by Laura Scott
No response. She didn’t even move. Panicked, he reached down and felt along her neck for a pulse, putting another hand on her chest to check for signs of breathing.
And nearly wept when he felt the irregular beat of Megan’s heart beneath his fingertips.
Her eyelids fluttered open and she stared up at him. When she struggled to speak, he shook his head. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe. He’s dead. It’s over.”
She shook her head, urgently. “Sam,” she croaked. “Hurt.”
Sam? Belatedly remembering his son, Luke jumped up from the blanket and glanced around wildly. “Sam? Where are you?”
“Here.” The reply was weak, muffled.
In the darkness he could just make out a figure lying in the grass about halfway between the line of trees and the blanket. Instantly he rushed over. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
“Shot in the leg,” Sam murmured, rolling over onto his back and fingering the wound in his right upper thigh. “Tried to get to Megan.”
Luke was humbled to realize that Sam had been using his elbows and his uninjured knee to crawl across the ground to help Megan.
They were both alive. Injured but alive!
Thank You, Lord. Thank You!
He quickly called for backup and an ambulance before reaching down to help Sam to his feet.
“Is she okay?” Sam whispered as Luke supported his weight, half carrying him over to Megan.
“She’ll be fine.” At least he hoped so.
Sam dropped down on the blanket beside Megan, and she reached out to lightly grasp his arm.
“Thanks,” she croaked.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him,” Sam said in a low voice.
She shook her head and smiled. “You did.”
When Luke heard Megan’s harsh breathing, he grew concerned. “Don’t talk,” he admonished her. “I’m worried about your throat.”
Sirens filled the air, and Luke couldn’t help feeling a surge of relief. In the darkness he couldn’t see much of Sam’s wound, although he did notice his son had tied his shirt around his upper thigh to help stop the bleeding. Pride surged in his chest.
When the paramedics arrived, Luke waved them over. Within moments the two people he loved most in the world, Megan and Sam, were bundled up on stretchers.
When the paramedics tried to lift Megan into the ambulance, she shook her head and reached out to grasp his arm. “Blanket,” she whispered.
“What?” Luke didn’t understand. He glanced over his shoulder at the blanket lying on the ground. What about the blanket?
“Evidence. Other murders.” The urgency in her voice, the alarmed expression in her eyes, finally helped him to understand.
“Are you saying he used this blanket for other victims?” he asked in a low voice.
She nodded vigorously, finally relaxing her grip from his arm.
“Okay, I understand. I’ll take care of it.” He stepped back so the paramedics could slide the gurney inside.
His deputies had arrived with the ambulance. He walked over to Frank and handed him his gun. “Here, you’re going to want to test this to match the ballistics with the slug in our suspect. And I want you to carefully wrap up the blanket and send it to the crime lab to be tested for evidence,” he ordered.
“Where are you going?” Frank demanded.
“I killed a man tonight, which means I’m required to step down from my duties until there’s been an investigation.” Luke didn’t hesitate to use the rules in his favor. And after his conversation with the mayor earlier, officially he wasn’t the interim sheriff anymore.
Besides, none of that mattered right now. He couldn’t bear to be away from Sam and Megan for a moment longer. “I’ll be at Hope County Hospital if you need me.”
“But—”
Luke ignored Frank’s sputtering as he turned and walked away.
At the hospital, Luke discovered Sam had already been taken into surgery. The swift action of the hospital staff made him realize his son might have been injured worse than he thought. He closed his eyes and prayed.
Please Lord, keep Sam safe in Your care.
When he asked about Megan, he was relieved she was still being seen in the emergency department. When they tried to give him some song and dance about only allowing family to visit, he flashed his badge and bullied his way in to see her.
“How are you doing?” He crossed over to her bedside, taking her hand in his.
She smiled but couldn’t nod her head, even though she tried, because of the huge ice pack covering her throat.
“Don’t talk,” he murmured, pulling up a chair next to her. For a moment all he could do was to clutch her hand, resting his forehead on her arm, drawing from her strength to help hold himself together.
So close. Too close. If he’d been a few seconds later, he would have lost her. And Sam, too. There was no doubt in his mind that the killer would have gone after Sam to silence him forever.
Thank God he’d left the mayor standing there and had taken off after Sam the moment his son had called to let him know about Megan.
Those moments would be forever engraved in his memory.
Only once before had he been forced to draw his gun and shoot a suspect, and that was during his first two years on the force.
He hadn’t intended to kill the man, but only to get him off Megan.
Unfortunately, his aim had been a little too good.
Forgive me, Lord.
Megan tugged at her hand and he pulled his scattered thoughts together, glancing down at her questioningly. She made writing motions with her hand.
There was a clipboard with paper and a pencil on the bedside table. He handed it over to her and she wrote only one word.
Sam?
He tried not to let his fear show. “They’d already taken him to surgery by the time I got here. Hopefully we’ll hear something soon.”
She frowned and then picked up the pencil again. I’m sorry.
“Don’t, Megan. None of this is your fault. Sam will be fine. He might have lost a little blood, but I’m sure he’ll recover quickly enough.”
