Page 122 of Nowhere Good

“Not a chance, Lieutenant. I’ll be fine.”

She narrowed her silvery eyes. “Will you, though?”

“Well, I did get my ass kicked by an old man, but I’ll live.”

“Not just any old man.” Delaney shuddered and hugged her thin arms over her suit jacket. “The size of that brute. Good lord, Winslow, we’re lucky you’re alive.”

True. Seth had never wrestled such a massive human being in his life. Even well into the next day, he still couldn’t believe he’d survived it.

It was no surprise he’d needed stitches. And an MRI. He was lucky he didn’t have a total brain bleed. If Ron had landed even one more punch, his skull probably would’ve cracked in half. Thankfully, Ron had missed his nose and focused more on the sides of his face. The white of his left eye was crimson, he had a fat, stitched up scar on his forehead from when Ron belted him with the gun, and he’d lost a right molar. But his nose would not be crooked and he, miraculously, did not have a concussion.

But Ron hit hard. Every single punch had him seeing stars. Random flashes of memory from his childhood; his bedroom, his old Nintendo, things that made no sense to think of in the moment. He’d been punched before, but never like that, like the embodiment of thunder itself was clapping his skull.

He’d thought he was dead. Many times last night, he’d thought he was dead.

But now he was about to be discharged.

Then, hopefully, he could see Claire.

A knock lifted their attention to Chief Wells, who lingered in the doorway with her hands tucked in the pockets of her police uniform. She’d been wearing that remorseful look every time she’d been in to see him since last night.

“I hear you’re being discharged,” Wells said.

“I am.” Seth stood, but the blood rushed to his head. Lieutenant Delaney offered an arm, and he tried not to crush her as he balanced himself on her shoulder. “If you need me to go over the night again while it’s fresh, I can do that, but I’ve already told about six different people.” Wells herself, some officials from the state, Delaney; the list went on. At least he had a long-sleeved shirt on now, thanks to Pereira grabbing him something from the motel, but everyone had seen his track marks last night. His history was in his file if anyone wanted to look back far enough, but it was one thing to know something, another to see it.

“That’s not why I’m here.” Wells closed the door behind her. “Sorry again about your detective, Sheila. I’m ashamed it got to this point.”

Delaney clasped her hands over her skirt. “I think many people owe Detective Winslow an apology, myself included.”

“No,” Seth said. He didn’t want to deal with the discomfort of receiving apologies right now. “I’m not the one he really hurt.”

Their shared shame filled the room.

“I tried to go see her, but she’s still under,” Wells said. “They have her sedated pretty good. Withdrawal’s starting to kick deeper into gear, plus the head wound.”

“Did they say when she can have visitors?”

“Hopefully tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. He didn’t want to wait that long. The last image he had of Claire was her fainting, then being lifted into an ambulance. Every second since had been torture.

“Marty Dyer, though,” Chief Wells said, “did wake up a few hours ago.”

Right.

Somehow, Marty had survived. Last Seth heard, he went into surgery.

“He’s okay?” Seth asked.

“Bullet missed his vital organs, hit his spine. They think he’ll never walk again, but yeah, he’s okay. He’s been cooperative. He corroborated your story, admitted to his parts in it. Ron, of course, keeps pleading the fifth, but Marty’s been an open book.” She paused, her expression darkening. “He admitted everything. Jacobson working with Ron, tipping him off about the direction Trevor went in. Ron and Marty were waiting close by for a chance to get him without any of us seeing them. They’d been hunting for him, coordinated it with Jacobson. They tracked him to the barn, where Ron staged the suicide. At that time, Dillon Beamish was standing by elsewhere.”

“Considering how quickly Ron turned that gun on Dillon’s head, I’d guess he was already planning to get rid of him,” Seth said. “Marty was the one he really trusted. Ron’s a good shot. If he’d wanted Marty dead, he would’ve finished him there.”

“Maybe he still had hope he could turn things in his favor,” Delaney said.

“He would’ve found a way out of it,” Seth agreed. “Ron knew how to manipulate a narrative.”

“He did.” Wells paused. “There’s more. We… found the cage.”