“My wife,” he said, pointing two houses down.
I followed his finger. In the window, an older woman stood in a flowered nightgown, arms crossed tight over her chest, face hard as stone as she stared back at us.
“But?” I prompted.
“But she said she won’t move Ginny until Mrs. Kolter says it’s okay.”
I exhaled slowly. “I see.”
I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“Nicole,” I said in a kind tone. “We need to get you checked out by the EMTs.” I paused, choosing my words carefully. “Whatever happened here tonight, I need to get on it. Find who did this. And I need to know you’re being taken care of while I do. So, please, can we send the dog back home?”
Her eyes lifted to mine. Sharp and clear.
“Well,” she said, “first of all, Ginny can go wherever she wants. She’s not on a leash.”
That did nothing to calm me. Not with a dog that size sitting like it had been placed there with a death order.
“She’s really friendly,” Nicole went on. “She just wants to make sure I’m safe.”
“You are safe,” I said.
Her laugh came out dry and short.
“Yeah. Really safe. You all did an excellent job.”
I pressed my lips together. “I mean, you’re safe now,” I tried again.
“Am I?” she asked. “Because the last time I checked, I was almost murdered by the same man who killed Zach. The one on the gas station video. Covered in blood. The one Mrs. Dustin warned us about.” Her eyes never left mine. “The same man Thomas Harlow and his lap dog, Deputy Attorney General Kara Belmont, said shouldn’t be looked into.”
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t have to.
“The same man with the scar on his forehead.” She tipped her head slightly toward Mr. Warner.
“The same man Mr. Warner saw here tonight. Brown eyes. Big scar on his forehead. And now,” she added, petting Ginny, “he’s got bite marks all over him. Makes him easier to find now, doesn’t it?”
I held her gaze.
She wasn’t ranting. She wasn’t spiraling. She was setting the record straight.
The system had failed her. Failed her family. Failed in a way that couldn’t be undone. And, if I was honest, it felt like I had failed her too.
I lowered myself onto the ground so we were level. The wet, cold grass soaked through my pants, but I didn’t care.
“I’m sorry, Nicole,” I said. No badge voice. No script. “I really am so, so sorry.”
She looked at me as if she was weighing something. As if she needed to know if I meant it or if this was just a show. Then her iron expression softened a little.
“What can I do to help you?” I asked. “To get you taken care of?”
Her chin lifted, proud even as she winced in pain. God, she was so strong.
“I want the same thing I’ve been asking for since these useless idiots arrived,” she said, nodding toward the police officers.
The idiot next to me, the one who’d wanted to shoot the dog, opened his mouth. I cut him off with a look.
“And what is that?” I asked.
