by Blake Pierce
Laura didn’t have time to register how badly her arm was bleeding or how much it hurt. She yanked with her feet again, pulling one of her own legs back up toward herself, knocking him further backward. He hit the coffee table again, dislodging a rain of coasters and old magazines and the bottle of beer Thomas had been drinking.
Ed snarled as he looked down on her, recovering his balance enough to plunge forward, the knife outstretched in his hand. He had her now. She was trapped, pinned down—he lunged downward—
Laura twisted to the side, but it wasn’t enough. She didn’t have enough leverage, enough room to get out from under him. But the trick with the coffee table had given her what she needed to stop the knife plunging into her heart. Instead, it hit her ribs, glancing off them. Ed left it stuck in her, like it was all over.
“I’ve got you now, Agent Frost,” he croaked, his voice calling as if from the grave. “Now all that’s left for you to do is die.”
And he was right. She wasn’t fatally wounded, but that didn’t matter. She would bleed out here, from her arm and her side, and Ed wouldn’t let her get help. It would be slow, and maybe he would get impatient and speed things up a little, raining down more wounds on her exhausted body. But it was a sure thing. She was going to die.
The gloating smile on his face showed her he was sure he had won.
But he didn’t know she had backup.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Laura felt the shadow of death filling the room. It made her as sick as the pain did. Burning in her arm, her ribs. It was so close and so strong that she couldn’t even work out where it was coming from. From Ed? From herself?
But then she saw a flicker of silent movement over Ed’s shoulder, and she knew.
Nate was here, and the shadow of death around him was so strong she could feel it even without a touch. This was it. This was the moment that he died.
Nate made some kind of noise, kicked some small thing that had fallen off the coffee table and rolled toward the door, hard to see in the dark. Within a flash, Ed’s sneer was no longer above her face, and Laura realized that he had snatched up the gun and moved quick as lightning.
He stood above her now, facing Nate. Her gun in his hand. Pointing at her partner.
“Looks like the cavalry’s here,” Ed rasped, and Laura could see him now: her brave, loyal, strong partner, holding his gun up in front of him, the two of them locked in a Mexican standoff.
“Drop the weapon,” Nate barked. He was steady and true, but Ed was unhinged. He had his revenge. There was no way to know if he cared about his life anymore.
“You first, Agent,” Ed said. “Or your partner here doesn’t get the help she needs to survive.”
Laura saw with absolute clarity how it would play out. She didn’t need a vision. She knew Nate too well. He was going to look at her and see the blood, and he was going to put down his gun. Just like she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Ed wouldn’t play fair.
The second Nate let down his guard, Ed would kill him.
The shadow filled the whole room, making it hard for her to concentrate on anything else. The air was thick with it, like it was a visceral smoke she would breathe in when she inhaled. It was happening now.
She couldn’t let Nate die here.
Laura found some last reserve of strength, reached with her right hand for the blade that was still sticking just out of her ribs. She grabbed it, gasped with pain and the renewed spurt of her blood as she pulled it out. She couldn’t wait. Couldn’t let the pain take over. Couldn’t acknowledge that yes, in return for saving Nate’s life, she might be ending her own.
She sat up. She stumbled to one knee, then the other. She pushed herself upright. Her vision went black for a moment, but she fought through the nausea, the dizziness, the pain.
She brought her right arm up, and just as Ed’s muscles moved, signifying his hand tightening around the gun, she stabbed the knife into his back.
Her aim was true. She knew the right angles to use, had been through all of the training. She didn’t hit a rib. She hit his heart. She twisted the knife as she dragged it down, opening it up wider, causing more damage.
The first thing she felt was the warmth of his blood, splattered over her and beginning to pour down from the gaping wound in his back.
The second was the weight of his body as he fell backwards onto her, pinning her back to the floor.
And the third was relief, when she heard Nate calling her name and rushing to her side.
***
“You’re lucky,” the doctor said, which made Laura want to laugh in his face. “With these stitches, I don’t think you’re going to have a scar on your arm. Just make sure to keep it clean, and get yourself to your local hospital next week for a check-up. As for the wound on your side, it will take a little longer to heal, and you’ll have a scar—but it’s sewn up and clean, so if you keep it that way, I don’t foresee any complications.”
“I know the drill,” Laura said, which was unfortunately true.
“Better than most,” Nate added. She was grateful for the backup. “Thanks, Doc. She going to need anything else?”
“That should do it.” The doctor nodded, moving to the door of the private room. “When you’re ready, you should be good to check out.”
“Thanks,” Laura said, belatedly, as the door closed. She felt like her timing was a little off; lag, maybe, from all the visions and the headaches and the physical fight. She’d come straight to the hospital from the scene, no time for a break or decompression, and it had been a whirlwind of assessment and stitches and blood transfusions. And all the rest. The fear for Nate. For Amy. The need for a drink. The need, always unfulfilled, to see Lacey.
It was a wonder she wasn’t permanently lagged.