Her gaze was skeptical, as if she didn’t quite believe him. Then she picked up the pencil again and began to write. Raoul confessed to killing many women. Sherman didn’t kill anyone other than Katie. It was all Raoul.
“Raoul?” The use of the guy’s first name floored him. “You actually know this guy?”
“He worked in the Chicago crime lab,” she whispered.
“Don’t talk, write,” he said. He remembered her talking about Raoul Lee, but hadn’t realized he was the same guy who’d just tried to kill her. But now her theory made total sense. “I guess you were right, Megan. The killer was someone who worked in the system.”
Personal. He was upset with me, so he made this personal.
He looked at the note she’d written and nodded. “You’re safe now, though. No one else will suffer at his hands.”
The Lord was watching over us. She’d underscored the sentiment twice for added emphasis.
He couldn’t help but smile. He was thrilled she’d found faith. And he totally agreed with her.
The Lord had watched over them tonight. “I was so worried about you, Megan,” he confessed in a low voice. “When Sam called me I nearly lost my mind.”
She stared at him, searching his gaze with hers. He could tell there was something she wanted to say, but she didn’t write anything down. She didn’t have to, because he understood her unspoken question.
“I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t care about you,” he said slowly. “When Sam accused me of letting my feelings for you get in the way of the investigation, I thought maybe he was right. That if I’d only been working harder, I could have prevented what happened to Amy. Especially after hearing her parents all but accuse him of murdering their daughter.”
His shame and guilt hadn’t just been about how he’d handled the investigation, he realized now, bu
t the fact that Sam had been upset to find Megan in his arms. Sam hadn’t come to grips with the idea of his father seeing a woman.
Luke now knew how much he loved her. With his entire heart and soul. But no matter how much he loved Megan, he couldn’t risk doing anything that might harm his relationship with his son.
There was simply no easy way to explain.
“I care about you, Megan. More than you’ll ever know. But Sam—well, he still needs me. And right now, I need to stay focused on Sam.”
When she frowned a little, he realized he needed to be blunt.
“I care about you, but I can’t spare time for a relationship. I’m sorry.” When he glanced at her, his heart squeezed when he saw her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
She blinked them away and picked up her clipboard. I understand. Just know I care about you, too.
“Ms. O’Ryan?” The nurse poked her head into the room. “The doctor has decided to admit you for observation overnight. Edie and I are going to move you upstairs.”
Megan tried to nod.
“You can come, too,” the nurse said kindly.
Luke shook his head. “I’m waiting for my son to get out of surgery.” He stepped back as the nurse took the clipboard away from Megan and set it on the bedside table. The nursing assistant, Edie, unlocked the brakes on the bed.
As they wheeled Megan away, she lifted a hand to wave goodbye.
He had to force himself to stay where he was and not follow her. His gaze landed on the clipboard they’d left behind.
In the center of the page, in Megan’s handwriting, was one last message.
I love you.
Megan spooned another ice chip into her mouth, closing her eyes as the coldness soothed her sore throat.
Swallowing and talking didn’t hurt as much today as it had last night. Apparently the anti-inflammatory medications were starting to work.
But all morning she’d been waiting for the doctor to show up. The nurses kept reassuring her he’d be here soon.
Not soon enough for her, though.
Finally there was a brief knock on her door. Before she could even respond, it swung open.
“Good afternoon!” Dr. DePaul greeted her jovially. She had to admit, she’d never been in a hospital where the employees were as cheerful as they were here at Hope County Hospital. “How are you feeling, young lady?”
Not like a young lady, that’s for sure. But since Dr. DePaul looked old enough to be her grandfather, she didn’t take offense. “Better.” Too bad her voice still sounded like a bullfrog.
A sick bullfrog.
“Excellent. Now open your mouth for me,” he instructed, pulling out his penlight. She obediently opened her mouth and he peered down inside her throat. “The swelling looks a little better, but I think you’re going to have to take it easy for a couple of days.”
She moved the ice bag so she could nod. “Home?” she asked.
“Yes, I think we can discharge you today, but not until later this evening. I’d like you to get one more intravenous dose of your anti-inflammatory medication first, and it’s not due until six o’clock tonight.”
She wasn’t about to argue, since she would have to figure out how she was going to get a ride anyway. And she wasn’t going home, but back to the motel. Luke had stopped in briefly earlier that morning to tell her that Sam was recovering fine from surgery, but he hadn’t stayed long.
Had he seen her note? Maybe not.
Did it really matter? He’d made his position clear. Even if he cared about her, he wasn’t going to pursue anything further between them.
And as much as the mere thought made her heart break, she understood. Luke wouldn’t sacrifice his relationship with Sam.
She wouldn’t ask him to.
Leaning back against the pillows, she racked her brain trying to think of who else she could call for a ride. Josie? Frank?
She was ashamed to realize she hadn’t made many friends here in Crystal Lake.
A situation she needed to fix, as soon as possible. Because even though Raoul was dead, she’d decided she wasn’t going back to Chicago.
