“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble. But then again, why did you insist that I bring him? You knew he’d be nodding off soon.”

“I’ll explain it all in a little while.”

A few minutes later, Henry had fallen asleep. Bryce took him into the other room and then returned. He walked behind the bar. “Can I get you something?”

“Nope.” I cleared my throat. “And I’d rather you not drink tonight either.”

Bryce shuffled back a step. “Yeah? All right. What the hell’s going on, Joe?”

God, where to start? Here was my best friend in the whole world, and I was about to tell him that I thought his father was a child molester and murderer. Was our friendship strong enough to weather the storm this would bring on?

Bryce had had a good childhood. He’d always lived in town, as his father was an attorney in Snow Creek before he became the mayor. The Simpson family wasn’t super rich, but they were well off. Bryce had been a great kid—always smiling, always ready for any new adventure that the two of us could dream up.

“You going to talk?” he asked.

I nodded. “Remember once, how you said I’d changed? We were around fourteen, I guess.”

“No. Wait…yeah. You got different after that summer. More closed off. Not as much fun anymore. You’d go days without talking. You never explained why. Of course, now I know why.”

“Yeah. Now you know. But you don’t know everything.”

“What haven’t you told me?”

“That we think we’ve found another one of Talon’s abductors.”

“Seriously? That’s great!”

I closed my eyes and inhaled.

“You should be ecstatic, then.”

“I should be, yes.”

“Then why so glum?”

“Remember how Larry insinuated that you knew one of the others personally?”

“Yeah. But that can’t possibly be true. I’ve racked my brain to come up with someone I know who might be such a sick person. And Joe, I’ve got nothing.”

I breathed in, out, steadily, though my heart was beating a mile a minute. “Bryce, we have—”

The doorbell rang.

Saved by the bell again.

I shivered, relief overwhelming me. A five or ten-minute reprieve from telling my friend that his father was a psycho iceman seemed like a lifetime.

I stood. “Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I walked, more slowly than usual, to the door. I opened it.

Talon stood on my front deck.

“Hey, Tal. What’s going on?”

He walked in, his eyes laced with fire. “Mills and Johnson matched another set of fingerprints on that business card of Morse’s we found in Jade’s old room.”

“Great. Whose are they?”

He turned to me, meeting my gaze. “It’s not good news.”

Chapter Eight

Melanie

When I woke up, I was in an ambulance, an oxygen mask over my face, an IV in my arm. A paramedic was working on cleaning the cuts on my right hand.

I made a small croak.

“You’re awake? How are you feeling?” The paramedic removed the mask.

“About how I look, I’m sure.” I coughed.

He placed the mask back over my nose and mouth. “Don’t try to talk. We’re almost to the hospital. They’ll take good care of you there.”

“The cop?” I tried to choke out.

But he was clearly done listening to me. He didn’t remove the mask.

When we arrived, I was laid on a stretcher and taken into the ER at Valleycrest.

“We have a female, twisted ankle, multiple lacerations on her hands and arms. Says she’s been exposed to CO. No ID. We’re guessing in her thirties.”

“Thank you,” a male voice said. “Get her in room five. We need to draw some blood.”

Within a few minutes, I was in one of the ER exam rooms, and a nurse entered.

“Hello, ma’am, I just have to take— Dr. Carmichael?”

I looked up, my vision fuzzy. I recognized the nurse but couldn’t place her name.

“Is that you, Dr. Carmichael?”

I nodded and moved to remove the mask.

“No, keep that on. I’m going to take some blood for testing. My God, what happened to you?”

I couldn’t answer, and not because of the oxygen mask.

Blackness descended like a curtain around me.

 

I awoke again in a hospital bed. I quickly looked at my bandaged hands. No handcuffs, thank God. After the nurse—what was her name?—had identified me, I hoped the officer would believe my story. Seemed that he had.

I quickly pressed the button on my remote control to call the nurse.

A few seconds later, a young woman in green scrubs entered. “Yes, Dr. Carmichael?”

I removed my oxygen mask. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”

“It’s Thursday evening. A little after eight p.m. Your doctor’s here, doing his rounds. He’ll be in to see you in a minute.” She smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

I attempted a smile but couldn’t quite get there. “Maybe a drink? I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, but for some reason, I’m craving something with sugar.”

“Of course. A soda? Maybe some fruit juice?”

“Apple juice, if you have it. Thank you.”

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back.” She turned, and a young man entered. “Here’s Dr. Hernandez now. He’ll update you on your condition.”

The tall young man approached me. “Dr. Carmichael, I’m Mark Hernandez. How are you feeling?”

I cleared my throat. It was dry and scratchy. “Thirsty. Slightly light-headed.”

“Not surprising.” He picked up my chart and examined it. “You did have carbon monoxide in your bloodstream, although not enough to do any lasting damage. I’m surprised you remained conscious as long as you did, however.”

“Adrenaline does amazing things.”

He chuckled. “Indeed, it does. The CO should completely leave your system within the next twelve hours. We’ve X-rayed you. No lasting damage to your hands, and as for your ankle, it’s bruised and swollen, but there are no fractures. Just a light sprain. It will feel much better in a few days.”