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“Day’s going to spend the night with George. Keely and Pete are on their way to stay the night there as well.”
“How’s Jenny?” Moira asked, her voice full of gravel as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
I gave her a somber smile as I leaned against the ambulance, crossing my arms over my chest. “Cassidy is getting the duct tape off her mouth with something.”
“Grant,” she croaked, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I—”
I shook my head, cutting her off. “Don’t apologize, Moira. Please. This wasn’t your fault.”
“She’s got a bed at the regional hospital in Hot Springs now, we gotta go,” said the EMT as he hopped into the back with Moira.
“I’ll meet you there, okay?” I managed to say before they shut the door.
Deputies continued to linger as the ambulances drove away—three of them, one for Moira, one for Henry, and one for Kirk.
I knew at that moment that we’d never see Kirk again. They’d found his car roughly three miles from here filled with weapons, chains, and weights. Moira had given a quick statement about what went down, mentioning the bloodcurdling plan he had for both her and Day.
Drowning them in a nearby lake, somewhere nobody would ever find their bodies.
I felt like I was in a daze as I walked through my house, still crawling with law enforcement. I looked up at the ceiling where bullet holes dusted the drywall in the foyer, where Henry had fired shots into the ceiling in front of Day to make his presence known to Kirk, who, at the time, had had a knife pressed to Moira’s back.
Kirk had managed to sneak into the property, likely taking hours to do so. He’d come in through the moonroof in the guest bathroom upstairs, had taken the pane straight out of the roof and slipped inside under the cover of night. He’d snuck past every exterior camera, but the interior cameras caught the entire thing.
I watched the footage without blinking.
My heart shattered in my chest as I watched the view of the kitchen when Moira and Day were there and Moira was begging her son to run.
I closed my eyes for a moment before grabbing my keys.
No one, I promised whatever God above was listening, would ever touch them again.
ChapterThirty
Moira
Grant helped me up the stairs sometime midday. Rain was thundering against the metal roof on the front porch, the first storm we’d had in weeks.
I would have been excited. I would have dragged Day out into the downpour and danced.
But that was before Kirk almost killed us both.
I’d spent the last several hours at the hospital. The stitches at the base of my skull ached as Grant scooped me into his arms and carried up the remainder of the stairs into his bedroom.
Our bedroom.
He laid me down in bed, pulling the sheets over my body as I rolled onto my side and brought my knees to my stomach.
We hadn’t spoken in the car. He was pissed the sheriff’s department had the nerve to demand that I come to the station for questioning right after being discharged from the hospital and had paced in the waiting room while I gave a detailed statement about what had happened yesterday, as well as my history with Kirk.
I’d recounted our relationship and what my life had been like for the last seven years in hiding, jumping from place to place and job to job.
All I knew now was that Kirk was going back to prison for a long, long time, and Grant was dead-set on holding the FBI accountable for their grave oversight.
I didn’t have the energy to even think about it anymore.
All I wanted was Day.
Grant left the room, closing the door behind him. I drifted in and out of sleep for an hour, riding the edge of sweet, pitch black and dreamless oblivion before I heard George’s truck pull into the driveway.
