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The two bedrooms are clean. The furniture has been cleared out, with the exception of a single bed and a table. I find more wrappers and crinkled aluminum foil, a waste basket filled with an abundance of potential evidence, and more powder on the tabletop with notable scratches.
A post-it note left on the windowsill catches my eye. For a moment, I’m so drawn to it that I don’t hear the man coming up from behind. I feel the blow to my side and the heat spreading through my ribcage. I curse under my breath and try to turn around so I can confront my assailant.
I barely see the brown eyes before the butt of his gun connects with the side of my head.
Stinging pain. Red lights.
The smell of musky aftershave. The taste of blood in my mouth.
I lose my balance and fall to the floor. His boots keep kicking me, harder and harder. I feel my ribs cracking. The pain is unbearable. Cold sweat seeps through my pores, my vision hazy and my breath uneven as each inhale feels like torture, like nails scraping through my trachea. I hear the black boots walking away, but then he turns around.
The sound of the safety being clicked off on the gun.
The faces of all the people I love and hold most dear flicker past my fading eyes.
I expect to hear the deafening blast of a gunshot.
But it never comes.
Only darkness.
“Kellan, honey, please wake up.”
A woman’s voice pulls me from the darkness. Where am I? It feels nice and warm, but it’s not where I remember myself to have been. It’s strange. It’s as if a whole chunk of time was stolen, snatched right out of my grip, and now I’m staggering through the shadows, trying to find my way back into the light.
“Kellan please, wake up.”
It’s not Avery. Her tone is softer. Sweeter. Like honey on toast. It is familiar, though, and it’s beckoning me to her. She knows me. Do I know her?
I was in Brady. Marlon was warning me about a suspect, but I didn’t see anybody down there until it was too late. Until I was attacked.Attacked. He came at me hard.The gun. He had a gun, and steel-toed boots that rammed into my ribs most viciously. That’s why every fucking breath hurts. Why my whole body feels like it was set on fire. Why my eyes are struggling to open and why I feel as if I’ve been through twelve rounds with a heavyweight champion.
“Kellan, wake up.”
Finally, my eyes peel open. They sting like hell. There is nothing but acute discomfort everywhere. Not a single good feeling. Not even the relief of being alive. I thought I was a goner. White lights blind me from above. Overhead neon strips. The smell of bleach and…fuck, I’m in the hospital.
“Kellan.”
“Charlene?” I manage, my voice barely a whisper as I recognize the bright red hair and the soft features that once captured my body and my mind. I recoil from the memory, though. Fear and disgust blow through me like a strong winter wind, chilling me to the bone. “What are you doing here?”
“I came as soon as I heard,” Charlene says, taking a cautious step back.
I’m in a private room. I know these pale green walls all too well. I’m in North Platte General. I can hear the nurses’ calls through the PA system, calling for doctors and other various needs. I’m hooked to a machine that’s monitoring my vitals. There’s an IV drip going into my left arm. Fuck, every inch of me hurts, and I have no idea why Charlene is by my bedside.
“As soon as you heard what?” I ask, trying to make sense of it all. “How long have I been here?”
“Less than an hour,” she says. “I overheard somebody at the station. I was down there looking for you, actually.”
“Where’s my brother?”
“I think he’s on his way. The nurse said all your next of kin have been notified. I made sure they called Avery, too.”
I give her a confused look. Since when is Charlene Maddox so sweet? Even when she first came up to me after getting out ofprison, I could tell she was ready for a brutal fight despite her fake pleasant smile and brazen physical touching.
“What the hell is going on here?” I groan as I try to sit up, but the pain keeps me pinned down in an uncomfortable position. I got my ass handed to me, and I don’t know who to go after.
“Try not to move too much,” Charlene says, the concern etched deeply across her face. “I’m going to leave soon, don’t worry. I don’t want Fallon to see me here. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Who found me?”
