was just that over the last four weeks, you’ve harped on any little mistake I’ve made and glossed over any successes.”
Zach cringed. The argument — pieces of it — echoed in his memory. “Sorry. I know I can’t hover over you every day of work. And you really were amazing last night. But I’m not going to apologize for wanting to protect —” He caught himself before he said someone I love. “ — you,” was the safest ending to that sentence. “It just means I care.”
Molly fixed her deep blue eyes on his. “I love you, Zachary.”
Was his mind playing tricks or —? He laughed. “What?”
“I love you?” Molly smiled, teasing. “This is when you say it back, and we live happily ever after.”
Oh, he wanted to say it back. But still loving Molly — even her loving him — didn’t mean anything had changed. No way had she crossed everything off her all-important to-do list in the last eight months. Zach pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “Where does that leave us?”
“I’m fed up with weddin’ plannin’, I’ll tell you that.”
Zach allowed a soft chuckle. “Grace is definitely fired.”
“That mass murder thing didn’t go with the theme anyway.”
She was letting him down easy. How soon could he get out of this situation? Considering it was his hospital room, it’d probably be a while.
“You were right.” Molly focused on his hands, her voice soft. “That was how I felt last year.” She paused, then corrected herself. “Last week.”
And now? Zach barely dared to ask himself.
“But, once I finished everythin’ I wanted to do, I imagined us together.”
“I was your backup plan?”
“More like a final destination. But Mum says once you find love, you should act. Before you lose it.” Molly focused on the pile of lint she’d collected. “I know how terrible that is.”
He wanted to marry Molly, but more than that, he wanted her to want to marry him, not just settle because he asked her. “So you’re willing to talk about marriage because breaking up sucks? I thought we were smarter, Lucy.”
“Thank you, Paul.” Molly leveled him with a sarcastic expression. “Can you not go spinnin’ my words?”
“Sorry; probably the meds talking.”
“Or the concussion.”
“Sure, blame the traumatic brain injury.” Zach smirked. “If you’re going to take advantage of a man in my condition, I’d rather you kiss me than question me.”
Molly allowed a reluctant laugh at his lame joke. Zach shifted closer, reaching across her to take her hand. He ran his other thumb along her unhurt cheek. “I do love you,” he whispered as he leaned in. “I never stopped, and I’ve wanted to marry you for more than a year.”
He held his breath. He’d finally admitted it, straight out. And this was her chance to run away screaming.
She studied his eyes, and one corner of her mouth lifted. “Then marry me, Zachary.”
“Because you don’t want to break up again?”
“Because I want you to be mine forever.” Molly crossed that last inch between them and kissed him. He slid his arms around her waist, and she drew back just long enough for a soft sigh. He pulled her closer, and she brought her lips to his again.
This time, he’d never have to let her go. This kiss seemed to carry all the meaning of last night’s kiss and more. Because this time it was real.
Until Lucy marched in. “Okay, Zach, we’re — oh. Sorry.”
Molly pulled back, covering her lips with her fingers, but she stayed curled up against his chest.
“I take it you guys have good news, too,” Lucy said with a wry smile. “I talked to the nurse and you’ve got one more CT scan. If it’s good, you could be out of here by nine.”
“Can I drive?”
“No.” Lucy folded her arms. “Doctor’s orders.”
Zach turned to Molly “Why don’t you run home and get some sleep? We’ll go to the parade later.”
Molly hesitated until he gave her an I’ll-be-fine nod. “Sure now.” She bid Lucy goodbye and winked at him. “Love you,” she mouthed from the door.
“Guess I’ll be the one giving you a ride home,” Lucy muttered.
He craned his neck to make sure Molly was gone — yep, that hurt. “Actually,” he said. “Could you do me — us — a favor? A few of them?”
Lucy folded her arms. “Like what?”
“Number one, I need to see Molly’s dad.”
His sister squinted at him, not comprehending for a long second. Then the realizat
ion hit her, and she brightened with a gasp. “You do have good news. Wait, you’re not supposed to make legally binding decisions for twenty-four hours.”
“Don’t worry. I made this decision a long time ago.” Zach eased back against the bed. Everything was finally, perfectly right. So why did he feel like he was forgetting something, something more specific than “most of last night”?
With Lucy’s help, Zach finished a CT scan, hospital paperwork, stopping by Molly’s parents’, and making arrangements for the rest of their afternoon by the time he arrived at Molly’s at eleven.
Molly answered the door with a frown. “What’re you doin’ here, Zachary?”
“Aren’t we going to the parade?” They’d decided that on the phone an hour ago . . . hadn’t they?
“Are we? Jason’s out of town. Can’t let Grace see you.”
Oh no. No, no, no. He had a brain injury, but could he have actually manufactured memories? Whole conversations? If the arrests hadn’t happened, what else was he imagining — everything? When Molly said she loved him?
No, he couldn’t have imagined everything — she had a black eye. Slowly, Molly’s confused gloom melted into a smile. “You should see your face.”
“You can’t mess with a guy with a head injury.” Zach didn’t relax until she slid her arms around his waist and kissed him. Technically they’d only been dating a few hours, but she already felt perfect, comfy and familiar, in his arms. Like coming home after being away way too long. “We did say we were going to the parade, right?”
“We did.”
He traced a finger over her bruised cheek and breathed in the relief. How had things fallen into place so fast?
Fast? He almost laughed at himself. He’d been waiting a year for this. Now just one piece was missing. “I got you something. Bur first, we’ve got a big day. Starting with the parade.”
A grin danced in her eyes. “Let me get my jacket.” Molly retrieved her green wool jacket, appropriate for a Saint Patrick’s Day parade.
“Want to hit Navy Pier afterwards?” Zach called.
“Navy Pier?” Molly repeated, like she was pondering it.
“Or anything else out that way. Good thing it’s all clear, right?”
Saints & Suspects Page 30