She was going to take Bryan up on his offer of a full-time position. If the offer was still open. It was possible that after he discovered the truth about Raoul, he wouldn’t be so eager to allow her to stay on.
And if he didn’t, then she’d keep doing her part-time work until the DNA lab was caught up. Maybe something else would open up then.
She wanted to stay, not just because of Luke and Sam, but because of the community. The church.
She finally felt as if she’d come home. She needed a new place to stay of course, but Crystal Lake was going to be her home.
She must have dozed, because a soft knock at her door startled her. “Come in,” she croaked.
The door swung open and Sam stood uncertainly on the threshold, balancing precariously on crutches. “Hey,” he said awkwardly. “Can I come in?”
Stunned, she could only nod.
Laboriously, he made his way over to her bedside, leaning heavily on the crutches, tiny rivulets of sweat sliding down the sides of his face.
“Are you supposed to be up?” she asked doubtfully.
“Yes, I have to walk fifty feet if I want to go home. But I can’t stay long,” he added sheepishly. “Dad went down to the cafeteria for something to eat and I have to get back before he returns.”
She wasn’t sure she understood Sam’s reasoning, but she didn’t argue. “I hope the surgery wasn’t too bad,” she whispered.
“I’m fine. You’re the one I was worried about.” Sam hung his head for a moment. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you sooner. You probably wouldn’t have ended up here in the hospital if I had.”
“Sam!” She said his name as loud as she could, which wasn’t very loud at all. “You saved my life. He shot you because of me. I’m forever in your debt.”
“I wasn’t very nice to you,” he said in a low tone. “And I came here to ask you to give my dad another chance.”
She stared in shock. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been trying to convince him that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him, but he won’t listen. I figured it was because you pushed him away. Because of me. Because of the way I acted toward you.”
“Oh, Sam,” she murmured, trying to think of a way to explain that she hadn’t been the one to push Luke away without adding to Sam’s guilt.
“I went a little crazy after Amy died,” Sam confessed. “And it made me realize how much my dad went through after my mom died. I didn’t give him enough credit. I was awful to him.”
“Sam, your father loves you. Never forget that, not for a minute,” she said.
“I don’t want him to lose you, too,” Sam continued, as if he hadn’t heard what she’d said. “So can’t you give him another chance? Please?”
She glanced over Sam’s shoulder to see Luke standing in the doorway, his expression full of hopeful amazement. Without breaking eye contact with Luke, she nodded. “Yes, of course I’ll give him another chance. As many chances as he needs.”
“Sam? Did you really mean all that?” Luke asked, venturing further into the room.
Sam swung around to face his father, his face growing a little red as he realized his father had overheard everything. But then he lifted his chin. “Yes, I do. Megan is great, and I don’t want you to blow it.”
Luke wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulders, giving Megan a broad grin. “Well, okay, then.” Luke came over to the other side of the bed to take her hand. “Megan, I know you only came to Crystal Lake to heal after your sister’s death.”
“I love it here,” Megan said quickly. She felt a tiny pang in her heart when she thought of Katie.
But she also knew that her sister was in a much better place now.
Luke had showed her that.
“You do?” Luke sounded a bit surprised. Then he cleared his throat loudly. “Megan, will you do me the honor o
f being my wife?”
“Wife?” she squeaked in surprise. She hadn’t expected a proposal!
She glanced at Sam, not sure this was what he’d intended when he’d asked her to give Luke another chance. But the expectant smile on his face convinced her otherwise.
Her heart swelled with love and joy.
How could she say no?
“Yes, Luke. I’d love to be your wife.” She couldn’t think of anything better than staying in Crystal Lake with Sam and Luke.
Home at last.
EPILOGUE
Dressed in the traditional white gown, Megan waited in the back of the church as the music changed to the wedding march.
Slowly, everyone in the small congregation rose to their feet and turned to face her.
Not feeling the least bit nervous, she walked down the aisle holding on to Frank’s arm. Josie, the owner of Rose’s Café, stood up at the altar as her matron of honor, and Sam stood beside his father as the best man, so handsome in his tux she wanted to cry.
Luke watched her approach, a proud smile on his face. She couldn’t hold back her own smile, either. Last month the people of Crystal Lake had officially voted him in as sheriff.
Luke, Sam and Megan weren’t outsiders in Crystal Lake anymore. They belonged to the town.
And the town belonged to them, too.
The crowded church was a silent testament to that fact.
At the front of the church, she kissed Frank on the cheek and then put her hand in Luke’s. Together, they stood before the pastor.
“Dearly beloved, we gather here today to witness the holy marriage of Lucas Francis Torretti and Megan Katherine O’Ryan.”
Francis? Luke’s middle name was Francis? She glanced up at him, trying to swallow a giggle.
The wry twist to his mouth and the tightening of his hand on hers helped her to keep it together. Barely.
But the private joke kept a smile on her face throughout the rest of the ceremony.
And when Luke bent toward her to kiss her, her heart swelled with love.
“I love you, Luke Francis Torretti,” she whispered.