I opened my mouth. I wanted to tell him yes, but I didn’t know whether it was true.
The man who’d shielded me groaned beside me, sagging onto the dirt. Graham snapped something at him, and he gritted his teeth.
“I already did,” he grumbled between clenched teeth.
Graham finally seemed to register something, and his face went even paler. He looked at me again, those bright-blue eyes so pretty, even in this dreary place.
“Hold on,” he said desperately. “Help is on the way. I’m going to get you out of here.”
I almost sobbed when his face disappeared from my sight as he moved behind me.
Something tugged at the bindings behind my back. I screamed again, not because of my wrists, but because the jostling awakened the real pain. It was a burning, searing fire near my upper arm.
“I know, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know it hurts. I’m almost done.”
Every movement sent pain ripping through me. My vision blurred.
Graham worked quickly, though; my wrists came undone and then he cut the rope from around my chest. My body sagged forward, but his arms wrapped around me.
Graham pulled me against him, gathering me into his chest as gently as he could. His warmth swallowed me, his heartbeat pounding frantically under my cheek.
I trembled uncontrollably and his arms tightened.
His voice dropped to my ear, low and fervent. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re going to be okay.”
His hand slid up the back of my head, holding me to him like I was the only thing that mattered in the world. “I’ve got you, Quinn. I’ve got you.”
And then, I succumbed to the blackness narrowing my vision and slipped into unconsciousness.
36
Graham
Iwasn’tsurehowI’dgotten to the hospital. Everything after the gunshots blurred into one long stretch of panic and flashing lights. Hours must have passed, maybe more, but time felt slippery and unreliable. I sat in the waiting room like I was still trapped in the nightmare, except this one was real.
Even after washing my hands twice, I could still see Quinn’s blood on them. I kept flexing my fingers as if the motion wouldmake it disappear, as if that could erase the memory of her collapsing in my arms.
Detective Whize sat across from me, asking questions in that steady voice of his. I nodded when appropriate and answered when I could, though my words felt detached from my body.
My mind was still in that barn.
They’d told me Quinn was going to be okay, but until I saw her myself, I didn’t truly believe it. They still hadn’t let me see her, and the waiting gnawed at me.
“She informed me she often stalked your home, and the bed-and-breakfast, these last few weeks. She said she was afraid for you because she didn’t trust Ms. Carpenter. Did you have any idea what she was capable of?” Whize asked softly.
He had spoken with Mara for a short time not too long ago, and it seemed like she wasn’t denying or lying about anything. She was telling her story to anyone who would listen.
I shook my head, swallowing down a wave of nausea. Mara. I clenched my hands into fists. I should’ve seen that, too. I was still making the same mistakes. Still missing the most important things.
Mara had been my friend. I’d cared about her, and she cared about me, but I’d never thought she was…obsessive.
Perhaps she’d only shown me what I wanted to see. Or maybe she did care about me, and Quinn’s arrival was a trigger point for her.
Even though Mara would physically recover from today, she was going to have a long road ahead of her.
And despite it all, I would miss her. I would miss who I’d thought she was. Who she might’ve been if she hadn’t been subjected to so much tragedy.
“I’m sorry it all went down like this.” Whize shook his head. Sympathy softened his features.
