38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter thirty-eight
Carter
I wake up in a dark room, not sure what woke me, but something did.
My eyes fly open. The apartment is quiet.
Still. It’s late, but I can’t tell how late, so I grab my phone.
It’s almost eleven p.m.. I should go back to sleep.
The second I think it is when I realize Nash didn’t call.
He was supposed to call. I sit up, wondering why he didn’t.
Could he still be working? He said it would be late.
This is late. But there is still a lot of time that’s considered to be late.
I don’t know how long these things take, so I shouldn’t worry. I should at least check on him though.
I send a text and wait a minute or two but don’t get a response, so I call. It goes right to voicemail.
Maybe it’s normal to shut your phone off when you’re dealing with this stuff? I don’t know. I don’t really know anything about it.
I put my phone down and get comfortable in bed again. He’s working. I can’t be needy when it comes to his job. I just miss him. I know he’d understand that and he wouldn’t get mad, but I don’t want to be a distraction for him either. Not ever, but especially not now, when it comes to this case.
There’s just an unsettling feeling in my chest that I can’t get rid of.
I toss and turn but I can’t fall asleep.
I grab my phone again, open the text, and just stare at it.
It’s unread, but if his phone is off, he wouldn’t read it, would he?
I send another, just so he has something to see when he turns it on.
Me: I miss you. Hope everything is okay.
I set the phone down, put the TV on for background noise, but make sure it’s quiet. Maybe his phone died and he’ll knock when he gets here. I want to make sure I can hear the door. Hopefully he didn’t try that already and I slept through it.
I shake the thoughts away, close my eyes, and try to go back to sleep. If I’m sleeping, I can’t wonder where he is, and when I wake up, I’ll see him. That’s what I tell myself and how I end up falling back to sleep.
Almost.
Sirens wail in the distance, which is nothing new in the city. But they get louder. Not in the sense that they’re right out my door, but in the way that there are a lot of them.
Firetruck horns, ambulance sirens, cop sirens, all of it.
Fucking New York City.
But then I hear the helicopter. Maybe two. And my heart starts pounding right out of my chest. So hard it hurts.
What if something went wrong…
I throw the blankets off me and get out of bed to go to the window.
I see nothing from here, but I hear it. Not too far.
Far enough, but close enough too. A few blocks, maybe.
This isn’t the best neighborhood, and the further west you go, the worse it gets.
That’s where it’s all coming from. It’s normal.
It’s just the city. Nothing to freak out about. That’s what I keep telling myself.
But I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach like something is wrong.
All of this mixed with Nash not answering is terrifying.
I ignore it though. I have to. I can’t worry every time I hear something like this.
I’ll drive myself crazy, and go right back to the hermit I was when Ryan first died.
I don’t want to be like that; I don’t want to be afraid of everything all the time.
So I go back to bed.
But still I can’t sleep. It feels like bugs are crawling all over me and I think I’m going to be sick. I get up to use the bathroom, splash water on my face, and get a bottle of water. It’s been nearly forty-five minutes since I first woke up. I have work tomorrow. I really need to sleep.
But where is Nash?
I try his cell again. Straight to voicemail.
Maybe his phone died, and he went home to sleep.
I’m sure he’s exhausted. Why would he come here to see if I’d answer the door?
It doesn’t make sense. He’s definitely home sleeping—which is what I need to do.
So once again, I crawl into bed, get under the blankets, and put the volume louder on the TV to drown out the sounds of the city.
I’m just about there, just about asleep, when this wave of dread falls over me. I grab my phone, and do a search for a local news app. Of course they’ll be covering what’s going on. I can see that it’s some random person and I can go back to sleep.
Common sense, Carter. You should’ve done that before.
I click on the link that comes up with a live video of what looks like someone covering what’s going on.
I read the title and almost throw up.
brEAKING: NYPD Detective and Civilian Shot During Search Warrant
I look up at the window, at where all the noise is coming from. It can’t be. It just can’t…
I quickly scan the article before I throw up. There’s barely any information here at all. I was hoping for names, more info, something to make me feel better.
Both victims were airlifted to Bellevue Hospital. Officers say the suspect is in custody. More information to come.
“That’s it?” I mutter to myself. “That’s fucking it?” I cry out. There has to be more. Why isn’t there a name?
With shaking fingers, I close out of it and go to another site. Same info. Nothing more, nothing less.
“What the fuck,” I growl as my head starts to spin. I check another site. And another and another. It’s all the same. I check the news and they aren’t even talking about it!
I call Nash again. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six. Seven. I lose track. I’m fucking losing my mind. I get up, trying to keep my balance as I throw on clothes and shoes. I open the Uber app and choose the one that’ll be here immediately, even though it’s twice the cost.
I hurry downstairs and out to the street to wait for it to show. I’m running for the car before it even stops in front of my house.
“Please, hurry.”
The man gives me a concerned look, double checks where I’m going, and when he notices it’s the hospital, he speeds off. Though, it’s not fast enough.
I’m out of the car before it stops moving, rushing through the front doors and going right to reception. From the corner of my eye, I see cops and detectives all over. But not Nash. He’s not here. He’s not standing around with all the others.
“H-hi, I need you to tell me if there is a Nash Bennett here.”
“Are you family?” the receptionist asks.
“No, I—” I run my trembling hand through my hair. “I just need you to tell me if he’s okay.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but if you’re not family, I can’t give you any information.”
“Please,” I say. “Please, I just need to know if it was him.”
“I’m sorry, sir. Really. There’s nothing I can do.”
Panic overwhelms me. I can hardly see straight. There are seats off to the side, so I try to make my way there. And as I do, I overhear a couple of cops talking. I listen, wanting to know what’s going on because I need to know.
“They said he’s going to be okay.”
“Who?”
“The civilian.”
“What about Bennett—”
I don’t hear the rest of what’s said. I blink and I’m on the floor.
My hands and face are numb. My body is vibrating.
Everything is foggy, but there are hands on me, helping me to sit on something cold.
Voices sound like they’re underwater. Then I’m moving.
Helped onto a bed. The lights are bright.
There are people around me, touching me, talking to me.
All I want to do is cry, but I don’t feel anything. It’s all numb. I’m completely numb.
Until finally, through all the fog and the water, I hear, “Sir, I think you’re having a panic attack. I need you to breathe.”
Something about that helps me back… not fully, but enough that I can look around and see. I’m in a small room with a doctor and three nurses.
“I... what?”
“A panic attack. Have you had them before?”
“Yeah…” I say, my body still vibrating.
“I’m going to give you something to help calm you down. Do you have any allergies?”
I focus on breathing and shake my head. I’ve never had to take medication for panic attacks before, but this is bad. It’s so bad. I… think I almost passed out.
This is fucking terrible.