Bailey neared the corner store. Across the street was a shiny white Mercedes with its headlights on. Bailey watched it for a moment as she reached for the door. A bell jangled as she entered the store, and she nodded at the shopkeeper on her way to the back. She picked up a bag of cat food and paused in front of the beer section.
She owed Jacob an apology. Maybe she should swing by his house. Or invite him over. She grabbed a chilled six-pack of Shiner Bock, then checked her phone as she set the groceries on the counter.
Still no messages.
“No Powerball tonight?” the clerk asked her.
“Nope.”
“Eight million.”
“Maybe next time.”
He clucked his disapproval as he rang her up, and she balanced her groceries in one arm as she opened the door with another jangle. The Mercedes was still there, no lights now, and something about it seemed familiar. She tried to place where she’d seen it.
Bailey’s phone vibrated. Her heart lurched, and she balanced the cat food on her hip as she pulled the phone from her jeans.
Jacob.
Pain seared up her arm as someone twisted it and slammed her against a wall, smacking her face against the brick.
A hand slapped over her mouth as she tried to scream. Her knees buckled, but something sharp pinned her in place as all her groceries fell. Her body jerked backward and then forward as someone shoved her into the alley and slammed her against another wall.
Bailey’s face burned. Her cheek was pressed against the hard brick as she struggled to breathe. Pain shot up her arm, and a hard knee jabbed into her lower back.
“You lying little bitch.” The voice was low and raspy.
Bailey’s arm twisted again, and the zing of pain nearly blinded her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t breathe. She felt like her arm was being wrenched from its socket and she tried to crane her head around.
Fingernails dug into her face as the hand squeezed her mouth shut.
“You sneaky, lying bitch!”
Spittle misted her face, and Bailey tried to see the person behind her. It was a woman. She was strong and had fingers like talons. Her sharp knee dug into Bailey’s tailbone.
Lucinda.
Bailey’s heart jackhammered. She tried to get a breath. Her shoulder was on fire, and those fingernails cut into her cheek. Bailey reared her head back, desperate to breathe.
“Don’t make a sound.”
The grip on her mouth loosened a fraction, and Bailey sucked in air. Relief flooded through her, but then something cold and hard pressed against the back of her neck.
“I could blow your head off right now. You realize that?” The voice was low and scratchy. It sounded like Lucinda, but different somehow. Disconnected.
The muzzle of the gun pressed harder against her neck.
“I need to know one thing. Just one.” She eased closer, and Bailey smelled her sweat. A memory flashed into her brain: the white Mercedes in the parking garage at Granite Tech. It was Lucinda’s. So, she’d driven over here, but she was sweaty and amped up as though she’d just run a sprint.
“Who else knows?”
Bailey’s mind reeled. She tried to process the question.
“Who?”
The hand over her mouth loosened.
“I . . . don’t understand,” Bailey croaked.
Pain seared her shoulder joint as Lucinda twisted her arm tighter.
“Who besides you?”
Bailey didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The question made no sense. Lucinda was unhinged. Bailey managed to turn her head a fraction.
Lucinda’s hair was a wild mane around her head. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and frantic.
“Who knows what?” Bailey asked.
The eyes bulged. “Don’t play dumb with me, you little bitch. You think I don’t know? You think I don’t have eyes and ears everywhere? My security chief followed you out the other night!”
Pain shot up her arm as she twisted it again.
“You and Seth think you’re so smart together, don’t you? But I’ve been doing this five years. I’m committed! You think you can just come along with your fucking press pass and ruin everything? My daughter is alive. Do you hear me? And you won’t stop me from finding her.”
The muzzle of the gun dug harder into Bailey’s neck and she stifled a yelp. Maybe she should scream. Or kick. But Lucinda seemed just desperate enough, just crazy enough, to pull the trigger.
Bailey turned slightly, trying to make eye contact, hoping eye contact might snap her back to reality.
“I . . . It’s just Seth and me. That’s it.”
The blue eyes narrowed. Bailey took in Lucinda’s frizzy hair and her flushed skin. She wore a black T-shirt, and the neck was torn as though she’d been in a fight. Tiny red flecks dotted her cheek.
She smiled slowly. “I’m not worried about Seth now. Who else?”
Bailey’s stomach filled with dread as she looked at the red flecks. Blood. Had she shot someone at close range?
Adrenaline zinged through her like an electric current. Bailey stomped as hard as she could and flung her elbow back, then ducked and spun away. Lucinda tripped backward, but then she was on her again like a lamprey, and Bailey saw a flash of black as the gun came up.
Screaming, Bailey batted her arm away.
Pop!
Grit stung her eyes as the bullet ricocheted off the wall. Shrieking, Bailey spun toward Lucinda and batted her arm again, and the pistol flew from her hand and skittered across the pavement. Bailey lunged away, bumping into a trash can, and it went over like cymbals clanging. Bailey tripped over the bag of cat food and fell to her knees. She spied the six-pack of beer on its side. She grabbed a bottle, then turned and hurled it at Lucinda’s head just as she snatched up the gun. The bottle shattered as Bailey turned and sprinted for the street.
