Right as she gets to the door, though, panic cuts through. What if he gets to her? What if she needs me? I start to sit up, but pain shoots through me, sending my entire body into a revolution against my desire to be with her.
“We’ve got her, Hun,” Rose says. It’s only after she says it that I realize my heart rate spiked and the monitor isn’t happy about it.
“She needs protection,” I say quickly. “If you give me a minute, I can come.” I try to sit again, but Anastasia shakes her head.
“You stay right where you are.”
“Hospital security is here,” Rose tells me. “They’ll escort us down, okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Anastasia assures me. “I’ll see you in just a bit, okay?”
My heart rate begins to slow, and I take a shallow breath, thanks to the whole only one working lung thing. “Okay.”
But as they leave the room, I have to actively fight every urge to get up and follow. And then—I lose the fight. She needs me there. They can yell at me later. I start to sit once more, but pain shoots through every inch of my body all over again. Hitting me from the top of my head down to my feet.
I fall back, breathing ragged.
Come on.
“You going to survive?”
At the new voice, I stop moving and open my eyes. Great. Jack is a few feet away from my bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. His hair is a mess on top of his head, and despite the bags under his eyes, his gaze is sharp.
“I’m optimistic,” I reply, repeating my earlier words to Garrison.
“Great. Listen, where is Anastasia?”
“With the doctor, getting her cast on.” He nods. “Is there something you need? I’m sure the nurses can show you the way.”
“Actually, I need to talk to you.”
“About?” If this is some kind of intimidation tactic, I am really not in the mood.
“I checked the shops around the shipping center the cat was sent from, looking for anyone who came in and bought a minutes-only phone. We got lucky at one.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws his phone, then turns it to face me.
A man wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses is standing at a register, a phone on the counter in front of him.
“We don’t have an ID since he paid with a pre-purchased gift card, but the description matches one given to us by a witness three years ago.”
Unease twists in my gut like a knife. Three years ago? But this all just started…right?
“That, coupled with the phone call escalation—one on contact night, two the next, then three, four, and finally a gift—matches the pattern of a serial killer we’ve been hunting for the last three years.”
“Serial killer?” Every single muscle in my body is on edge, every nerve firing at once.
I have to get to her.
“His last known hunting grounds were in Georgia, but it seems he’s relocated.”
“And he just so happened to choose Stormwatch Landing? And your ex-girlfriend?”
Jack clenches his jaw. “I’m not missing that connection, either. It’s possible he was watching me, and one of the times she came out to visit—” He trails off, anger rolling off of him like a heavy, invisible fog. “I never would have done anything to put her at risk. Never would have had her come if I’d thought, even for a second, that her life was in danger.”
Logically, I know that.
But, man, do I want to blame him. Because if he’d never stuck around, never asked her out, Anastasia would be safe right now.
Still, it’s not his fault.
