18. Dahlia
Chapter eighteen
Dahlia
I watched helplessly as the EMT caught Asher mid-fall, lifting him up enough to slide him onto the gurney in the middle of the ambulance.
“I need your hands!” he shouted at me, and my limbs reacted all at once, lurching me forward until I smacked into the gurney with my hips.
He ignored my near fall, ripping the vest off of Asher’s chest, exposing the motley of bruises covering his torso.
“Did he get shot?” he demanded, jerking wires out of a nearby machine and attaching them to different parts of his body.
“Um, yes. He was wearing the vest, but it was right there.” I pointed at the horrible-looking bruise at the center of his chest. “I think he was hit by a car, too. And um, he got beat up pretty badly.” My voice was already raspy thanks to the collar, but now I was fighting through a lump forming as we took stock of his injuries.
The EMT grimaced and turned on the machine beside us, the sound of Asher’s weak heartbeat filling the space around us.
He started pulling out some more equipment, slamming the wall with his hand twice.
“Gage, double time!” he shouted, and I heard the sirens turn on above us, the ambulance jostling as we picked up speed.
He held out a wand-looking thing to me, pouring gel on Asher’s chest. “Hold this, press it down here, and move it when I tell you,” he instructed.
I took the wand gingerly, and put it down where he said to.
He turned on a second monitor, and a grainy video appeared on it.
He held Asher’s shoulder down, studying the screen.
“Left a bit, now up, up a little more, wait… okay, hold it right there, do not move it,” he ordered, and I used my other hand to grip the side of the gurney to keep myself steady.
I felt the blood drain from my face as he pulled a large syringe out of one of the drawers, tearing open the packaging and tossing it aside.
“Alright, take a deep breath, hold the wand steady, and whatever you do, do not faint until after I’m finished with this,” he instructed, and before I could ask what this was exactly, he jabbed the needle into Asher’s chest, just below the wand.
I tried not to look as he pulled up the plunger, drawing a syringe-full of dark red blood out.
When it was full, he set it down on the nearby tray and grabbed another syringe, watching the screen as he did it again.
He pulled two more syringes full of blood out of Asher’s chest before the machine monitoring his heart picked up speed again, sounding closer to a normal heartbeat.
“Okay, I’ll take that back now, thanks.” He smiled, holding out his hand.
I passed him the wand and sank to the floor, still gripping the side of the gurney.
“Hey, it’s okay, you did great,” he told me gently, coming around to help me back over to the bench.
“He had blood filling the sack around his heart, and that was making it hard for it to pump properly,” he explained.
“Thank you.” I whispered, my hands shaking—from fear or exhaustion, I wasn’t sure. I watched him set about strapping Asher onto the gurney properly, so when we pulled up to the ER entrance they were able to easily wheel him out and into the hospital.
I tried to follow, but a nurse stopped me, forcing me gently into a wheelchair.
She wheeled me to a private room where a female police officer was waiting with another tech.
They removed the ugly blouse Irene had given me to wear and took pictures of the wounds on my neck and torso.
I wasn’t sure why they needed to, since Curing was dead anyway, but I guessed it all needed to be documented just in case.
It took a while for them to finish cleaning and bandaging the cuts, and then another doctor came in to examine the burns on my neck.
The nurse provided me with a set of scrubs since my injuries weren’t actually bad enough to warrant an overnight stay, apparently. But I didn’t want to leave.
“Can you take me to his room, please?” I rasped, and the nurse hesitated for a moment, looking conflicted.
“Please, I’m not supposed to leave his side, he’ll freak out if he wakes up and I’m not there.
” Only half of that statement was true since, technically, the case was done now that Curing was dead.
I could just go… home? But I didn’t have a home.
I guessed I could call Amanda… but I didn’t have a phone.
Tears pricked my eyes, and that seemed to sway her.
“Alright, fine. This way.” She waved, and I followed after her as she led me upstairs, back to the ICU.
She brought me to the same room Hunter was in, and officers were still posted in front of the door.
