Her eyes snap to mine. Wide. Terrified.
“I’m here,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “You’re okay.”
Her breath breaks. And then she’s in my arms. Clinging to me like I’m the only thing holding her together. I hold her tight—one hand at the back of her head, the other wrapped firmly around her.
“It’s over,” I murmur. “He’s not coming near you again.”
Her fingers grip my shirt. Hard. “I thought—” she starts, but her voice cracks.
“I know,” I say. “I’ve got you.”
Sirens cut through the silence. Getting closer. Good.
The police arrive fast. Lights flood the alley. Voices follow suit. They separate us, but I keep her in my sight. She’s my anchor to the present. To everything.
Someone starts asking questions. I don’t fight it. I stand still, hands visible, calm and controlled.
“Sir, step over here,” one of them says.
I do. They take the gun. Check the body.
“What happened?” the officer asks.
“Self-defense,” I say evenly.
He watches me closely.
“Start from the beginning.”
So I do. I explain it all, keeping it simple and clear. “He had a gun,” I explain. “He was threatening her. I stepped in. He resisted. The weapon discharged during the struggle.”
The officer nods slowly. Writing everything down. Another one crouches by the body, turning the weapon over with a gloved hand. “Twenty-two,” he says to no one in particular. “Cheap. Easy to buy on the streets.” He bags it
.
A second officer comes around the side of the building, nodding toward the corner of the alley. “There’s a camera back here. Looks like it’s got an angle on the whole thing.” He glances at me. “That’ll make this simple.”
Relief I don’t show moves through me. I knew that camera was there—Pete keeps it running over the back lot. I counted on it the second I rounded the corner. It saw everything. It’ll back every word I’ve said.
Eventually, they bring Cammi over. She looks smaller somehow. Shaken. My heart wrenches. I want to take her away from all the noise and chaos. To a place where it’s just us.
But when her eyes find mine, she steadies.
“Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
She nods. “I am now.”
Millie stands a few feet away, still on the phone with someone, probably talking to Wilder. She looks like she’s been crying.
“You did good,” I tell her.
She nods, swallowing hard. “I just…I didn’t know what else to do.”
It takes another hour before the cops finally decide it was self-defense and let us go. By that time, Wilder has arrived and now has Millie in his arms.
???
Back at Wilder House and in my apartment, I turn to Cammi. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed. Quiet.
