What did that mean?
"Toby's dead," he said softly. "Killed in the crash.”
More tears filled her eyes, slipped loose. Cord snatched some tissue from nearby.
"I didn't mean"—she gasped—"I didn't mean for him to die."
"I know, honey. It's okay."
She hadn't. Had she?
All these weeks, she’d been afraid. But at the end, she’d been angry.
She'd wanted to escape.
But she hadn't wanted this.
His thumb brushed the back of her hand. "The sheriff found the gun in the cab of the truck."
How had Cord found her?
He seemed to sense her thoughts. "Somehow your phone connected with mine and left a voicemail. On the recording, Toby was threatening you.”
The toll of talking about it was too much. She closed her eyes.
"That's fine." He kept hold of her hand. "Just rest, honey."
There was so much more she wanted, needed to tell him. But she couldn't seem to keep her eyes open.
"I'm here.” His words were faint as she drifted to sleep. “And I'm not leaving."
