I’m on my back, my arms and legs tied up, unable to move. Stephen Spaulding stands over me, his gun aimed at my chest, a dead smile on his face. I buck and scream, but I can’t get away. Fire licks at my face. When I focus on him again, he’s holding a knife. Behind him lie the bloody bodies of my parents, of Nora and Duncan. I start to howl.
“Easy, easy! Olivia, you’re okay.”
With a start, I open my eyes. I’m lying on a white bed. A middle-aged woman is leaning over me, her hand on my shoulder. She wears a badge on her black short-sleeved shirt, which has gold crosses on the collar points. A man stands behind her. He’s dressed in a suit, with a badge on his belt. They’re cops.
Just like Stephen Spaulding.
I shriek and try to push her away. But I only raise my arms a few inches before they stop with a jerk. Padded straps encircle my wrists and ankles. Panic squeezes me tight. How long until Stephen comes in and finishes what he started? My eyes dart around the room. Besides the two cops, there’s only a table heaped with cards and stuffed animals, balloons and bouquets. No sign of him. Yet.
“Shh, shh, you’re okay, Olivia,” the woman says. She pats the air with empty hands.
“Where’s Duncan?” My heart constricts. Is he even alive? I remember hearing the shot, seeing him fall.
“He’s down the hall. He just got out of surgery, so we haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet.”
“So we’re both under arrest?”
“Arrest?” She gives me a reassuring smile as she shakes her head. “No, Olivia, this is a hospital. I’m Chaplain Steves, and this is Detective Elemon.” The man nods. “We’re with the Medford police.”
I raise my hands until the restraints catch them. “But if I’m not in trouble, why am I tied up?”
“The nurses did that,” Chaplain Steves says. “They said you kept pulling out your IV lines and running down the hall, screaming. They had to restrain you to keep you from hurting yourself.”
I hadn’t noticed them until now, but slender plastic tubes run from IV bags dangling from a silver pole and then disappear under a bandage on the back of my left hand. “What’s wrong with me?” My hands and arms are peppered with dozens of tiny red burns and larger yellow blisters.
“According to your doctors, you’re actually doing surprisingly well, considering you just survived a forest fire. You’ve got some first-degree burns and a few second-degree.” She touches her own short, straight hair. “And I’m afraid a lot of your hair got burned off. But the doctors were mostly worried about smoke inhalation. They want to make sure your lungs don’t suddenly start filling up with fluid. They said when that happens, there’s not much time to reverse it. That’s why you’re here in the hospital.” She gives me a half smile. “Since you weren’t exactly cooperating, they gave you something to sedate you.”
I can still feel the drugs in my system, making my thoughts sluggish, blurring the line between past and present, reality and nightmare.
“What about Duncan?” The horror of what I saw runs through me again. “Stephen shot him!”
“I’m not a doctor, but it sounds like he’ll be okay. He has a through-and-through wound on his shoulder, and some burns from falling after he was shot.”
I sag back on the bed in relief.
“And if you’re wondering where Chief”—she corrects herself—“I mean, Mr. Spaulding is, he’s in a burn unit at a different hospital. We don’t know if he’ll make it. The firefighters spotted the two cars and went searching for you. It was his shooting at you and Duncan that helped them find you.”
Detective Elemon speaks for the first time. “The reason we’re here, Olivia, is that Spaulding told the doctor on the chopper that he was guilty of three murders. And at that point, he knew that both you and Duncan were alive, so he couldn’t have meant either of you.” He presses his lips together and gives his head a little shake, as if he still can’t believe it. “He passed out before he could say anything more. But that’s one of the reasons we want to talk to you.”
I reflexively raise one hand toward my neck, where Nora’s necklace should be, but the restraints won’t even allow that much movement. “One of the people he killed was Nora. Nora Murdoch. I think he put a pillow over her face.” Tears prick my eyes as her loss hits me again. When I blink, they run down my cheeks, and I can’t even wipe them away. But for once, I don’t care that people know what I’m feeling.
The chaplain’s eyes widen. “Nora Murdoch? Are you sure? I heard she died, but they thought she had a heart attack.”
“No. He killed her because she knew who I really was.”
“Who you really are?” Detective Elemon echoes, looking puzzled. “Aren’t you Olivia Reinhart?”
I take a deep breath. “My real name is Ariel Benson. And my parents are the other two people Stephen Spaulding killed.”