Twisting my hands together, I squeezed my eyes shut until I saw tiny sparks of light.
A heart attack.
Oh God, she had been having a heart attack and she was in surgery for what felt like forever, but had only been an hour or so.
Cole’s hand slid down my back. He’d been doing that on and off this whole time, and it was the only thing keeping me from having a legit mental breakdown in the middle of the hospital.
I couldn’t lose my mom.
If I did, I wouldn’t—
The doctor stepped out of the doors and called my name. “Miss Keeton?”
I rose, heart thumping in my chest. Cole was right beside me. “Yes?”
He smiled as he approached me. “Your mom is awake and in her room. She is recovering fine.”
“Oh thank God.” My knees felt weak as I clutched Cole’s arm. “Oh my God, I want to hug and kiss you.”
The doctor glanced at Cole. “That’s not necessary,” he replied wryly. “We were able to stop the heart attack with an angioplasty.” He continued to explain the procedure, mentioning words like balloon and stent. Finally, he got to what I wanted to hear. “You can go up and see her now, but I would suggest to make the visit brief. She needs a lot of rest, but the good news is that she should be released in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
I mumbled my thanks about a dozen more times before Cole got the room number and carted me off, up to the room.
I stumbled when I saw her in the bed, her body so small and frail looking, and too pale. Not as bad as when I saw her on the floor, but still so incredibly void of color.
Rushing to her bedside, I picked up her hand as Cole moved to the other side of her bed. “Mom,” I whispered.
Her smile was faint. “Don’t squeeze my hand like I almost died.”
“Mom,” I laughed, sniffling. “You scared me half to death.”
She slowly turned her head toward Cole. “She’s been a wreck, hasn’t she?”
“She’s been holding it together,” he replied, grinning. “Though she almost started a fight earlier.”
I frowned at him. “What?”
“She said she was going to kiss your doctor,” he explained, and I rolled my eyes. “Wasn’t having that.”
“Of course not,” Mom replied, her words slow. “Not that . . . she would want to ever kiss another man when she has you—”
“Mom.” I shook my head.
Her gaze slid to me. “Honey, I might’ve had some crap shoved up my veins to stop a heart attack, but that does not mean I am . . . dead or blind.”
Cole chuckled.
“Geez,” I muttered.
It wasn’t long before Mom’s eyelids were lowering and it was taking longer in between each blink. Even though I wanted to camp out, it was time to leave. I glanced over at Cole, and he nodded. “I’ll come back later,” I told her.
She smiled tiredly. “Honey, you go home with Cole. Don’t—”
“Mom—”
“Don’t come back here. I’m going to be sleeping. Just go home with him and be safe,” she insisted, her weary gaze fixing on mine. “Be safe.”
I took a deep breath and then nodded. “Okay.” Rising, I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, honey.”
It took me a couple of moments to make myself leave her bedside. Once out in the hall, Cole turned to me. “You want to come back later, after dinner?”
I smiled faintly. “Yes.”
“We can do that after we pick up your clothes and get some food in you.”
Heading toward the elevator, I dug out my phone and hit the screen, quickly scanning texts. “Miranda and Jason are waiting for us at the inn.”
“They’re inside the inn?”
“Seems so.” I slipped my phone back in my purse. The elevator doors opened. “I don’t think I locked up afterward. I was in such a panic.” And honestly, what was the point? Someone already had a key most likely.
Snow was starting to fall again, dusting the parking lot and freshening up the snow already on the grass.
Cole’s steps slowed as his truck came into view. Tyron was waiting beside it, a black skullcap pulled low. “Would’ve called but heard you two were at the hospital,” he said. “How’s your mother?”
“They were able to stop the heart attack.” I took a deep breath as Cole tucked me into his side and ran his hand down the center of my back. Even with a jacket on, the gesture was comforting. “The doctor said it was minor compared to how bad it could’ve been. They’re going to keep her for a few days, but she should be okay.”
“That’s great news. Glad to hear it.” Tyron glanced between us. “And I think I have even more good news for you.”
At this point, I figured almost anything was good news.
Cole dropped his arm and reached down, finding my hand. “What’s going on?”
“Just heard from a unit who’s over at Mayor Hughes’ house.” Tyron stepped forward, voice low. “This isn’t the good-news part, but looks like he committed suicide earlier this afternoon. Left a note. That’s the good-news part. He admitted to everything.”
Cole curled an arm around my shoulders and hauled me forward, against his chest. We stood at the front doors of the inn a few hours after we left the hospital. The crime scene unit had just been leaving when we arrived. I imagined they’d combed the entire house. The room upstairs was still closed off, probably would be for several days.
“You’re going to be okay,” he said, folding his other arm around my waist. “Your mom’s going to be fine.”
Wrapping my arms around him, I rested my cheek against his chest. I tried to smile and failed. Too worried about my mom and unable to shake a wealth of nervous energy, I felt absolutely horrible for the mayor’s family. No matter what evil that man had done, I couldn’t imagine what his family was going through.
But there was something else nagging at me. I . . . I couldn’t help feeling like we were missing something—that I was missing something.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I said, opening my eyes. “Why would he do that to hide his secret? All it did was draw attention to what happened. I don’t get it.”
