Chelsea sat by Dylan’s bed in a small room in a Manchester hospital. Two hours had passed since the first police cruiser had found them in the clearing. The wounds on her hands and the cuts on her back had been treated and bandaged. No amount of antiseptic would wipe away the memory of Zeke Granger or the terror she’d felt. Those were the kinds of wounds only the Lord could heal. She trusted that He would.
Dylan was lying on the bed, eyes closed. They’d performed X-rays and found no broken bones, just bruises. The doctor had explained that the ones to his ribs would hurt terribly and take weeks to heal. They’d given him Tylenol for that pain and the headache caused by the concussion. There was nothing more they could do. Any minute, surely, the nurse would return to release him.
A knock on the door had Dylan’s eyes popping open. When he caught sight of Chelsea, he smiled. “I keep thinking I’m still back there.”
“We’re safe,” she said.
The door opened, but it wasn’t the nurse. Dylan’s friend, Eric Nolan, stepped in. “How’s our patient?”
Dylan raised the head of his bed, eyes blinking. “Never felt better.”
“You’ve definitely looked better.” He focused on Chelsea. “How about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” The fact that both hands were wrapped in bandages for the second time that week notwithstanding.
“From what I heard, you guys got lucky out there.” Eric closed the door.
“It wasn’t luck,” Dylan said. “It was all God—and Chelsea’s courage.”
“Hardly,” she said. “It was God and your heroics. I had no idea what I was doing.”
Eric chuckled. “Let’s just give God the credit and move on.” He carried a notebook, which he looked at now. “Your truck was found behind that seafood restaurant on the lake.”
“The one where the attack happened?” Chelsea asked.
“Right,” Eric said. “I suspect they’d have taken it farther, but it was pretty banged up. It’s been impounded. We’ll go over it, look for fingerprints.” He focused on Chelsea. “A purse, a”—he consulted his notes—“Louis Vuitton, was found on the floor.”
“It’s mine. When will I get it back?”
“Tomorrow, probably. No reason for us to keep it.” He snagged a pen from his breast pocket. “I’d like to speak with each of you privately, get your take on what happened.”
She wanted to argue that they’d already told the uniformed officers everything. But a man had died. It made sense they needed to thoroughly investigate.
She followed Eric and a uniformed officer to an empty room. Eric closed the door and directed her to sit in one of the chairs along the wall. The uniformed officer and Eric pulled up chairs to face her, and for the next thirty minutes, she related everything that happened. Her voice shook as she spoke. When she started to cry, Eric found a box of tissues on a table in the corner and handed it to her. She couldn’t stem the tears, though. The truth of it was just now hitting her—she and Dylan both could have died that night. And for what? Because Laura Blanchette wanted money? A woman who’d been like a grandmother to Chelsea, a woman her mother had trusted and loved and supported for years, had betrayed them.
Eric took notes, asked questions, took more notes. When she finished, he stood. “It sounds like a clean self-defense shooting.”
Clean. Was that what they called it? The gunshot, the bullet in the skull, the blood… She squeezed her eyes closed.
Eric’s hand rested on her shoulder. “You’re safe now.”
She opened her eyes and forced herself to focus on the detective’s face.
“We’ll find Granger’s accomplice, don’t worry.”
“You don’t think Laura was the accomplice?”
“She was the mastermind, but I mean the person who helped him tonight.” He shrugged. “Might’ve been her, but we need to confirm it.”
Chelsea tried to imagine Laura as the other person there. Laura with those shoes and jeans. Laura wrapping the duct tape around her wrists. Laura taking her feet and carrying her to the car. She couldn’t imagine it, but she was still struggling to wrap her mind around the fact that Laura had been behind all of it. “If she wasn’t, then…”
“Either way, she’s in custody and there’s no chance the other man, if there is another man, will get paid. This was a work-for-hire job. I’m certain the attempts on your life will stop.”
Just like that.
“There’s a man in the waiting room demanding to see you,” Eric added. “Your uncle?”
“Uncle Frank is here?”
“I guess Cote called him.” Eric held the door open and pointed. “Waiting room is that way.”
Chelsea found Uncle Frank pacing, scowl in place. She hardly noticed the other people seated around the room, all waiting to see a doctor. “Uncle?”
When he saw her, he rushed toward her and scooped her into his arms. His hand was rough against the bandaged cuts on her back, but she bore the pain. She’d expected to feel safe with him. It wasn’t that she didn’t, only that his arms weren’t the ones that most comforted now. Funny how quickly Dylan’s presence had usurped that of her uncle.
