“Maybe?” she croaked. She pointed at Livvy. “She had wine. I thought she was drunk, even though she didn’t have that much, but after the fire I couldn’t wake her up. She couldn’t walk.”
“What about you?” Dave asked. “Did you drink any wine?”
She shook her head and it felt like she’d been struck with a hammer. “No wine. Kombucha. My head hurts.”
The two EMTs exchanged a look. “Sounds like they’ve been drugged,” Dave said.
Stu was sliding Livvy onto the gurney.
“Help her,” Felice managed.
“It’s okay,” Stu said. “We’re gonna take care of both of you.” He placed an oxygen mask over Livvy’s face.
A man’s voice cut through the darkness. “Is she dead? Oh my God. Is Livvy dead?”
Livvy and the EMTs looked up.
KJ emerged from a clump of bushes. His preppy shorts, embroidered with lobsters and sailboats, were filthy, his polo shirt torn. One eye was nearly swollen shut and his jaw was bruised and bleeding.
“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, Felice. We didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt you. It was Garrett’s idea.”
Felice stared at him in disbelief. “You? You did this? You tried to kill us?”
“Not me. Garrett. It was supposed to be a little fire. That’s what he told me.”
“You drugged us?” Felice croaked. “The wine? My kombucha?”
Dave, the first EMT, stood up and grabbed KJ’s arm. “What did you give them, you piece of shit? What was it?”
“Roofies. I didn’t know Garrett was gonna do that.”
“Felice? Livvy?”
KJ swung his head around. Traci Eddings was approaching in her golf cart, yelling their names.
“I’m sorry,” KJ repeated, and then he fled back into the woods.
Traci jumped from the golf cart and ran toward the girls and the EMTs. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Felice found herself choking up, tears streaming down her face. She coughed, tried to speak, but couldn’t find the words.
Dave spoke up. “They got out before the fire was totally involved. Some cuts and superficial burns.”
Traci’s voice rose. “What was KJ doing here? Why did he run off like that?”
“He and someone named Garrett apparently drugged their drinks, then set fire to that building where they were sleeping.”
She turned and stared at the dorm, where a horde of firefighters had hoses trained on the building. Smoke poured into the humid night air. The roof collapsed, spewing showers of glowing orange cinders.
Traci’s voice was anguished. “Why? Why would they do that?”
“Ma’am?” Stu had transferred Livvy to the gurney. “We need to get these ladies to the hospital. You can ask them questions later.”
CHAPTER 65
When the phone rang, Shannon snapped instantly awake, sitting up and grabbing it. Working in hospitals for nearly two decades—morning shifts, night shifts, doubles—had wrecked her circadian rhythm. Combine that with raising a teenaged girl by herself, and she hadn’t really had a sound night of sleep since bringing Livvy home from the hospital.
She glanced at the caller ID. It was Traci. And it was also 3:00A.M.