Pop!
Lightning-hot pain knocked her feet out from under her. She crashed to her hands and knees.
“Police! Stop!”
Bailey crawled toward the street as footsteps slapped against the pavement behind her.
“Nooo!”
Lucinda’s keening wail reached her, but all Bailey could think about was getting away. Fire burned her leg, and Bailey clutched it. She tried to stand, but her legs didn’t work, and she landed on her palms again. Her hands were red with blood. The pavement, too.
“Bailey!”
Jacob dropped to his knees beside her.
“Call 911!” he shouted at someone.
“Lucinda—” she gasped.
“We got her.”
Bailey looked over her shoulder to see a uniformed cop hunched over Lucinda. She was facedown on the pavement with her arms cuffed behind her back as the cop roughly patted her down.
“She shot you, babe.”
Bailey looked at Jacob as he stripped off his T-shirt. Sweat streamed down his face. He wrapped the shirt around her leg just below the knee, and Bailey slumped against the wall. She felt dizzy. Disoriented.
Jacob tied the shirt and pulled it tight.
“Ahh!”
“Sorry.” He looked at her. “We’ve got an ambulance coming.”
Bailey’s mind reeled from the burning pain. Her vision went gray around the edges. She leaned her head against the wall and felt her heart hammering, tha-thump tha-thump tha-thump, as she tried to catch her breath.
“What . . . how . . . ?”
Jacob picked up her hand and squeezed it. His fingers were red and slippery, like hers.
She looked up at him, and his deep brown eyes were intent on hers.
“Hold on.” He kissed her forehead. “Okay?”
“Don’t leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m scared.” She squeezed harder. “Don’t
leave.”
“I won’t.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
SHE DRIFTED IN and out. The room was dim. Each time she opened her eyes, Jacob was a dark silhouette in the chair. Then she’d let her eyes close again.
And then she was sailing. It was sunset, and she was with her dad cutting across the shimmery waters of Laguna Madre on the Mary Alice. The sail caught a gust and the boat tipped. Bailey grabbed a cleat to keep from sliding. She tried to hang on, but the boat kept tipping and her grip wouldn’t hold. She called for her dad, but he wasn’t there.
Bailey shifted in the bed. The room was brighter now. Colder. She heard voices in the hallway.
Jacob sat forward.
“Hey,” he said.
She tried to speak, but her throat felt raw.
Jacob took her hand. “How do you feel?”
“Weird.”
“You’re still doped up.”
“I’m thirsty.”
He reached for a pink plastic pitcher with a lid. It had a big plastic straw poking out of it, and he lifted it to her mouth and positioned the straw so she could sip.
Grape juice. And crushed ice. Memories flooded her of hot summer days playing in the sprinkler with her sisters. Their mom would leave a pitcher of purple juice on the porch. Bailey guzzled down the liquid until her throat felt numb.
“Careful or you’ll get a head freeze,” Jacob said.
“It’s so good.” She pulled back. “Where did you get it?”
“Your sister brought it.” He set the drink on the table by the bed. “There’s a kitchen at the end of the hallway.”
Bailey looked him over now, more alert from the cold juice. Dark stubble covered his jaw, and his hair looked like he’d run his hand through way too many times. His deep brown eyes rested on hers as he took her hand again.
Everything came back.
He’d ridden in the ambulance even after the paramedic said he couldn’t. He’d stayed with her in the ER and talked to her, only letting go of her hand when they’d wheeled her back for surgery.
Bailey looked at her leg. It was in a blue cast on top of the blanket.
She had a broken tibia. And it had been a through-and-through bullet. That was the good part, supposedly. When she’d first heard GSW flying back and forth, she had wanted to throw up.
Jacob lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’m glad you’re awake.”
She looked down at her thin hospital gown and knew she must look horrible. She could only imagine her hair.
“Thanks for staying with me.” She cleared her throat. “What happened last night?”
He sighed.
“Tell me all of it.”
He reached over and brushed the hair from her forehead. “We arrested Lucinda Oberhoff.”
“How did you know she’d be there? Right near my house?”
“We came looking for you.”
Something tugged at Bailey’s mind as she stared at him. Something vague and elusive that wouldn’t snap into focus. She remembered blood droplets. She remembered spittle hitting her face. She remembered Lucinda’s crazed eyes.
“Seth.”
He nodded. “Some people at his condominium reported a gunshot. Officers showed up and found him bleeding from a gunshot wound.”
“Is he—”
“He didn’t make it. Died en route to the hospital.”
Bailey’s chest clenched. She closed her eyes.
“He told the first responder about Lucinda. He said she was coming after you.”
Bailey’s chest clenched again, and she squeezed her eyes tighter.
What could she have done differently? She should have told Seth to take his story to the police. Or take precautions. Or something. Anything. She hadn’t grasped the danger.
She opened her eyes as Hannah strode into the room.
