CHAPTER 95 Maine
Maine
GINA MAINE PUTS HER last dirty plate in the dishwasher and starts it.
She wipes her hands on a towel, then bends over the sink and splashes some water on her face.
She’s so exhausted from her shift at the VA hospital that she hasn’t even bothered to change out of her scrubs yet.
But now it’s time for bed, and she really needs a shower.
She’s halfway down the hall when she hears banging on her front door, followed by a quick series of dings on her doorbell. Gina’s heart pounds as she heads through her living room. She keeps the chain lock fastened when she opens the door a crack to look out.
“Yes? Can I—” She stops.
On her porch, a huge man is supporting the weight of a smaller man, hanging limp at his side. In a split second, Gina recognizes them both. It’s that detective who questioned her at the hospital. John Sampson.
The man he’s holding is Aiden Phillips.
“Open the door, Gina,” says Sampson. “He needs help.”
She closes the door just enough to unclasp the chain. When she opens the door wide, she can see dark spots speckling her front step.
Blood.