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In the back of Sylvie’s mind, she knew it was due to shock, but she didn’t care. It gave her the ability to reach for her weapon, which was holstered on her waist. Erin had predicted such a move, and she quickly attempted to stop Sylvie from succeeding in pulling her firearm from its holster.
The two of them were locked in a desperate struggle for control, and Sylvie needed to win. This was life or death, and she wasn’t ready to die. She pushed forward, knowing that Erin wouldn’t expect her to intentionally shove the knife deeper into her stomach. Such an unanticipated movement allowed Sylvie to aim and squeeze the trigger.
Sylvie gasped as the memory slammed into her.
A single tear slid down her temple.
How could she have missed such glaring signs?
Erin Smith had peppered Sylvie with questions regarding S&E Investigations for weeks. And yes, some had even been about Jacob Walsh. She had professed time and again about being a true crime fanatic. Sylvie had fallen for the excuse.
She had done her best to steer the attempts to cover such topics in another direction, though. Force of habit, maybe. She had never once suspected there was something more going on than just morbid fascination.
Sylvie couldn’t remember much after discharging her weapon, so she wasn’t sure if Erin Smith was dead or maybe even in another room at the same hospital.
What if the woman hadn’t been hurt at all?
Sylvie needed to know that her father was okay. She had come to terms with his terminal diagnosis, but dying from pancreatic cancer was completely different than being murdered by some psychopath. Needing answers to all the burning questions, she attempted to reach for the call button. Surely one of the nurses had put the device within reach.
She managed to turn her head without too much pain now that she had been awake for a few minutes. Her gaze landed on someone sleeping in the corner, and she smiled through the foggy pain. Even without her glasses, she recognized the individual by her bedside.
Bit.
Her best friend.
He was slumped in a chair, his grey hat askew on the top of his head. She squinted to make out the laptop that was precariously balanced on his lap. One sudden move would no doubt have it landing on the tiled floor below.
“Bit,” Sylvie managed to whisper, her voice barely audible as she tried to rouse him. It was difficult to get her voice to properly work. There was a soreness in her throat that hadn’t been there before, and she recalled the nurse saying something about surgery. She made a feeble attempt at clearing her throat enough to try again. “Bit.”
Considering that Bit survived on caffeine drinks and Skittles, it wasn’t a shock when he suddenly sat straight up and managed to save his laptop from crashing to the ground all in one motion.
“Little T? You’re awake,” Bit exclaimed as he quickly stood and slammed the lid to his laptop closed before setting the device on one of those large trays on wheels. “Don’t move. I’ll get the nurse.”
It took Sylvie a couple of times to get Bit’s attention, but he finally came to a stop by her side instead of running out the door. She held up her hand, not expecting him to grab ahold of hers so tight.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him to ease up.
“Erin Smith,” Sylvie said before pausing to lick her dry lips. “Is she alive?”
Bit seemed torn on whether to answer her. That, in and of itself, painted a grim picture. It was her turn to hold on tight to him when he would have tried to change the subject...or leave.
His blue eyes kept flicking toward the door.
It was then that Sylvie noticed the individual outside her window.
“Bit, is that a federal agent outside my door?”
“I should really go and get a nurse. Do you need more pain medication? What about—”
“Bit, the nurse already knows that I’m awake.” Sylvie had to stop when another sharp pain seemed to pierce straight through to her back. She managed to breathe through the discomfort until only a dull throbbing set up residence. “I spoke to her. Right now, I need you to tell me the truth. Is Erin Smith dead?”
“No.” Bit used his free hand to straighten out his knitted hat. “Erin Smith isn’t even Erin Smith. The real Erin Smith was found dead inside her own deep freezer.”
Sylvie needed time to process what Bit was saying, because she couldn’t wrap her mind around the information. If what he was relaying to her was the truth, that meant she hadn’t done enough due diligence on her father’s care.
Bit’s words implied that she had let a killer into her apartment.
Sylvie’s chest tightened, and it became a lot more difficult to breathe.
