by Nora Roberts
stitching looked at the surgeon.
“She’s doing a good job, just give her a few more minutes. I’ll check on Ms. Carson.”
Before he could, Mason came in. “How’s it going?”
“Both patients are doing well. One more cooperative than the other.”
“Where is she? How is she? Fuck! Are you mining for gold in my scalp?”
“They’re working on her. But she’s going to be fine. It was through-and-through. Through her, into Tag.”
“Your evidence, Special Agent.”
“Thanks.” Mason took the dish with the spent bullet.
“She lost a lot of blood, and a bullet never does you a favor, but it didn’t hit any organs. Just the meat. They’re going to want to keep her overnight. Probably want to do the same with you.”
Xander readied for battle if need be, because his mind was set. “I’m staying with her. So’s the dog.”
“Already arranged. Are you up to giving me a statement? It can wait.”
“I’m okay. Just tell me, where’s this Chaffins now?”
“In a cell in Sunrise Cove, but officially in federal custody. He’s been examined by a doctor, and his injuries treated. Among other things, you broke his nose, knocked out three of his teeth, cracked a couple ribs.”
“Did I?” Xander looked down at his hand, flexed his aching fingers, his raw and swollen knuckles.
“Thanks. I know you love her, but I loved her first, so thanks for saving my sister’s life.”
“No problem.”
Mason pulled up a stool. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
He ran it through.
“I should’ve seen it coming. I did see it, but too late. I actually bought the little-Bobby-in-the-backseat bullshit. And when I came to, I knew he’d gone after her. I called you while I drove back. Pulled in behind his damn camper, ran for the house. I heard the gunshot.”
He stopped, closed his eyes. “I heard the shot. I heard her scream. When I ran in he was standing over her, ranting, had the gun pointed at her head. I pulled him off, beat him unconscious. She and the dog were lying there, bleeding. So much blood. I grabbed a couple of dish towels and put pressure on her side—like they always say you’re supposed to. It hurt her. I hurt her.”
“He hurt her,” Mason corrected.
—
She dreamed she swam, slow and lazy, through the palest of pale blue water. Surfaced and floated, skimmed under to glide. Up and down, in and out, with everything warm and watery.
Once in the dream, beavers cut down trees with chain saws, deep, rhythmic buzzing. She surfaced, thought she saw the dog snoring away on a cot beside her.
She laughed in her sleep—heard Xander’s voice. Wouldn’t mind some of whatever they gave you.
And smiling, slid under again.
She thought of moonlight falling in slants over the bed, how it felt to make love with him over and under those moonlit slants.
Opening her eyes, she saw it was sunlight, sliding through the slats over the window.
“There she is. Are you staying with me this time around?”
She turned her head, met Xander’s eyes.
He looked so tired, she thought, and pale under the scruff. Bruised—badly—on the temple.
“We . . . had an accident.”
“Not exactly.”
“I can’t remember what . . .” She turned her head again, saw Tag watching her from a cot. “He is sleeping on a cot. And we’re . . . we’re in the hospital. He shot me. He shot us.”
“Simmer down.” Xander pressed a hand on her shoulder, kept her in place. “Anson Chaffins.”
“Yes. Yes, I remember. I remember all of it. He got in the house.”
“Bedroom. You let the dog out, he waited, came in that way, caught you in the kitchen. Mason said you went to school with him.”
“Yes. He was a year ahead of me. I only got to know him for a few months—yearbook committee, school newspaper. But he was with me when I found my mother. He said—he told me—it was his revelation. He said it was wiring, he and my father, both born to be what they are. And seeing my mother’s body opened things up for him. Excited him. All this time . . .”
“Don’t worry about it now.”
“How bad am I hurt? Don’t sugarcoat it.”
“Well, baby, they did the best they could.” And laughed when her mouth fell open. “That ought to cure some of that pessimism. You’re fine. As fine as anybody who’s been shot. Hit your left side, just above the waist, pinched right through, and straight into the dog’s right hindquarters. He’s fine, too. I’m saying right now, no Cone of Shame, not for him.”
