She had no problem assuring her mom and dad that she was all right. And then spent the next five minutes struggling to get them to understand that they didn’t need to hop on plane. She would be fine, as the doctor had told t
hem both.
“But when you’re released, you shouldn’t be home alone, not with a head injury.” Her mother just wouldn’t let up. Her head hurt. Her throat was dry. But her thoughts were clearing, in spite of her brief attempt to hold them at bay.
“I won’t be alone, Mom,” she said. She had police watching her home, right? Or was that over now? Was Bill in custody?
She looked at Jayden. He nodded. It took her a second to realize he didn’t know she’d been wondering about Bill’s arrest.
The evening came tumbling back with speed. And clarity. To a point. There were some foggy areas. And some complete blankness, too.
“No...a friend will be staying with me.” She glanced at him again. He nodded again.
It made sense. If they didn’t have Bill yet, she was still in danger. Jayden had said he’d protect her. She remembered that clearly from the week before.
She remembered a lot more, too. Mostly everything.
When Jayden took the phone and assured her parents that the department would make certain that Emma didn’t go home alone, and that someone would let them know if anything changed, Emma closed her eyes.
And smiled.
* * *
“What did you tell my parents about us?” Emma’s question came after several minutes of silence while she seemingly dozed. She kept fading in and out, but the doctor had said some of that was due to the pain medication they’d given her.
Jayden had just slipped his phone back into his pocket when the question came. Her voice was getting stronger by the moment.
Emma still had spots of dried blood on her temple. And a spot to the left of her nose. Her normally flyaway curls were plastered to her forehead. They’d cut off the clothes she’d been wearing, in their haste to check her for possible injuries.
Assuming she made it through the next twenty-four hours without an unexpected glitch, she was going to be just fine. Thank all the powers that be.
“I told them that I’m a parole officer and we’ve been working on a case together.”
“So...when I just told them a friend would be staying with me, they didn’t know I meant you.”
“There’s no reason why they should.” He’d wanted them to know she was special to him the first time he’d spoken to them. The sensation came and went, depending on the moment.
She turned her head to stare up at the ceiling. “How long do I have to lie here?”
“They’re moving you to a room, just for tonight. Assuming everything goes as they expect, you’ll be free to leave tomorrow. You’re incredibly lucky...”
She could have died...
His stomach felt again the insidious twist of fear that had attacked him on and off since Chantel’s call.
“Do you remember anything about the accident?” he asked. Someone would be in to take her report officially, but he had to know. Had to do something.
Work was his panacea. His life. It was all he could do. A life had been lost because of him. He didn’t deserve to go create one of his own when he’d cost another.
She told him about the truck. About trying to find any kind of identifier. About the baseball cap and broad shoulders. All things she’d told the dispatcher on the phone.
“It was no accident,” she finished. “He forced me over that cliff...”
He so easily could have. And she’d have been dead.
“You swerved to the left, Em,” he told her, pushing back against another wave of emotion. “When he started to come over, you gunned it and swerved to the left, in front of him. You plowed into a row of shrubbery.”
And the sunglasses she’d had on top of her head—having put them there when she’d picked them up from the counter when she’d left his house—had slid down just enough that the force of the airbag had rammed them into her head.