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“Jesus,” said Asher, entering the kitchen as the paramedics wheeled Peyton out of the kitchen. “Please tell me they’re all right.”
“They look to be,” Rhett explained, examining the floor. “But this blood spatter suggests otherwise.” He moved closer to the blood and squatted. “Someone was stabbed for sure, and since it’s not Peyton or Kinsley, it might be the perp.”
“Looks that way to me,” Boone said, moving next to Rhett, examining the direction of the blood. “Either Peyton or Kinsley got him right where it mattered.” An artery, for sure.
“Damn good hit,” said Rhett, taking his phone from his pocket and dialing. “It’s West,” he said. “We need crime techs out here.”
Boone stopped listening then. He left the kitchen, moving through the house, wanting to get to the hospital. He always believed in black and white, never wanting to take the law into his own hands. Until someone hurt her.
* * *
An hour had ticked by while Boone waited outside the hospital room, pacing the hallway, his rage shifting to an all-consuming guilt. He should have been there with them. Had he not left, they wouldn’t be hurt.
“Detective Knight?”
Boone glanced up, finding the young doctor wearing a white coat standing there. “Yes.” He moved closer. “How are they?”
“Peyton is just fine,” the doctor said, oblivious to how much pressure that took off Boone’s chest. “And your sister is recovering. She needed a dozen or so stitches to her head, but she’ll be fine, just sleeping off whatever drug she’s been given.”
“You’ve got no idea what drug that is?” Boone asked.
The doctor shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “I’ve sent your sister’s bloodwork off, but my guess is a sleeping drug of some sort. I couldn’t wake her up at all, no matter how hard I tried. We could counteract the drug, but I worry about her seizing, and she doesn’t seem to be in any distress. We’ll keep a close eye on her, though.”
“Thank you.” Boone offered his hand.
The doctor returned the handshake. “Feel free to reach out if you need anything else during the investigation. Your father is in with your sister now. Peyton’s awake, if you’d like to see her.”
Boone nodded and moved toward the doorway that the doctor had exited. He stopped right before he entered, freezing on the spot. He had seen many things that had disturbed him over the years, but none quite like Peyton lying in the hospital bed, bruises already forming on her arms, one shadowing her cheek. He leaned against the doorframe, the antiseptic scents filling the air around him, as did the beeps coming from the monitors in the room with her.
“Boone.”
He blinked at the softness in Peyton’s voice, realizing she was looking right at him. Needing to get closer, pulled by all the things he didn’t really understand or could explain, he immediately closed the distance and took a seat on her bed, gently taking her hands in his. “You were so brave today.” He kissed the top of her palm. “So fucking brave.”
When he glanced into her eyes again, she looked so damn tired, with dark circles under her eyes. “I stabbed him,” she choked out, her voice trembling.
“That was you, then?”
She nodded, her chin quivering. “Did I—”
Boone shook his head, kissing the top of her hand before addressing her again. “We didn’t find him. His left a trail of blood outside of your house that led into the forest then to tire tracks near the road.” Which was what he learned from Rhett a half an hour ago. “They’d brought in the station’s bloodhound to follow the trail, but that hadn’t gone anywhere. As far as I know, they’re still out there looking for him, and running DNA on his blood.”
Peyton blew out a long, deep breath and dropped her head back onto the pillow. “Is it horrible to say that I’m actually glad I didn’t kill him?”
“No, it’s not horrible,” he told her softly, unable to move away from her, desperate for the warmth of her touch. “You save lives, not take them.”
She shut her eyes a moment. “I was so scared.” His fingers tightened, wanting to keep her away from all this as her voice shook. “I thought he was going to kill us.”
Boone hated that he needed to ask anything now, but he wouldn’t let this fucker get away, not this time. “Did you get a look at him?”
She finally opened her eyes, tears welling. “He had a black mask on, but I remember his eyes. Icy blue. Cold. Dead.”
“That’s something.” He squeezed her hands harder, wishing he could take her into his arms, but he worried that if he did, he’d hold her too hard and hurt her. “And something is better than nothing.” He stared at her in the bed, thinking that, if he’d caught the bastard sooner, Peyton wouldn’t be lying there hurting.
Her soft hand came to his face then. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He snorted, bowing his head over her hands. He could only recall once in his life where everything unraveled like it did today. His lips pressed against her soft skin, smelling of vanilla and her. “When I watched my wife being arrested, I thought that would be the worst I would ever feel. But that pales in comparison to what I felt when I saw you lying on your kitchen floor.”
“Boone,” Peyton whispered, raw emotion in her voice. “I’m okay.”