“No Cone of Shame.” She reached out, stroked the dog. “Not ever. He can have the Pants of Heroism.”
“You jumped in front of the dog, didn’t you? He was going to shoot the dog, and you jumped in front of him.”
“Wouldn’t you have done the same?”
“Yeah.” Shakier than he wanted to be, Xander blew out a breath. “Yeah, probably. Idiots.”
“How did you get hurt? Your head. You were covered with blood.”
“Head wounds bleed a lot.”
“He was the call—that’s it. The breakdown. It was him. He could’ve killed you.”
“He didn’t.”
“He could have—”
“He didn’t. Get used to it.” He pulled her hand to his lips, held it there, rocked for a moment. “I’ve still got to get used to him nearly killing you—but not. We’re both right here. Jesus, Naomi. Jesus, I didn’t know I could be that scared and live through it. I didn’t know how bad it was. I couldn’t tell, just you lying there, and the blood.”
“Did you save me?”
He pressed his lips to her hand again. “You’d have done the same for me.”
“Yeah. Probably. We’re both right here.” She smiled as Tag nosed under her other hand. “We’re all three right here. And Chaffins?”
“In custody. I don’t know where they’re taking him, probably later today. News is all over. I spent some time reading on my phone last night. It’s all over the news. They broke your connection to Bowes. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. I should never have let it matter so much. How long do I have to stay in here? I want to go home.”
“They’ll want to look you over, but they said you could probably go home today.”
“I need to go home, Xander, but I need to see him first. I need to see Chaffins. I never saw or spoke to my father, but I’m going to see and speak to Chaffins.”
“Okay. Let’s see about getting you out of here, and see what Mason can do.”
It took two hours, a lot of paperwork, a lot of warnings, and she had to leave in a wheelchair, use a side entrance where Mason had a car waiting.
He helped her stand, then just held her. “You’ve looked better.”
“I’ve felt better.”
With his help she eased into the car while Xander and Tag took the backseat.
“The press are all over town. If you do this, you can’t avoid them completely.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“He had a press pass,” Mason said as he drove. “He came to briefings, booked a motel room—though he stayed in the camper, too. Even when he wasn’t using it for other reasons.”
Just a smart, nerdy kid who’d gone to a school dance with her, who’d put a couple clumsy moves on her, easily brushed off.
And a monster, all along.
“He held his victims there—like Bowes and the cellar.”
“Yeah. Different campgrounds, different names. He’s collected several IDs over the last several years. He’s got skills, computer skills.”
“He always did.”
“He kept a log of his victims—names, locations, dates. He has photos of them. We’ve got enough evidence to put him away for a dozen lifetimes. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”
“I’m not. I won’t. You�
�ve told the uncles I’m okay.”
“Yeah, I talked to them. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t want them to. I’ll call them as soon as I get home.”
“Then you’re taking one of those pills,” Xander said, “and zoning out.”
“I probably won’t argue about that one. Are you still going to see Bowes?”
“I will.” Mason nodded. “But it can wait.”
He drove into town, pulled into the slot closest to the station house they’d cleared for him. The minute Xander helped Naomi out of the car, reporters rushed toward them, shouting.
“Tag, too. He should see the dog, too.”
Sam Winston opened the door for them, stepped out.
“Every one of you keep back, and stop yelling or I’ll have every last one of you arrested for disturbing the peace. This is my town, and I’ll do it.”
He closed the door, took Naomi’s hand. “This is your town, too. Are you feeling up to this? You’re certain?”
“Yes. It won’t take long.”
Not so different, she thought, no, not so different, from that police station so long ago. They’d have put her father in one of the cells in the back, behind the steel door.
“Mason, Xander, and Tag. All of us.”
It hurt to keep her back straight, but she’d deal with it. She needed to walk in, unbowed. When she did, Chaffins rolled off the bunk where he’d sprawled. And, despite the blackened eyes, the bruised, swollen, and taped nose, the split lip, he smiled, showing gaps from missing teeth.
“Kid brother, grease monkey, and your little dog, too. Afraid of me, Naomi?”
“Not in the least. I just wanted us all to have a look at you in what’s now your natural habitat.”
