Emma holds her little boy close. She kisses the top of his head and looks up at me. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”
“Talia?” she asks. Her voice is small.
I meet her eyes, and I know she can see everything there. I shake my head.
“I carried her out,” I say. “But there was too much blood. They told me to run, that they’d take care of her, but I don’t... I don’t know if she made it, Em.”
She stares at me, eyes wide, mouth turned down, skin pale. I can see she’s processing.
“You just...left her?” she finally asks.
“I couldn’t...I didn’t know what to do. She’d been shot. I couldn’t just...”
“You couldn’t what, Liam? You couldn’t put her in the car and drive her to the hospital?”
“The shooting might carry outside. I have to get you and Laddie out of there.”
“So you left Talia behind? You left her to die alone?”
The octave and volume of her voice are rising with each question, each accusation. Laddie buries his head further into her side, whimpering.
“They said they’d get her taken care of,” I say, but it sounds pathetic, even to my own ears. I don’t know those guys. How can I know what it means to take care of her?
“Take me back, Liam,” Emma says, an order, not a request.
“Emma, the police will be swarming. Many people just got shot.”
“This is my sister we’re talking about,” Emma says.
“Maybe I can just text Nik and?—”
“Take. Me. Back.” She isn’t screaming, but she will if necessary.
We hold each other’s gazes for a heartbeat, then two.
I turn around and start the car, throwing it into drive and driving back to the hellhole.
As I rewind my way through the neighborhood, Emma cries in the backseat. “No, no, no, no. Not my Talia.” Over and over.
I don’t want to go back. I don’t think I can handle seeing Emma facing her sister’s death. They’ve been the best of friends theirwhole lives. Emma is strong and pragmatic, but this might break her.
And it will be all my fault.
I drive slowly as we ease down the street toward the house. Just like I expected, half a dozen police cars block the way, lights spinning and blazing against the night.
The yellow crime scene tape is already strung around the perimeter of the property.
One ambulance is pulling away. Another sits half on the lawn, engine running.
Neighbors crowd the sidewalks. Others gather in clusters on porches, murmuring, staring, trying to figure out what just happened.
I pull over as best I can and kill the engine.
Somehow, Laddie has fallen asleep. Emma leans forward and whispers for me to roll the windows down. I do, and she gently lays him on the backseat, smoothing her hoodie over him like a blanket.
Then she slips out of the car.
