Mom had done so, then pushed past her husband to look out the back door. Zach could still hear her screams.
It was Bran who had put an arm around Zach and taken him to the living room, where they’d huddled together, mostly invisible, as the police and medics and eventually a medical examiner came and went. Bran had never left Zach. Not once.
This felt...a little like that. As if he had a grip on sanity only because of the man at his side.
“You have a brother,” Tess had reminded him.
Now he thought with faint amazement, I guess I do.
Footsteps came and went in the hall outside the small waiting room. There were other patients here, after all. He’d heard an ambulance not long ago, after which someone had been rushed by on a gurney. It had gotten so he had quit stiffening each time. But suddenly a doctor dressed in green scrubs filled the doorway. He introduced himself, though two seconds later Zach couldn’t remember his name.
He was smiling. “She’s awake. She has a heck of a headache, which the coughing isn’t helping, but she’s lucid and remembers what happened.”
He kept talking but Zach had slumped forward, elbows braced on his knees, trying to deal with the flood of relief. She’s awake. She’s lucid.
“She keeps saying, ‘Tell Zach the receiver is outside.’” The doctor shook his head. “Whatever that means.”
“We found it,” Bran said after a quick glance at Zach. He stood and held out his hand. “Detective Bran Murphy, HCSD. I’m Zach’s brother. This is Tess’s father.”
“Ah.” The doctor shook hands first with Bran then with John. “I can’t let all of you back there, but I think your daughter would be glad to see you, Mr. Granath.”
Her father shook his head. His smile was wry, maybe an after-effect of the stroke, but...maybe not. “I suspect it is Zach she needs to see most.”
Zach shot to his feet. “You’re sure?”
John nodded, his eyes wet now, too. “Yes.”
“Then follow me,” the doctor said.
* * *
TESS FELT AS if her head had been split open by an ax. Every time she coughed, she came close to blacking out from the pain. She wanted to black out.
Moaning, she remembered she was supposed to push a little button for pain relief. She did. Maybe her head didn’t feel like a melon that was about to fall into two separate pieces afterward, which was a minor improvement.
“Tess.”
Hearing the ragged, deep voice, she forced her eyes open. “Zach,” she whispered. “It was you.” Somebody—she didn’t recall who—had told her he was the one who’d gotten her out. “You came back.”
“I did.” His expression was anguished. “I wish I hadn’t left.”
She reached out for him and their hands met, his clasp careful. “They’d have waited until I was alone,” she said in a small, rough voice. “Would have happened—” a coughing bout wrung her out “—sooner or later.”
“God,” he said. He looked around and found a chair, letting her go long enough to pull it closer to her bed. Then he took her hand again. “I’ve never been so scared.”
“Me, either.”
“Your dad’s here,” he said.
She licked dry lips. “He...okay?”
“Scared, too.”
She’d have nodded if she didn’t know what that would do to her head. “It was Hayes,” she managed to choke out. “He turned on the light so I could see him. Told me what he was going to do. ‘Sorry, babe, you’re gonna knock over this candle.’”
Zach did some serious swearing, which caused him to start coughing.
Tess focused enough to see the array of tiny cuts on his arms, colored by disinfectant, and the bandage that added bulk beneath the T-shirt on his shoulder. “You’re hurt.”
“Nothing major. It’ll take a day or two for my lungs to clear. But you—” His voice broke.
“Head hurts,” she said fretfully.
“I know. I know, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek and temple, the bridge of her nose, his fingertips gentle, comforting.
She let her eyes sink closed.
“I shouldn’t ask,” he said softly, as if he thought she might have nodded off, “but I will. Give me another chance, Tess. Please.”