Molly was on edge for the rest of the day. If she went home, she’d be restless and bored. Pushing through the day, trying not to reveal how shaken she was at being right, at the idea that Tiffany had murdered her boss and somehow framed Judd, she kept reading lines over and over again.
Sam called halfway through the day to say hello. When he asked about grabbing something to eat, she said she had to finish up a few things. If she saw him while she was still on edge, she wouldn’t be able to keep the fear out of her voice when she told him everything. No, she’d collect herself, get her emotions under control, hope Chris got the warrant reasonably quick, and tell Sam everything after work.
“Why don’t I go grab Tigger and we’ll walk over to The Bulletin after I’m done here? You can leave your Jeep there and we’ll walk down to the water?”
“That sounds good,” she said, her voice sounding distant in her own head.
“You okay?”
Breathing through her nose, she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “I am. I miss you. I’ll be done around six.”
“Sounds good. Love you.”
“I love you, too.”
When she hung up, she did her best to stay in the moment. By five o’clock, she was feeling less restless. She wished Chris would phone her back or text and let her know if he had a warrant. You’re done. Right. She got that, but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to know how things wrapped up.
Elizabeth and Jill waved goodbye as they headed out together. Alan would take care of running off the newspapers and distributing them to vendors. As a trade-off for his long Wednesday hours, he typically took Thursdays off.
Tomorrow, they’d start working on the next edition. The news never stopped. Sometimes, Molly found that strange. By the time people opened their newspapers, a new truth would have come to light. They’d have to update the website and social media if Chris had any news. Alone in the news office, with Alan downstairs and the others gone, Molly’s restlessness came back.
She picked up her phone and dialed Sam. He picked up on the first ring. “Hey. I just got home. Tigger approves of our evening plans.”
Molly laughed, less tension crowding her chest. “I’m actually finished here so if you give me ten minutes, I’ll be home and we can just walk to the beach from there?”
“Okay. That sounds good. You want to try that new fish and chip shop on the pier? They have outdoor seating so Tigger will be fine.”
“That sounds perfect,” Molly said, her stomach grumbling. She grabbed her bag and the sweater she’d pulled on this morning, and headed for the back of the building.
“You sound tired,” Sam said.
Molly checked the coffee maker to make sure it was off and paused at the countertop. “Long day. I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
She hung up, slipping her phone in her back pocket. Taking an extra minute to put a few mugs in the dishwasher and turn it on, she gave a final glance around the room. Satisfied with the state of the small kitchen that served as a break room, she walked to the back door.
Outside, the sun shone brightly and it warmed Molly’s chilled skin. Should have dug my keys out, she thought as she approached her Jeep. Unzipping her bag, her fingers had just closed around the cool metal when she heard something behind her. Before she could turn all the way around, something struck her head. Hard. A streak of pain whipped through her head, making her cry out. She glimpsed a flash of black in the seconds before she fell to the ground. Her eyelids grew heavy as she crumpled to the pavement. A small whimper left her mouth when something hard connected with her ribs, making them feel like they’d cracked into splintered pieces. After that, she felt nothing.
* * * *
Molly woke in the back of a police cruiser, her mouth dry and her head pounding. It took effort to open her eyelids and make sense of what was happening.
“Molly?” Sam’s voice pierced through the fog.
It took a minute for him to come all the way into focus.
“Is she awake?”
Who was that? Chris? Why was she in a cop car?
“Sam,” she whispered. Her throat felt like a desert.
“I’m here. Just rest. We’re almost at the hospital,” Sam said, his face close.
She realized that she was lying across his lap—sitting in it, really. His arms were a vice around her, which was probably good since she didn’t think she was wearing a seatbelt. Trying to pull in a breath, she winced at the sharp slice of pain.
“Keep her awake, Sam. If she’s awake, keep talking to her,” Chris said.
He was driving. Why was he driving?
“What hurts?” Sam asked, noticing her pain.
“Everything.” The word stuck in her throat. “But mostly my ribs.”
Chris zipped into the hospital parking lot, parking in front of the emergency room doors. He told them to stay there and disappeared. What seemed like seconds later, the back door opened and two doctors, or nurses, or orderlies—Molly wasn’t entirely sure—appeared.
The next several moments were painful and somewhat embarrassing. Molly didn’t feel like she could support her own weight for any length of time, but no one was allowing her to even try. She was pushed into a wheelchair, despite Sam’s insistence that he could carry her, past the nurse’s station and into the back of the hospital.
“A doctor will be right with her, Sheriff,” a man said. He wore dark green scrubs and had held her gently while he helped her into the wheelchair. Smiling at Molly, he approached slowly. “Let’s take your blood pressure while we wait, okay?”
Sam held her hand while the guy checked and Chris paced in front of the cordoned off area. She could hear monitors and voices, beeps and murmurs. Pressure built behind her eyes and her head felt heavy.
“Can she lie down?” Sam barked, his tone unusually sharp.
“Sure she can,” a woman entering the room in a white jacket with a stethoscope around her neck replied.
“Sheriff,” the woman greeted.
“Dr. Remy.”
The doctor waited for Sam and the blood pressure guy—Molly didn’t even try to read his name tag because her eyes wanted to cross or shut—to help her onto the bed. She tried to downplay the wincing but pain jolted through her.
“Hi, Molly. I’m Ramona Remy. Do you know where you are?” She smiled at Molly kindly. She had light brown hair cut just below her chin and brown eyes. She didn’t look familiar, but Molly wasn’t sure now was the best time to wonder.
“Hospital or a really bad play.”
Ramona’s grin stretched. “You have a sense of humor. Do you remember what happened?”
Sam stayed close to her side while Molly thought about it. When she didn’t answer right away, he spoke. “When I found her, she was on the cement, passed out and curled into a little ball.”
“Hmm. Do you remember how you got that way?” Dr. Remy checked Molly’s eyes, which hurt on the left side where she was pretty sure she’d been hit.
“Something hit me from behind. I didn’t see what or who. And I think I got kicked in the ribs. They hurt. A lot.”
“Okay. Let’s take a look. Sheriff, why don’t you go get some water for your friend. She sounds a little parched. You okay if Sam stays while I examine you?”
“I’m not leaving,” Sam said.
Molly managed to smile as Sam helped her shift to lie down. “It’s fine.”
She shut the curtain before coming back and lifting Molly’s shirt slowly. Molly wanted to see, but she couldn’t lift her neck without it hurting her ribs. It must not have looked great though because Sam hissed and swore.
“Looks tender for sure. I’m going to finish checking you and then I’m going to send you for some x-rays and a CT scan.”
The doctor did just that and even though it seemed to take hours of her life, Molly didn’t really mind because through it all she could close her eyes on and off and rest. She was tired and wanted nothing more than to go home. Unfortunately, she didn’t get to do that until hours later.