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“Shut up,” she screeched. “You're going to . . .”
Another bang shattered the room.
Clara expected to see Jonathon drop down beside her, but instead when she looked up she could no longer see Ruth.
She assumed it was Jonathon’s partner who had just shot the old lady, but when she turned in the direction the bullet had been fired from, she saw her sister.
“Naomi?”
“Is she dead?” Naomi asked breathlessly.
Kneeling, Jonathon replied a moment later, “She’s dead.”
“Good.” Naomi swayed and toppled over.
“Naomi! Jonathon, go see if she’s okay,” she insisted when he crouched beside her.
“You're bleeding,” he gestured at her shoulder.
“I'm okay; it’s not that bad. Naomi is unconscious. Go make sure she's all right,” she pleaded.
Looking torn, Jonathon did as she asked, going to Naomi and pressing his fingers to her neck. “Her pulse is weak, and it looks like the stitches in her shoulder have popped. She’s bleeding. She’s supposed to be in the hospital. I have no idea what she’s doing here or how she even knew where we were. I’ll bring her over to you so I can keep an eye on both of you.” Picking her sister up, he carried Naomi over to her and laid her down on the ground. Clara grabbed one of her sister’s hands and clutched it tightly. Then Jonathon grabbed a tea towel from the counter and held it to her wound. “Are you really okay?”
She let out a long shaky breath. Her shoulder throbbed, but it didn’t seem to be bleeding too badly, and relief that Job and Ruth Lincoln were dead and the Doll Killer murders were over forever far outweighed the pain. “I'm really okay.”
“Jonathon, I heard gunshots,” Allina’s voice called.
“We’re in the kitchen,” he yelled back, his hand pressing more firmly to her shoulder. “We need at least two ambulances, maybe three. Clara was shot, Naomi is unconscious, and I'm not sure if Job Lincoln is still alive.”
“Naomi Candella?” Allina appeared, assessing the scene. “What is she doing here?”
“I have no idea, but she saved my life. Is Job dead?”
“I've got a pulse, extremely weak. He’s bleeding out. I don’t even know if he’ll make it till the ambulance arrives. Are you okay with Clara and Naomi while I call for backup?”
“Yeah,” Jonathon hadn’t taken his eyes off her during his exchange with his partner.
Adrenalin was seeping from her body along with the blood. She was crashing quickly now that everything was over. Her eyes met Jonathon’s, held his gaze, tried to decipher the mess of emotions swirling around them. The fear and relief were obvious, but there was something much deeper—respect, admiration, attraction, maybe even love.
“You hanging in there?” Jonathon asked as he adjusted his hold on the towel at her shoulder.
Sleepy now, Clara managed a nod as her eyelids fluttered closed. Too tired to open them again, she let them remain shut. “Stay with me,” she murmured.
“Of course, I'm not going anywhere.”
Whether she should say it or not, she wasn't sure. Whether or not it was too soon or not, she wasn't sure of that, either. Sheshouldbe embarrassed, but she didn’t have enough energy left for another emotion. Regardless of the consequences, the words slipped from her lips, “I love you.”
February 14th
7:52 P.M.
Nervous anticipation fluttered through her as the doorbell rang.
Clara hadn’t seen Jonathon again since she’d closed her eyes back in Job and Ruth Lincoln’s kitchen. Exhaustion had taken hold, and she’d passed out, remaining unconscious throughout the ride to the hospital, and while being examined and treated in the emergency room. When she finally woke up in the early evening, Jonathon had left to tie up the case.
Her brothers had coerced her into spending the night in the hospital, but she hadn’t gotten much sleep. The bed wasn't her bed, and nurses kept coming in to check on her, plus she couldn’t relax properly without Jonathon’s arms around her. First thing in the morning she had insisted that the place where she was going to recover the best was her own home. Dylan and Davis had brought her home, but when they’d offered to stay with her, she’d declined, saying she needed some alone time to process everything that had happened.
Clara had used the hours alone to over think and obsess.