“You’re awake. Finally!” Her sister wore her blue scrubs and had her nurse’s badge clipped to her waist. She smiled at Bailey and her gaze dropped to Jacob’s hand clasped around hers.
“You thirsty?” she asked. “We have juice.”
“I drank it.”
She went to the other side of the bed and picked up Bailey’s wrist to check her pulse.
“You’re not my nurse, are you?”
She gave her a lopsided smile. “No. I’m just checking. This morning you’ve got Shelby, so you’re in excellent hands.”
Hannah released her wrist and pulled a clipboard off a hook on the wall. That would be Bailey’s chart, and her sister read it with a carefully neutral expression.
“So.” Bailey braced herself. “How am I doing?”
She hesitated a split second. “Good.”
Bailey shot her a look. “Could you be more specific?”
She rested her hand on her hip. “Dr. Chan is the best orthopedic surgeon in town. He put two pins in your leg.”
“I thought they said I needed one?”
“He decided on two once he got in there.” She turned and replaced the chart. “The wound looks good so far and shows no sign of infection.”
Two pins.
Bailey’s chest felt tight again.
“You scared the hell out of us.” Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes. “You know that, right? I was getting off my shift when they called me.” She shook her head. “Mom flipped out when she heard. She wanted to drive up here, but I downplayed everything and talked her off the ledge. I knew you wouldn’t want her leaving Dad to come here and fret over you.”
“Thanks.”
Hannah walked around and picked up the juice. “Want more?”
Jacob stood. “I’ll get it.” He took the pitcher, looking relieved to have a reason to step out and give them some privacy.
Hannah watched him leave and then sat down on the edge of the bed.
“Did anyone feed Boba Fett?” Bailey asked.
“I went by on my way in.”
“Thank you.”
Hannah leaned closer. “Bailey, what the hell? How did all this happen?”
“I don’t really know.”
“This was some woman you’re covering?”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes and felt a headache coming on. “She’s been arrested.”
“Jacob told me.”
Bailey opened her eyes.
“Thanks for talking to Mom.”
“Sure.” Hannah’s eyes welled with tears again and she glanced at the door. “You know, the overnight nurse said Jacob didn’t leave your side once. Not even to eat. He spent the night in that chair.”
Bailey looked at the door.
“He seems like a stand-up guy,” Hannah said.
“He is.”
Hannah patted her hand as another nurse bustled into the room. She wore green scrubs with yellow emojis all over them.
“She’s up,” Hannah said brightly.
“I see that.” The nurse wrote on the whiteboard with a marker and then picked up Bailey’s chart.
Bailey’s gaze fell on a pair of crutches propped against the wall, and a ball of dread filled her stomach. She took a deep breath and looked at the nurse. “How long will I be on crutches?”
“The doctor said six to eight weeks. And we’ll get you started on some physical therapy.”
Eight weeks! How would she work? Or row? Or even walk around? Tears stung her eyes and she looked at Hannah.
“I’m going to get fired,” she said.
“No, you won’t.”
“How will I do anything? I won’t be able to drive.”
“It’s not as long as it sounds.”
Bailey laughed through her tears. “It sounds like shit.” She lifted the neck of her hospital gown and dabbed her eyes. “Sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed.”
Hannah
smiled with sympathy.
The nurse walked out as Jacob returned with the pink pitcher. He set it on the table, and Bailey heard the ice sloshing.
“Thanks,” she told him. Instead of resuming his place in the chair, he leaned back against the wall.
Bailey took a deep breath and looked at Hannah. “So, when can I go home?”
“If Chan clears you, probably tomorrow.”
Thank God.
“You can stay with us for a while,” Hannah said.
“Why?”
“You’re got all those stairs at your place.”
Bailey hadn’t even thought about the stairs. “My building has an elevator.” It even worked sometimes.
Hannah patted her hand. “It’d be easier to stay with us, for at least the first few weeks. I’ll set up a room for you. Drew can sleep in ours.”
“I really don’t want you to go to all that trouble.”
“It’s not trouble.”
“You just got him sleeping on his own. And you work night shifts. I don’t want to disrupt your whole house.”
“You can stay with me,” Jacob said.
Bailey and Hannah both turned to look at him. His attention was locked on Bailey.
“Thanks, but that’s totally unnecessary.”
He folded his arms. “David Langham hasn’t been arrested yet.”
Hannah frowned. “Who’s that?”
He kept his eyes on Bailey’s. “A hit man who killed a woman at the lake.”
Her sister’s mouth fell open.
“He wouldn’t come after me,” Bailey said.
“You don’t know that.”
“Jacob, get real.”
“It would be wise for you to stay somewhere else for a while,” he said. “At least until he’s in custody.”
Hannah stood up. “I’ll let you two talk.”
She left the room and Bailey turned to Jacob. “Great. Now she’s terrified. You did that on purpose.”
He sat in the chair again and scooted close to her.
“There’s no reason for David Langham to come looking for me,” she told him. “I thought you said the job was over, and his goal now is to evade police?”
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