“Thank God,” he said. “Thank God you’re all right.”
When he set her on her feet, she leaned back to study him. “Thought you didn’t believe in God.”
“It’s amazing what fear will do to you. When I got the call that you’d been… I don’t even know all the details, only that someone abducted you. That man, Dylan, he saved you?”
“The Lord protected us.”
He held her away, met her eyes. “If that’s true, then I might start believing again.”
If her uncle became a believer because of all that had happened to her, that would be an outcome she could live with.
“Is it true?” he asked. “Did Laura Blanchette really do all of this?”
“It appears so.”
“I can’t believe it.” He shook his head. “After all our family has done for hers over the years.” He took Chelsea’s hand. “Are you ready to go? You must be exhausted.”
“Oh.” She glanced at the doors that led to the ER. “I can’t leave without Dylan.”
“He’s a grown man. Surely he doesn’t need you to take care of him.”
“Well, but…”
Uncle Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Is something else going on between you two?”
“We’ve become friends.” She thought of the kisses they’d shared, the things Dylan had said to her. How could it have only been a few hours before that he’d declared his love? She wasn’t ready to share any of that with Uncle Frank. Not considering the disapproval in his expression. “He saved my life tonight, and he was badly injured in the process. He may need me to—”
“We can hire a nurse if he needs—”
“Uncle.” Her voice was sterner than she’d intended, but she didn’t back off. “He is my friend, and I’m not leaving until I know he’s all right.”
Frank huffed a breath, then slapped on a plastic smile. “Fine.” He indicated a couple of unoccupied chairs. “We’ll wait to speak with him.”
It was another thirty minutes before Dylan shuffled out the double doors. He was bent, one hand pressing against his ribs. His eyes were already darkening with bruises. His gaze scanned the space until they rested on her.
She stood and hurried toward him.
Beside her, Frank held out his hand. “Thank you.” His voice thickened, and he cleared his throat. “Thank you for protecting her.”
Dylan shook it, didn’t seem to know what to say.
“I thought I’d take her home,” Uncle Frank said. “But she wanted to wait on you.”
“Home?” He turned to Chelsea. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Frank asked. “She’s safe now, and I’m sure she’s ready to get back to her own bed.” He focused on Chelsea. “Right?”
“I am, but…” But Dylan seemed against the idea, though she wasn’t sure why. He looked like he was about to drop. “Let’s sit.”
Dylan lowered carefully into a chair and turned to her. “There was an accomplice. Until he’s caught or we know who he was, I’m not ready for you to go home, to be alone in that big house.”
Truth was, she wasn’t ready to be alone there, either. Not after everything.
“Cote thinks you’re safe,” Uncle Frank said. “And I can stay with you, if you’d feel more comfortable.”
Dylan’s gaze caught Chelsea’s and held it. “If that’s what you want, but…” He swallowed, said nothing else.
She was caught between the two men she cared about the most in the world. Frank was concerned with Chelsea’s wellbeing, but Chelsea was worried about Dylan’s.
She turned to Frank. “Thank you for coming. It means so much to me. I need to stay with Dylan for the time being. When we know more…”
Frank stood, seemed to be casting about for a way to convince her to go with him. Apparently, nothing came, because he blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine, then. Where will you be?”
She said, “I don’t know.”
“We’ll find someplace safe,” Dylan said.
Frank glared at Dylan. Did he really still not trust him? After everything? “Where?”
Dylan pushed to his feet. “I don’t know yet.”
“I need to know where she is.” Frank turned to her. “He doesn’t even have a plan. He’s not—”
“Somebody nearly killed us tonight,” Dylan said, “and I’m too tired to be polite. We’ll be somewhere safe.”
Frank’s gaze flicked from Dylan to her. “Fine. Figure out where you’re going, and I’ll drive you.”
“That’s okay.”
The words came from behind them, and she turned to look.
“Sorry.” Eric stepped closer. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was trying not to interrupt.” He focused on Frank. “I’ll drive them. I have a few more questions anyway.”
Frank’s lips pressed together. After a moment, his shoulders dropped, and he turned to Chelsea. “Guess you don’t need me after all.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “Of course I need you, Uncle.”
“I love you, Chelsea.” He kissed her head. “Be safe and call me if you need me.”