They nodded and let me through, recognizing me from before, or maybe from TV, who knew at this point.
I spotted Hunter right away, but the bed next to him was empty, and I frowned, thinking the nurse had made a mistake.
“He’s still down in surgery, they’ll bring him up in a little while,” Hunter called out, and my shoulders sagged in relief.
I walked over tentatively and sat in the chair beside his bed, feeling awfully out of place without Asher nearby.
Hunter still looked gruesome, but he seemed to be a bit more lucid today.
His good eye was half open now, the swelling having started to go down at least. “Did they clear you?” he asked, looking me over carefully.
“Yeah, I’m okay, just the burns this time, really.
No stitches,” I replied, my voice still pretty rough.
Guilt welled up in my chest as I looked over his ruined face.
How was I free to go home, while these two men were barely clinging on to life?
That didn’t seem fair at all. I thought about Asher collapsing in the ambulance, like all of life had just drained out of him all at once, and I realized my face was damp, tears spilling down my cheeks.
“Hey now, that’s a good thing, remember?” He smiled, and I wiped my cheeks roughly with my palms, feeling like a true idiot. “You should go home, get some rest, you’ve earned it.”
I laughed bitterly, rubbing my hands on the scrubs I was wearing.
“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I replied softly.
He grunted, and I saw him reaching out to grab his phone off the table.
It was awkward since he only had one un-splinted finger on his good hand to type, but he seemed to manage it okay.
“I’m sorry, I never managed to get you that phone I promised.
” He grimaced. “But I’ll let Amanda know you’re here.
” I smiled gratefully, twisting the loose fabric in my hands nervously.
The silence in the room stretched out, and Hunter set his phone back down, groaning softly as he relaxed back into the pillows on his bed.
The quiet weighed on my soul, and I finally couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out, louder than I intended. He looked at me in surprise, his undamaged eyebrow raising.
“What could you have to be sorry for?” he asked incredulously. I looked around us as if it should’ve been obvious.
“Everything,” I replied weakly, more tears threatening to spill out. “I’m sorry that you got hurt, that Asher nearly died.” I inhaled a shaky breath, trying not to completely unravel right here.
“Are you confessing right now?” Hunter asked, and I frowned at him, confused.
“What?”
“Are you confessing to me that you committed all the crimes we’re investigating? That you framed Curing and it was really you the whole time?” he pressed, and I realized he was teasing me. I bristled, my eyes narrowing.
“No, of course not. But-” I started, but he cut me off with a wave.
“Curing did this, do you understand? He killed all those women. He was going to kill you, and then he would’ve kept on killing.
He was holding the knife that did this.” He gestured to his face.
“He beat the holy hell out of Asher. So please, don’t apologize.
You are a victim of Curing and, just because you lived, doesn’t shoulder you with the burden of guilt over his actions.
” The lump in my throat was back, and I swallowed thickly, my gaze dropping to my lap.
“This is our job, Dahlia,” Hunter continued, but softer now, his tone no longer admonishing.
“We knew the risks when we got into this. Believe it or not, you are a rare success. Most of the time, we don’t get a living victim.
” He sighed. I let that knowledge settle over me like a chill in my bones.
I was so tired, I just wanted to curl up in a ball and cry somewhere until the tears were spent.
We settled back into silence, but this time it wasn’t weighed down with my guilt.
My eyes drifted closed at some point, and I fell into a light doze, tucked awkwardly into the small hospital chair.
Voices woke me a while later, and I sat up, seeing a few nurses around the empty bed, which was no longer empty.
I waited until they cleared out, then hurried over to see Asher.
He had some color back in his face, but he still looked rough.
His arm was patched up, thick bandages encircling his wrist and covering his hand, his thumb splinted.
He had more bandages covering his chest and his face where he’d gotten stitches.
Someone had done a half-assed job of wiping the blood off his face, and it added a macabre look to the bruises that were starting to form.
“Of course he tried to one-up me,” Hunter mused, but his voice was tight.
I sat down beside Asher’s bed, reaching out to rest my hand over his.