My pulse beats with anticipation.
“I have an identification on one of your Jane Does. Name’s Rachel Murphy. I’ll have everything faxed over to you.”
“Thanks, Rossi.”
I end the call and get into the cruiser. “We have ID on one of the Jane Does,” I tell Cade with excitement. Finally, another step in the right direction.
“Name?”
“Rachel Murphy. Rossi is going to fax everything over. It should be there by the time we get back to the station.”
“We’re going to catch this guy,” Cade says confidentially, and for the first time since we were called out to the first victim, I feel it too. We’re getting close. Once Natalie wakes up, we will get a good description and possibly even a name.
On the drive back to the station, something about Rachel’s name grates on me, but I can’t figure out what it is.
Mrs. Ira and her group of knitters are in the bakery when Ms. Tizzy gets the call. Natalie has been found and is currently fighting for her life on the way to the hospital . None of the knitters drove, so Sarah offered to take her.
Right now, we don’t know much other than she was found alive. In such a small town, I’m sure news and details will emerge like wildfire. All we can do is hope and pray.
“I texted my brother. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I’m sure he won’t mind that I’m telling you. Natalie was stabbed. It’s not looking good and they are sure that whoever did it is the person they are looking for.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I let out a gasp. “Oh my gosh!” My heart breaks for Natalie because I’ve been in her shoes. I know the pain and struggles she is going to be faced with if she pulls through. A part of me wishes I could talk to her. Tell her that it’s going to be okay and that I can relate to what she will be feeling and going through. To tell her she is beautiful.
Tears threaten to fall, and I blink them away as my hand subconsciously splays across my own scars. “Let’s hope she pulls through.”
Sarah returns, and hours go by without any word on Natalie. The knitters left shortly after Ms. Tizzy, talking about going to make freezer meals for them to come home to. Word has travelled quickly, and everyone is talking about how Natalie has survived a serial killer.
Finally, Wren gets a text from West. Natalie has made it out of surgery and is currently in an induced coma. I let out a breath of relief knowing she has made it this far. Now we just have to hope no infections develop. I think back to those early days and the months that followed after I got out of the hospital. I was in so much pain, and for years, my scars would itch. I’d have days where I could still feel the burning and tightness. Recovery wasn’t easy. Since I can’t speak with Natalie, I make a mental note to send an anonymous gift basket with some products that helped me, along with activities she can do to keep her mind busy as she recovers.
“We should have a girls’ night,” Sarah suggests to Wren and me as we’re busy cleaning up. “Shake off this sombre mood.”
“I’m in.” Wren shrugs. The girls turn to me, and I nod along.
“Sure. I think I have a few things to make a charcuterie board, and I know I have a bottle of wine at the house.”
“Perfect! We could stop at the store and get some chips and some more wine too,” Sarah says excitedly.
“That sounds great! Let’s hurry up and get this place cleaned.”
We all get to work, and at last it’s time to head home.
“Salsa?” Wren holds up a jar as we scan the aisles of the grocery store debating what we should all get.
“The answer is always yes when the question is salsa.” Sarah grabs the jar from Wren’s hand and places it into the basket.
“I think we should be good now. There is no way we can eat all these snacks and a charcuterie board.” I giggle, looking atthe overflowing basket of different flavours of chips and bags of chocolate and even popcorn.
“Fine. Let’s go get booze.”
Paid and checked out, we’re walking along the sidewalk to the parking lot when I realize my phone isn’t in my pockets or purse. “Crap. I think I left my phone in the kitchen. You guys go ahead and I’ll run into the bakery quickly,” I say, stopping outside the bakery doors.
“You sure? We can wait here. It’s no problem.”
“Speak for yourself, Wren. These bags are heavy,” Sarah grumbles.
I smile, rolling my eyes. “Well, if you didn’t clean out the snack aisle,” I tease.
Sarah sticks out her tongue, and Wren laughs, reaching for one of the bags and looping her arm through Sarah’s.