“I’ll get out,” he snapped as Tag growled low in his throat.
“No, you won’t.”
“I’ll get out, and come for you. You’ll always look over your shoulder.”
“No, I won’t.” She laid a hand on Xander’s arm, felt it vibrate. “Would you give us a minute?”
“Sure.” But Xander stepped up to the cell first, whipped a hand through quick as a snake, rapped Chaffins against the bars. She couldn’t hear what Xander murmured in his ear, but it drained the color from Chaffins’s face.
“Fuck you! I should’ve beat you to fucking death.”
“But you didn’t,” Xander said easily, and, stepping back, looked at Naomi. “You don’t move from this spot unless it’s back.”
“Don’t worry.” She took his hand, kissed his bruised knuckles. “You, too, Mason. Just for one minute.”
“I’m on the door,” he said.
Naomi waited, studying Chaffins, seeing the boy he’d once been, the monster he was.
“They might write books about you.”
“Damn right, they will.”
“Even make movies. You can have the sick glory your kind enjoys. I’m fine with that. But you and I, and everyone else, will know that when you came for me, you lost. You lost, Chaffins. I put my father in a cell, and he once meant something to me. Now I’ve put you in one, and you mean nothing.”
“You got lucky. Next time—”
“Dream about it. I hope you do. Every cold, dark night, dream about me.”
“You’ll dream about me.”
“No. I’ll forget you, just like I forgot you years ago. I’m the daughter of a monster. Monsters don’t scare me. Come on, Tag. Let’s go get you a Milk-Bone.”
“Come back here! You come back here, I’m not finished with you.”
“But I’m finished with you.”
She kept walking.
“Feel better?” Xander asked her.
“Yes. Yes, I do. But oh God, I’ll feel better once I get home and take that pill.”
She closed her eyes on the drive so she could focus on pushing through the pain. She had only to get home now, let everything go.
She breathed out relief when the car stopped. “Definitely drugs, but I’d really like to sit—sprawl out on the deck for— Whose car is that?”
Before Mason could speak, the front door of her house flew open.
“Oh God. Oh God.” Tears spilled as Seth yanked open her door.
“Don’t you think about getting out by yourself. I’m going to carry you.”
“You came, you’re here. You’re both here. How? No, you can’t carry me. I can walk.”
“You’re not walking anywhere.” Harry eyeballed Xander. “You’re Xander?”
“Yeah. I’ve got her.”
To settle it, Xander slid his arm under her legs, wrapped the other around her back, gently lifted her.
“Take her right up to bed. We’ve got it all ready for her.”
“No, please. I’m okay. I’d really like to sit out on the deck. I need to hug both of you.”
“I’ll get pillows.” Seth rushed off.
“I made pink lemonade, remember?”
“With crushed ice.” She took Harry’s hand as Xander carried her. “When did you come? How did you get here so fast?”
“Private jet. We’ve got connections. My baby girl,” he murmured, kissed her hand. “Your people said we could come in, Mason. They’d cleared it. And you’d gotten a crew in to . . .”
“Yeah. It’s clean,” he said to Naomi.
By the time they got her to the deck, Seth was fussing with pillows, with a light throw. And had a little vase of flowers on the small table.
“There now, set her right down.” As Xander did, Seth went down on his knees, wrapped arms around her. “My sweetheart, my baby.”
“Don’t cry, don’t cry. I’m okay.”
“She needs a pill. I’m sorry,” Xander added, “but she really needs the pain pill.”
“I’ll get you some lemonade to wash it down. Do you want lemonade?” Harry asked Xander.
“I’d about kill for a beer.”
“I’m going to get you a beer. Mason?”
“I have to go. I’ll be back, but I have to go right now.”
“You be here for dinner. I’m going to make something spectacular.”
As Harry hurried inside, Seth pushed to his feet. Still weeping, he turned, enfolded Xander.
“Ah.” Xander looked into Naomi’s wet, smiling eyes. “Okay.”
“You are now and forevermore a hero to me.” Sniffling, Seth stepped back. “She is the light of my life. She and Mason are the lights of our lives.”
“She brightens up mine, too.”
