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The final clue—a quote from Ernest Hemmingway. How poetic.
I release a lengthy breath and meet Quinn’s eyes. He nods once, giving me permission, and I don’t hesitate. I holster my gun and drop down beside Avery.
“It’s okay,” I assure her. My arms link her bare shoulders. The red dress has been mutilated. I can feel the welts covering her skin against my arms. Her body shakes, tremors and I’m sure sheer exhaustion wracking her limbs. “Shh…” I soothe. “Avery, it’s going to be okay.”
I continue to repeat reassurances to her as the EMTs enter the hull. Carson has located bolt cutters and proceeds to cut her chains away at the go-ahead from one of the EMTs.
Her body is broken. Her mind isn’t fairing any better. Her once vibrant brown irises are glazed and refuse to make contact with mine. She hasn’t looked up from the floor once to acknowledge anyone. She’s been staring at the ground for so long, beaten and trained to stare at it—and she’s in shock.
But she’s alive.
This is not her fairytale ending.
She won’t spring to her feet and whoop for joy to her saviors, like they do in the movies. She won’t even cry tears of relief. She will tremble and puke and roil in the sickness until the medics clear her to be given a sedative where she can sleep off the shock.
For once, I wish she could experience just one more thing of mine. I wish he was killed right before her. I fear she will never be able to go into a dark room, or turn off the lights in her lab to inspect evidence, without the fear of him finding her again.
And so that’s what I offer her.
As I follow the EMTs escorting Avery toward the deck level of the boat, I clasp her hand, squeeze tightly until her head whips around and her eyes finally see—really see—mine.
Against protocol, I pull her away and toward the dead man being photographed on the ship’s floor. “Look at him,” I say to her as I kneel down and tear his mask away. “Imprint him into your m
emory.”
For just a moment, as her gaze takes in his limp body, her shivers subside. Then, turning to me, she says, “Thank you.”
* * *
It’s past midnight, and the hospital is still catering to the ACPD. Lukewarm coffee and donuts have been brought in by the unis. Prayers have been uttered in the hallways. Nurses offer weak but reassuring smiles to the cops littering the waiting room.
Avery deserves all the encouragement. No one has been able to see her, which is for the best. She’s not ready. But she will appreciate so many of her fellow crime fighters offering their support. When she’s ready.
I sit with my back up against the cool wall, savoring the quiet. In this wing of the hospital, it’s slow and dim. An overhead light is blown, and my eyes desperately need a break from the fluorescents.
I don’t know when I shut my eyes, but they pop open at the feel of a cup slipping between my hands. It’s warm…much warmer than the weak coffee I had earlier. I take a sip. “Thanks.”
Quinn slips down on the floor beside me. “I almost didn’t wake you, but you looked too comfortable.”
I smile. “That’s a bad thing, apparently.”
“Terrible.” He brings his own coffee up and takes a long sip. “So they found my tooth in Simon’s pocket.”
“You going to get it back?”
“Funny.” He glances at me. “Obviously, it’s going into an evidence locker where it will rot.”
I shrug against the wall. “Too bad. We could’ve given it a proper burial. I know how you’ll miss it.”
“Smart ass.”
Silence settles between us as we drink our coffee. As the uncomfort of it stretches out, my chest tightens. “I need to see my mother, and Colton…before you bring me in,” I say, breaking the quiet.
He runs his palms along his slacks, wiping away the creases. Even now, he has to keep things in order. “I’ve made a decision on that,” he says, continuing to rub at nonexistent wrinkles. “I just came from my debriefing. Proctor had a pile of paperwork for me.”
I turn to look at him. “He couldn’t cut you some slack tonight?”
He huffs a laugh. “You’d think. But no, there was still the matter of Connelly’s death to close out.”
