Page 177 of Angel

Angel said little.

I added that Roxy must have found out about us living here from a common friend, Chloe.

‘What’ll happen to my sister?’ I asked, rubbing my pregnant belly.

‘We can’t say for sure until the prosecutor gets involved,’ McDaniel replied, clicking his pen shut and shutting his notebook. ‘She’ll likely go away for a long time for attempted murder.’

‘She won’t be coming anywhere near you two again, I can promise you that,’ Lindqvist added.

The officers wrapped up, offered a brief nod of sympathy, and left us in our ruined kitchen.

I hauled myself up off the ground, my knees weak as I tried to coax Angel to stand up.

‘Come on, honey, let’s get you off the floor,’ I urged, trying to pull his good arm.

He remained still, pinned to the floorboards as if frozen in time.

I padded into the bar, poured a double shot of amber whiskey into a tumbler, and brought it back to him.

He ignored the glass, sitting motionless with his gaze fixed on the ruined back door.

‘Angel, please drink this,’ I pleaded, but he just shuddered, his jaw locked in shock.

Panic fluttered in my ribs as I realized he wasn’t responding.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed Jude’s number.

‘Roxy, what’s up?’ Jude answered on the second ring, his tone easy.

‘Jude, it’s Evangeline,’ I muttered. ‘She escaped from her facility. She came to the farmhouse with a shotgun and broke in through the back door and shot at us.’

‘The hell?’ Jude growled. ‘Roxy, are you OK? Tell me you’re safe.’

‘She tried to kill us, Jude,’ I sobbed, pressing my hand over my mouth to steady my breathing. ‘Angel tackled her. She stabbed his shoulder before he knocked her out. The cops took her away, but now Angel won’t speak.’

Jude cursed, the harsh exhalation rattling over the line

‘Are you all safe? Is the baby OK?’

‘The medics checked; we’re all fine,’ I told him, trembling. ‘But Angel is sitting on the floor, staring into nothing. He won’t move or talk to me.’

‘Sounds like he’s in shock. Listen to me, Roxy,’ Jude growled, his tone commanding. ‘Stay put. I’m sending Dr. Hill, my therapist, to your place right now to handle Angel.’

‘Thank you, Jude,’ I whispered.

‘I’m also calling a crew to fix your doors. I’ll also get there as soon as I can.’

After hanging up, I eased myself, swollen belly and all, down onto the hard floorboards beside my husband.

I clasped his unbandaged hand, squeezing while resting my head against his uninjured arm.

Choosing silence, his fingers twitched in mine, holding on as we sat together on the floor until a firm knock sounded at the door.

Groaning, I used the kitchen counter ledge to pull myself up.

I opened the front door to find an unassuming man in a tweed jacket, charcoal trousers, and rimless glasses perched on his nose.

‘Dr. Hill, the therapist?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.