“How are you doing?” Nate asked, seeming to read her mind. He stood awkwardly by the bed, his arms folded across his chest.
“I could do with sleeping for a week,” Laura said. “How did it go while I was getting my stitches?”
“Sheriff’s handling the crime scene.” Nate shrugged. “Bronston didn’t tell Thomas anything. Looks like he was just… insane. Like you said. Targeting you. He must have fooled the psychiatric tests to get himself released. We’ve got local cops going to examine his apartment, see if they can find anything else, but it seems like everything is just about wrapped up.”
“That’s good,” Laura said. She rested her head back against the pillows, wishing she could stay longer. She had only been at the hospital a few hours, but if the doctor said she was well enough to travel, then she was well enough. Still, she could sleep on the plane. Then at home, hopefully. She would get a day off to cope with the injury, at the very least.
And mandatory counseling to deal with having stabbed a perp to death. Laura didn’t want to think about that. She’d have to deal with it when it came to it.
“Look, uh…” Nate hesitated, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching for her hand. Laura flinched it away, trying to pretend that she was coincidentally just getting up as he sat down, swinging herself around to sit facing in the opposite direction. “Laura, you just did it again.”
“Did what?” she asked, reaching for her watch from the surface by the bed and busying herself with doing up the strap. She couldn’t bear for him to touch her. She didn’t want to know. She was so afraid. She had always felt the shadow of death was further off, not gathering pace with the investigation. And if she hadn’t just saved his life from the real danger…
She couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to feel that shadow of death hanging on him again. Not yet.
“Avoided me.” Nate sighed. “You’ve been acting weird this whole case. And that’s saying something, because you’re always weird as hell.”
Laura flinched again—at his words, this time. His opinion mattered to her. Hearing him describe her that way, like he saw her just as everyone else did…
“Which is one of the things I like about you,” Nate add
ed quickly, reacting to her expression. “I like that you have that mysterious edge, that you’re different from other agents. I love that we can trust each other. It’s just that, this time… I’m worried about you.”
“I’m just a little sore,” she said, making to hop off the bed.
“Laura.” Nate’s voice was hard and flat. It was unusual enough for him that she froze and looked at him, turning over her own shoulder. “Stop. I… I’ve known for a while that the things you do are… strange. The insights you get. You always chalk it up to luck, but it’s just not possible for that to be the case so often. I don’t know how you know, but you know things I don’t. Things no one knows.”
Laura bit her lip. “Nate,” she said, shaking her head, her voice cracking. “I can’t—”
“I know you don’t want to tell me,” Nate said. His voice was steady and soft, washing over her. “I’m a patient man. I can wait. But if we’re going to stay partners, you need to let me in. Sooner or later, you have to let me in.”
Laura’s shoulders slumped. Privately, though she wasn’t going to admit it out loud, she knew he was right. She had lost partners before because she would not open up. They had become suspicious of her, in the end, thinking that she had some confidential informant or other trick up her sleeve that she wasn’t letting them in on. They would grow jealous, call her a bitch who was only out to further her own career. Then it would be over.
Nate was different, had always been different. They had managed to get along this far. But she had always known, at the back of her mind, that this day would probably come. Maybe it was time. Maybe telling him now would be the right thing to do.
Nate’s hand landed on her shoulder, and even though Laura froze in anticipation of that awful shadow of death coating everything around her, it was faint this time. Soft and indistinct, like gauze. Disappointment was tempered with relief. She had somehow managed to delay it, to push it further off in to the future. But still, it was there. The sickening reminder that he was going to die.
That’s why I can’t tell him.
And a second wave washed over her, the feeling coming on thicker and murkier than before, like someone had thrown a heavy curtain across the window.
“I’ll see you outside,” Nate said, getting up and taking his hand away. The color returned to the room, and Laura gulped in a breath as he left her on her own.
Laura pushed her hands against her forehead, trying to keep down a burst of nausea. What did this all mean? She’d been considering telling him, and the shadow had eased off a little. But the moment she decided not to, it had come back in full force.
Was he supposed to know?
Was telling him about her ability the one thing she would be able to do to change his fate—and save his life?
She picked up her cell phone from the table beside the bed as it rang out, startling her.
“Agent Frost,” she said, breathless from the exertion and from the shock of getting a call that she hadn’t been expecting. Still, instinct kicked in. She guessed it was probably going to be Division Chief Rondelle, or—
“Laura.”
Laura’s breath caught in the back of her throat. Of all the people she would have thought likely to call her, he was one of the last. “Marcus?”
“I had a call from the hospital,” he said. His voice was strained and tight, like he was begrudging having to talk to her at all. “Apparently, I’m still your next of kin. Something happened to you?”
“I’m sorry,” Laura said, her voice restrained and subdued. “I’ll update my records. I’m… I’m fine.”
“You get blackout drunk again, Laura?” Marcus asked accusingly.
