He stayed close, never more than a few feet away, watching Eugene get loaded onto a stretcher and taken away under guard.
It was over. Eugene was caught. Nora was safe.
So why did Carson still feel like something was wrong?
***
Two hours later, Nora sat in the emergency room, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, while a doctor examined the bruises on her throat.
“You’re lucky,” the doctor said. “No serious damage. The bruising will heal in a week or two. I’d recommend ice and ibuprofen for the pain.”
Lucky. Nora didn’t feel lucky. She felt violated and terrified and shaken to her core.
Carson stood nearby, having refused to leave her side despite the nurses telling him he should go give his statement. His shirt was stained with her tears. His knuckles were bruised—probably from hitting something after Eugene was loaded into the ambulance.
He looked as wrecked as she felt.
“Can I go home?” Nora asked.
The doctor nodded. “You’re free to go. But I’d recommend staying with someone tonight. You’ve been through a trauma. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Nora almost laughed. Home. Where would that even be? Her apartment was a crime scene. Carson’s apartment was also a crime scene now.
“She’ll stay with me,” Carson said before she could respond. “I’ll make sure she’s looked after.”
The doctor gave him a knowing look. “Good. Make sure she eats something and gets rest. And if she has any trouble breathing or swallowing, bring her back immediately.”
After the doctor left, Nora turned to Carson. “Your apartment—”
“Is being processed by CSI. We can’t go back there tonight.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m taking you to a hotel. A real one this time, not some cheap place. Somewhere safe with actual security.”
“Carson—”
“Please.” His voice was rough. “Please just let me take care of this. Let me make sure you’re safe.”
Nora wanted to argue. Wanted to say she could handle herself, that she didn’t need him making all the decisions.
But the truth was, she was exhausted. Terrified. And the only place she felt safe was with him.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
***
The hotel Carson chose was upscale—the kind of place with a doorman and keycard-only elevator access. He got them adjoining rooms on the eighth floor, paying cash for both.
“I’ll be right next door,” he said, unlocking Nora’s room. “There’s a connecting door. Keep it unlocked on your side. If you need anything—anything at all—just knock.”
Nora stepped into the room. It was beautiful—plush bed, expensive furniture, a view of downtown Blackridge. Nothing like the bare functionality of Carson’s apartment.
Nothing like the bathroom where she’d hidden in terror just hours ago.
“I need to go give my statement,” Carson said from the doorway. “Captain’s waiting at the station. But I’ll be back in two hours, three max. Will you be okay until then?”
No. She wouldn’t be okay. The moment he left, she’d be alone with her thoughts. Alone with the memory of Eugene’s hand around her throat, the knife coming toward her, the certainty that she was going to die.
But she couldn’t say that. Couldn’t be that needy.
“I’ll be fine,” Nora lied.