Cole didn’t immediately respond as he threaded his fingers through my hair. He knew what I did. That the mayor’s wife had found him in the office of his home with a single gunshot wound to the head and a suicide letter on the desk. According to Tyron, he admitted to not just the vandalism of our vehicles, but the murders of the three women and to mailing Angela’s finger to me. DNA hadn’t confirmed that the finger had belonged to her, but from what I gathered, due to the state of her body, it most likely was hers. He’d given no reason other than he could no longer live his life with, as Tyron said, “the shame of his family.”
It didn’t make sense.
And Cole had been stiff and tense ever since. He wasn’t saying it, but I knew he was thinking the same thing as me. The mayor had repeatedly showed his worry over me dragging up the past, and with the knowledge Striker had given me, that was understandable since very few people knew he was related to the Groom. His actions today didn’t match his actions of the past.
“That’s why I’m heading over to his house with Tyron. It’s not my case or jurisdiction, but he’s going to get me in,” Cole finally said. “I want to see this for myself.”
I drew back, lifting my head. The crime scene was as it had been found, secured by the FBI and local law enforcement. “And you’re not going to get into trouble?”
“Myers will be pissed to see me, but he can’t do shit.” He cupped my cheeks. “Miranda and Jason are going to stay here until I get back. Or at least one of them,” he said, kissing my forehead. “I won’t be gone long. Okay?”
“’Kay,” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine and then he lowered his mouth. Cole kissed me, and there was nothing soft or slow about it. It was deep and rough, and all too brief. When he pulled back, those beautiful pale blue eyes were full of fire.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” I promised.
“Better be.” His hands lingered, almost like he didn’t want to let go, and honestly, I didn’t want him to. He brushed his lips over mine once more and then he did step back.
As he walked away, the urge to say “I love you” flared so brightly on the tip of my tongue, but the words didn’t come out. All I did was smile and give him a corny-ass finger wave that caused him to give me a crooked grin. And those words were burning a hole through my tongue as I walked back to the kitchen.
Miranda was sitting at the table, a bottle of water instead of wine in front of her. Jason was standing, leaning against the kitchen island.
“I almost told Cole I loved him,” I blurted out.
Jason blinked slowly. “Wow. That was random.”
“Why didn’t you?” Miranda asked, twisting in her seat.
“I don’t know. It just seems too . . . it’s too soon,” I said, walking around the island to the fridge, in bad need of the full sugary power of a Coke. “And really bad timing to drop those three words.”
“Is there really any perfect time?” Miranda folded her arms across her chest.
Jason grinned as he moved to the other side of the island and leaned into it. “I’d say anytime other than the mayor of the town admitting to killing women and then shooting himself would be it.”
She shot him a look. “Okay. I’ll give you that, but that’s all.”
“Where’s Cole heading to again?” Jason asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.
I took a drink of the carbonated goodness and then lowered the bottle to the counter. “He was going over to the mayor’s house.”
“Why?” he asked.
Fiddling with the lid, I shrugged. “He wanted to see the scene for himself.”
Miranda glanced over at Jason. “Is it some inherent cop thing that makes him want to visit a crime screen?”
“I think it’s more of seeing everything with his own eyes kind of thing.” I took another drink as they stared at me, and the look on Miranda’s face said there was more. And there was. These two people were my closest friends. I could share my suspicions with them. “Do you guys . . . think Mayor Hughes really did those things?”
Miranda’s dark brows knitted together. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “He killed himself and left a letter saying he did those things.”
“Tyron said it looked like a suicide, but he hadn’t been over there yet. I don’t even know if the agents had been there at that point.” Stepping back, I leaned against the counter. “It just . . . it doesn’t make sense.”
“Crazy typically doesn’t make sense,” Miranda replied. “And serial killers are a special brand of crazy.”
“Actually, serial killers are usually the opposite of crazy,” Jason said, shrugging one shoulder. “They’re usually very smart.”
“Killing people for pleasure is the height of insanity,” she replied. “That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.”
I looked at Jason. “So you don’t think the mayor was a serial killer?”
His gaze slid to mine. “I don’t know what to think, but he admitted to everything, right? The vandalism. Cutting off Angela’s finger and sending it to you? We may never know why he did it.”
A fine shiver curled down my spine. Angela’s finger? My heart dropped. “What did you say?”
His gaze came to mine. “What?”
Ice dripped across the base of my neck. “You said he . . . he cut off Angela’s finger and sent it to me. No one has confirmed that it was her finger. I didn’t even tell you that was in the suicide note.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“No,” I whispered. I knew I didn’t tell him that. We just had this conversation. “I . . . I didn’t.”
Miranda frowned as she looked up at Jason. “She didn’t tell me that.”
“Well, it doesn’t take a huge leap of logic to assume that’s what he did,” Jason explained. “The finger was missing from Angela and . . .” He trailed off, straightening.
My lips slowly parted. It was safe to assume that if anyone was copying the Groom, they’d cut off the ring finger. “The police had never confirmed that Angela was missing a finger or that it was sent to me.”
“Shit,” Jason muttered.
A cold, harsh realization slammed into my gut as I pushed away from the counter. Air lodged in my throat. Panic burst through me. “Miranda—”
Jason whipped around so fast, I almost couldn’t believe it was possible. His fist connected with her temple, the fleshy thud knocking the air out of my lungs. She didn’t even have a chance to cry out or blink.
Miranda slid out of the chair, crumpling onto the floor. Once down, she didn’t move. Shouting, I started toward her, but drew up short when Jason stepped in front of her.
“I wanted a little more time.” Jason reached up and removed his glasses, carefully folding and slipping them into the front pocket of his shirt. “But this was bound to happen.”