June’s face in my head. That look in her eyes when she turned and saw me standing in the doorway with the gun. I was going to save her. I didn’t. I failed her. It’s my fault. I remember the man’s gun going off. I remember June’s eyes widening and the frown passing over her face, a question forming on her lips that I never got to hear because a red rose was blooming rapidly across her chest.
Pain blindsides me. It comes out of nowhere – a thousand punches landing on my body at once – and a scream builds inside my chest, so immense I think it might rip a hole on its way out.
‘She’s out of surgery,’ I hear Robert say.
I jerk towards him, eyes flying open. What’s he saying? She’s alive?
‘But,’ his voice cracks, ‘she’s critical. The doctors say we just have to wait . . . wait and see . . .’ He stares down at our interlinked hands, then up at me, his eyes bloodshot. ‘They don’t know if she’s going to pull through, Ava.’ A choked sob erupts out of him and he starts to cry. ‘I’m so sorry.’
I lift a hand and stroke the back of his head. She’s alive. That’s all I can think. She’s alive. And she’s a fighter. We know that. She’ll make it through. She has to.
‘What about Gene?’ I whisper. ‘Is Gene OK?’
‘He’s fine,’ Robert says, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. ‘He’s with June. Hannah’s on her way home. Dave and Laurie have gone to pick her up from the airport.’
I swallow, feeling the reverberation through my bones as I recall the thwack of the chopping board as I smashed it into the man’s head. Did I kill him?
‘Did . . .’ I start to ask, then stop. How do you ask that question? Did I kill someone?
‘They got away,’ Robert says, intuiting what I was about to ask.
I blink and stare at him. What? Panic starts to build – tiny bubbles of it trapped in my bloodstream, making their way to my heart. What does that mean? Are they still out there? They must be. What if they come back? What if . . . ‘I need to see June,’ I say, trying to swing my legs out of the bed. Robert stops me.
‘No, you can’t get up.’
‘But I have to see her,’ I shout. ‘I need to see her.’
Robert pushes me back into bed. ‘I know. I’ll talk to the doctor.’
‘What time is it?’ I ask, looking around for a clock.
‘It’s two in the afternoon.’
I blink, trying to put it all together. It must have been around eleven o’clock last night that it happened. I’ve been unconscious for over twelve hours.
‘When can I get out of here?’ I ask, struggling to sit up. I can’t stay here in this bed while June needs me.
‘The doctor said you’d be on your feet in a day or two. But you should try and rest—’
A soft knock makes me jump. The door opens and a man puts his head around it. ‘Can I come in?’ he asks.
Robert nods and the man enters the room. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and startling blue eyes, the color of a summer sky.
‘Hi,’ he says.
I knew I recognized that voice earlier. My heart stumbles into my mouth. What’s he doing here?
‘This is the Sheriff,’ Robert explains to me. ‘He’s in charge of the investigation. I’m sorry,’ he says, turning to the man, ‘I forget your name.’
‘Nate. Nate Carmichael,’ he answers, not taking his eyes off me.
Chapter 9
‘Nate,’ I say, in shock. My voice is a rasp and my heart rate has jumped into the stratosphere, a fact recorded by the beeping machine to my left.
‘Ava,’ Nate answers.
‘You two know each other?’ Robert asks, looking between us and frowning.
‘Nate and I went to school together,’ I explain, feeling the blood rush to my face.
‘It’s been a while,’ Nate says with a warm smile as he walks towards me.
I nod, but actually it hasn’t been that long at all and I know he’s only saying it to protect me.
‘You’re in charge of the investigation?’ I ask, eyeing his uniform in confusion.
Nate rocks back on his heels and points to the silver star pinned to his shirt. ‘Yep. Sheriff’s department’s got jurisdiction on this one.’ His expression turns serious all of a sudden, businesslike. He gestures at a chair and I nod. He pulls it over so he’s sitting on the opposite side of the bed to Robert and I’m sandwiched uncomfortably between them.
‘I’m sorry to have to do this now,’ Nate says, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees, ‘but the quicker we can get statements, the greater the chance we have of finding the men who did this to you and your family.’ He glances at Robert and I’m probably imagining it but it feels as if there’s an atmosphere brewing between them. Does Robert know? I swallow drily at the thought. No, how could he? I’m being paranoid. But, oh dear God, why is Nate the one in charge? Why couldn’t it be someone else? Anyone else?
‘I’ve already taken a statement from your husband,’ Nate says, ‘but I really need to get your version of events too.’
‘Of course,’ I say, though panic sweeps through me at the thought.
‘I’m not sure this is a good time,’ Robert interrupts, his voice rising. ‘My wife’s in a lot of pain. She has a head injury. And our daughter is currently fighting for her life.’
‘It’s fine,’ I interrupt, squeezing Robert’s hand. ‘I want to help.’ I can’t just lie here and do nothing. Robert glances down at my hand and then pulls his out from under it.
‘Great,’ says Nate, who’s noticed and is looking between us curiously. ‘Thank you. I’ll try to keep it short.’
I nod and Nate turns to Robert. ‘If you could just step out of the room please, sir.’
‘What?’ Robert asks.
‘We like to take statements with witnesses on their own,’ Nate explains. ‘It’s standard procedure.’
Robert starts
