“Of Harlyn?” My voice reflects just how I feel—confused, a lot pissed off, and useless.
“And several others we are still working on identifying,” he confirms.
The air in my lungs whooshes out of me as I try to throw my legs off the side of the bed.
“Whoa, chill. You aren’t ready to go anywhere.”
“I need to find her. She thinks this is her fault.” The letter she left makes so much more sense now, at least parts of it.
“Oh hell.” Chauncey grabs my shoulder to steady me, but I’m still on the bed because I know if I actually try to stand up, I’m going to end up in a heap on the floor. “Listen, man, lay back down. You’re going to end up hurting yourself.”
“I’m fine.” I grit my teeth, knowing I’m lying.
“You are not fine.” Chauncey turns his head to see a nurse busting into the room.
“What are you doing?” She takes us both in then rushes over to shoo Chauncey away, pretty much forcing me to lie back on the bed. “You are not permitted to get up,” she announces with nearly as much authority as my sister. “If you have to use the bathroom, you have to call.”
“I don’t need to shit.” My teeth are still clenched so my words are slightly garbled.
“Oh, so you just wanted to go for a stroll?” She tucks the blanket back around me with efficiency and a little irritation.
“I need to go.”
“Back to the OR?” She looks me dead in the eye. “Because that is where you will end up if you try to get out of this bed.”
I can’t tell if she’s threatening to put me there herself, or if it’s actually that risky for me to move around.
“We will get you up tomorrow, after your body has had alittletime to recover. You are in the SICU for a reason.”
“I’ll make sure he stays put,” Chauncey promises like it isn’t partly his damn fault I was trying to get the hell out of here. I send a glare in his direction that I couldn’t back up right now if my life depended on it, but he pretends to be chastised when he somewhat shamefully looks away.
“Be sure that you do, or I will restrainyouto the bed.” If the situation wasn’t so serious, I might laugh. She’s probably only twenty-four years old, and she might top out at five and a half feet if she’s lucky, but she has the intimidation thing locked in. “Now, do you need anything, or can I get back to the patients who do?”
“I’m fine.” My disposition isn’t any better, but I can at least open my jaw to answer since the wave of nausea has passed.
“Five more minutes, then this one needs some rest,” Nurse Hard Ass tells Chauncey before she leaves the room.
“You aren’t leaving until I know everything,” I insist.
CHAPTER 29
Harlyn
Iclose the lid to my laptop after another fruitless search. You’d think since Boone’s injury made the news, they would do a follow-up story so I could find out how he’s doing, but there haven’t been any updates in the past week.
I’ve almost broken down and called the hospital to ask, but I know they won’t release any of his information to me.
The knock on the door startles me, but a giddy feeling of excitement fills my stomach. No one knows where I am, not even Liv, and I don’t have to worry about William Rollins anymore. There has been a shortage of his story on the news, though I’ve been avoiding those. Maybe it could it be Boone?
I walk toward the door and place my palm on the cool wood. I’m just about to look out the sidelight window and ask who it is, but instead, I flip the lock and open it. I need to stop seeing the boogeyman in everything.
Uncertain excitement turns to apprehension in less than a heartbeat. Boone is not at my door, but someone is, and his faceis almost familiar, yet I can’t place it. “Can I help you?” I ask with my hand still on the doorknob, ready to close it at a moment’s notice.
One side of the man’s mouth curls up in a smile, but something about it feels wrong. “Sorry to bother you,” he starts, then he looks down almost shyly. When the bill of his hat covers most of his face, I suddenly realize why he looks familiar. He was my rideshare driver, the same man I saw in the shops in Michigan, but that isn’t all. Now that I’ve seen his entire face, other memories come flooding back—him at my work, seated in a booth out of my section, him walking around the campus as just another face in the crowd.
I step back and start to slam the door, but he’s faster, kicking his foot into the threshold so the door bounces uselessly off his boot and slams into my hands on the return. I step back again, creating distance that I already know will be useless.
He steps inside the old farmhouse, looking around at the high ceiling of the foyer as if he’s an invited guest. My heart is beating so fast, I think I might actually be having a heart attack. I think about screaming, but no one would hear me. There’s no point in wasting my breath. I picked this place for many reasons, the first being I thought I was safe. The man who killed my sister and stalked me was supposed to be dead, and I wanted to prove I didn’t have to live in fear. I was so wrong.
