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“I know the drill,” Laura said, which was unfortunately true.
“Better than most,” Nate added. She was grateful for the backup. “Thanks, Doc. She going to need anything else?”
“That should do it.” The doctor nodded, moving to the door of the private room. “When you’re ready, you should be good to check out.”
“Thanks,” Laura said, belatedly, as the door closed. She felt like her timing was a little off; lag, maybe, from all the visions and the headaches and the physical fight. She’d come straight to the hospital from the scene, no time for a break or decompression, and it had been a whirlwind of assessment and stitches and blood transfusions. And all the rest. The fear for Nate. For Amy. The need for a drink. The need, always unfulfilled, to see Lacey.
It was a wonder she wasn’t permanently lagged.
“How are you doing?” Nate asked, seeming to read her mind. He stood awkwardly by the bed, his arms folded across his chest.
“I could do with sleeping for a week,” Laura said. “How did it go while I was getting my stitches?”
“Sheriff’s handling the crime scene.” Nate shrugged. “Bronston didn’t tell Thomas anything. Looks like he was just… insane. Like you said. Targeting you. He must have fooled the psychiatric tests to get himself released. We’ve got local cops going to examine his apartment, see if they can find anything else, but it seems like everything is just about wrapped up.”
“That’s good,” Laura said. She rested her head back against the pillows, wishing she could stay longer. She had only been at the hospital a few hours, but if the doctor said she was well enough to travel, then she was well enough. Still, she could sleep on the plane. Then at home, hopefully. She would get a day off to cope with the injury, at the very least.
And mandatory counseling to deal with having stabbed a perp to death. Laura didn’t want to think about that. She’d have to deal with it when it came to it.
“Look, uh…” Nate hesitated, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching for her hand. Laura flinched it away, trying to pretend that she was coincidentally just getting up as he sat down, swinging herself around to sit facing in the opposite direction. “Laura, you just did it again.”
“Did what?” she asked, reaching for her watch from the surface by the bed and busying herself with doing up the strap. She couldn’t bear for him to touch her. She didn’t want to know. She was so afraid. She had always felt the shadow of death was further off, not gathering pace with the investigation. And if she hadn’t just saved his life from the real danger…
She couldn’t face it. She didn’t want to feel that shadow of death hanging on him again. Not yet.
“Avoided me.” Nate sighed. “You’ve been acting weird this whole case. And that’s saying something, because you’re always weird as hell.”
Laura flinched again—at his words, this time. His opinion mattered to her. Hearing him describe her that way, like he saw her just as everyone else did…
“Which is one of the things I like about you,” Nate add
ed quickly, reacting to her expression. “I like that you have that mysterious edge, that you’re different from other agents. I love that we can trust each other. It’s just that, this time… I’m worried about you.”
“I’m just a little sore,” she said, making to hop off the bed.
“Laura.” Nate’s voice was hard and flat. It was unusual enough for him that she froze and looked at him, turning over her own shoulder. “Stop. I… I’ve known for a while that the things you do are… strange. The insights you get. You always chalk it up to luck, but it’s just not possible for that to be the case so often. I don’t know how you know, but you know things I don’t. Things no one knows.”
Laura bit her lip. “Nate,” she said, shaking her head, her voice cracking. “I can’t—”
“I know you don’t want to tell me,” Nate said. His voice was steady and soft, washing over her. “I’m a patient man. I can wait. But if we’re going to stay partners, you need to let me in. Sooner or later, you have to let me in.”
Laura’s shoulders slumped. Privately, though she wasn’t going to admit it out loud, she knew he was right. She had lost partners before because she would not open up. They had become suspicious of her, in the end, thinking that she had some confidential informant or other trick up her sleeve that she wasn’t letting them in on. They would grow jealous, call her a bitch who was only out to further her own career. Then it would be over.
Nate was different, had always been different. They had managed to get along this far. But she had always known, at the back of her mind, that this day would probably come. Maybe it was time. Maybe telling him now would be the right thing to do.
Nate’s hand landed on her shoulder, and even though Laura froze in anticipation of that awful shadow of death coating everything around her, it was faint this time. Soft and indistinct, like gauze. Disappointment was tempered with relief. She had somehow managed to delay it, to push it further off in to the future. But still, it was there. The sickening reminder that he was going to die.
That’s why I can’t tell him.
And a second wave washed over her, the feeling coming on thicker and murkier than before, like someone had thrown a heavy curtain across the window.
“I’ll see you outside,” Nate said, getting up and taking his hand away. The color returned to the room, and Laura gulped in a breath as he left her on her own.
Laura pushed her hands against her forehead, trying to keep down a burst of nausea. What did this all mean? She’d been considering telling him, and the shadow had eased off a little. But the moment she decided not to, it had come back in full force.
Was he supposed to know?
Was telling him about her ability the one thing she would be able to do to change his fate—and save his life?