“No!” Laura said, hating the fact that even the denial itself would make her sound like a liar. She only had herself to blame, she knew. All the times she had lied in the past to cover up her alcohol problem. “No, I’m out here working a case. Things got a little… hairy with the suspect. I took a few knocks, but I’m okay. They’re discharging me already.”
Marcus made a noise that sounded like he wasn’t sure whether to believe her, but before he could say anything else, another voice interrupted.
“Is that Mommy?” The girl in the background of the call was faint, but Laura heard her. It was Lacey. Her sweet, beautiful daughter. She was close by. She was almost close enough to talk…
“Lacey?” Laura burst out, shouting it loud, wanting to make her voice heard over the speakers on the other end. “Lacey, honey, can you hear me?”
“Shut up,” Marcus snapped at her. “No, Lacey, it’s not Mommy. Go back and finish your breakfast, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“No! Lacey! Please, Marcus, please—” Laura gasped, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“I told you,” Marcus said heavily. “Not until I’m ready.”
Then the line went dead.
Laura felt hot tears streaming over her face, sobs racking her body as she leaned forward, covering her eyes with her hands. Her daughter… she’d been so close. But so far.
Laura cried herself dry. She only had so much within herself. It was partly self-preservation: the harder she sobbed, the more her ribs ached. She managed to lied back on the pillow, breathing deeply and looking up at the blank ceiling, finding enough of a calm inside herself to stop the tears.
Just not the grief.
Laura breathed out heavily, rubbing her head. She needed to do something, anything, to make this feeling diminish. She needed to do some good. She looked back through her contacts and dialed another number—this time, for Dean Marsters, the FBI tech who’d said he would help.
“Yeah?” he said, picking up after only a couple of rings.
“Dean. Please tell me you have something.”
“Oh, Frost. As a matter of fact, I was going to call you,” he replied. His voice sounded chipper, like he was pleased with himself. “I didn’t know if you wanted to be disturbed while you’re recuperating. I heard through the grapevine you were injured early this morning.”
“Please disturb me,” she said. She caught the irony in the words as soon as she’d said it. The more disturbing the dirt he’d managed to find on Governor Fallow, the better.
“Well, turns out he’s had a couple of run-ins over the years,” Dean reported. “As far as I can see, they mostly involve people being paid off to sign NDAs and keep his bad behavior to themselves. I don’t have any exact details just yet, but I have the names of a few people who received suspicious amounts of money. It could lead nowhere if they’re not prepared to talk, but if you need to take him to court, this could be something you could lean on. Get full disclosure from his lawyers, or something like that. Even if you can get a look at the agreements to see what it is they’ve signed off on not talking about.”
“Got it,” Laura said, even though she felt her heart sinking. It sounded like a lot more work. She’d been hoping for something concrete, something she could use to immediately have Fallow declared an unfit father—or at least rock his position in office. But she was going to have to work with it. Amy needed her to. “Send me everything.”
“Will do, Frost. Don’t forget that coffee and muffin you owe me.”
“Next time I’m in the office,” she promised, ending the call.
She lifted her phone, thinking she would dial another number. When her finger hesitated over the call button for Governor Fallow’s residence, a spike of pain hit her in the forehead. She knew what was coming even before it—
Amy. A close-up of her face. Crying.
“Daddy,” she said, sobbing through tears that shook her whole frame, blowing a bubble of snot under her nose. “No!”
Laura surfaced with a gasp, finding her hands shaking. Short but sweet. It told her everything she needed to know.
She ignored the pain in her head—and everywhere else, it seemed—as she got up out of the bed and reached for her clothes. She had to go—and now.
She dressed quickly and headed for the exit. Out the
re she found Nate already waiting with the car, ready to drive them both to the airport. It was time to leave here, and Laura was champing at the bit to be in the air already.
There was one other person who was still waiting for her to contact them, she knew. VirginiaMan383. She wished she could just sit here in the hospital and actually rest, but it felt like her timescale kept moving up. Amy couldn’t wait; she needed help as soon as possible. And now that she knew there was something going on with Nate’s death, something connected to the very knowledge of her visions, she needed advice.
Meeting up with someone who experienced the same things she did might help her to decide what to do. To make sense of it all. Maybe she could get some answers.
She fired off a message through the forum’s personal messaging system from the passenger seat, her fingers flying over her phone’s keyboard as quickly as she could make them.
Hi, VirginiaMan383. I’m coming back into town. Let’s meet on Thursday at the café next to the Y on W Street. 1:30 okay for you?
She hit send without pausing. Now wasn’t the time for second thoughts. It was the time for pushing forward.
And there was one thing left—the most important thing yet. She had to get on a plane—and the moment she landed, she knew exactly where she was going.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Laura hammered on the door, stepping back to glance up at the windows of the home above her. The governor’s mansion was an impressive structure, but that wasn’t what her attention was focused on now. She was looking for movement, for any sign of life.
The door opened promptly, revealing an Hispanic woman wiping her hands on a long apron. Even as she opened it, she was glancing over her shoulder, which had Laura’s hackles up immediately.