Chapter Nineteen
Beck leaned back against the pale gray wall outside the recovery room, his arms loose at his sides. The clock on the wall opposite him read a little after ten in the morning. The long night had bled into morning without pause, and it felt like every nerve in his body was frayed raw.
Beside him, Grace stood with her shoulder just brushing his, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with fatigue. She looked ready to drop, but like him, she had refused to leave until they knew Elena and the nurse were going to pull through.
The EMTs had moved both women here to Crossfire Creek after the chaos at the county hospital.
That place was now cordoned off as one big-assed crime scene, Jonah’s final battlefield.
Elena had just come out of surgery, the doctors saying she’d lost a lot of blood but would live.
Evelyn Hart, the nurse, was still being monitored for the head wound Jonah had given her, but the prognosis looked good.
Added to that, she’d been cleared of any wrongdoing since Jonah had forced her to make the call.
And then there was Tyler, the young man from reception. Jonah had clubbed him, too, and now he was under observation down the hall. Beck figured the kid would be fine, but he’d gotten dragged into something he’d had no part in starting or finishing.
The silence between Beck and Grace wasn’t heavy, just tired, stretched thin after everything that had happened.
Cal came down the corridor, his boots thudding softly against the linoleum, and in each hand he carried a steaming paper cup of coffee. Beck caught the scent when Cal was still a good ten feet away, and the drinks were meant for Grace and him because he handed one to each of them.
“You both look like shit,” Cal said, his mouth quirking despite the shadows under his eyes. “But you’re alive. That counts.”
Beck wrapped his fingers around the cup, letting the heat bleed into his cold hands. Alive. He supposed that was the word for it, though after the last forty-eight hours, it felt like a miracle.
Grace took a sip, her eyes closing briefly. Beck watched the tension in her face ease, just a little.
Cal shifted his weight against the opposite wall, his expression sobering. “Jonah had it all lined up. Since that terminal cancer diagnosis, everything he touched was aimed at setting the rest of you up for slaughter. You, Grace, Elena, Silas, and Denny taking the fall for it.”
Beck nodded, the bitter truth still settling in his gut. Jonah had been their brother once. Now he had tried to bury them all in blood and lies.
“Speaking of Denny,” Cal went on, reaching into his pocket. He held up his phone. “He asked me to pass along a message. Said to tell you both he’s sorry for acting like a dick. And that he’s grateful. You stopped Jonah before he could nail him to the wall for murder.”
Beck exchanged a glance with Grace. Neither of them spoke right away. Too much had happened. Too many lines crossed. But for the first time in days, there was a fragile thread of relief tugging through the exhaustion.
The door to Elena’s recovery room opened, and a doctor in green scrubs stepped out, tugging his mask down. His expression was drawn, but there was no urgency in his movements, which Beck took as a good sign.
“You can go in now,” the doctor said, glancing between them.
“She’s stable, though she’ll be weak for a while.
” He hesitated, then added, “Her tox screen came back with some disturbing results. Elevated levels of benzodiazepines, barbiturates, even traces of ketamine. It looks like she’s been drugged over a period of time, not just in a single dose. ”
Grace frowned, and Beck felt his jaw tighten. “So that explains it,” Beck said quietly. “The mood swings. The paranoia.”
The doctor gave a short nod. “It would have made her more aggressive, less rational. Like gasoline poured on fire.”
His thoughts spun back to the water bottle the sheriff had collected, the one Elena swore she had drunk from. That bottle contained a similar combo of drugs. Something that would keep Elena unstable without knocking her out cold.
Beck silently cursed. Jonah’s handprints were all over this. He could almost see the bastard smiling at the chaos he had sown. Drug Elena enough to make her volatile. Then point her like a weapon at them and sit back while she did his dirty work.
“Jonah wanted her to finish the job for him,” Beck muttered. “Save him the trouble.” The thought settled like ice in his gut.
Beck followed Grace into the recovery room.
The blinds were partly closed, the morning light struggling through the narrow slats, leaving the space in a pale haze.
Machines hummed quietly, a steady rhythm of beeps breaking the silence.
Elena lay in the hospital bed, an IV taped to her arm, her face pale but her eyes sharp and searching.
“The bastard is dead, right?” she asked the second she spotted them. Her voice was raspy but laced with fury. “That wasn’t bullshit from the EMTs just to make me feel better?”
Beck stepped closer to the foot of her bed. “No. Jonah’s dead.”
Her shoulders eased against the pillows as though she had been holding herself rigid. She let out a shaky breath, then muttered, “The son of a bitch drugged me.”
“Yes,” Grace said quietly, moving to the side of the bed. “The doctor told us.”
Elena’s lips curled into a bitter snarl. “I wish Jonah was alive so I could kick him in the balls.”
Beck almost smiled at the bluntness, though there was nothing funny about any of it.
Beck stayed near the foot of the bed while Grace eased closer to Elena’s side. Her face was still pale, but her eyes had that sharp flash of defiance he remembered.
“Why did you leave the EMTs?” Beck asked.
Elena pressed her head back into the pillow, her voice strained. “My head was spinning, and the rage… it was like a storm inside me. I couldn’t sit still.”
“That was the drugs Jonah slipped you,” Grace said gently.
Elena spat out another curse. “Figures. He must have dosed every damn bottle of water in my place. That son of a bitch dropped by a couple of times, played it off like he wanted to check on me. I thought he was just being nosy.”
Beck exchanged a look with Grace before asking, “What about when you got in Silas’s truck? Do you remember that?”
Elena frowned, searching her memory. “Yeah. I remember. Silas said he got a call from Jonah. Claimed Jonah wanted to see us both, so I went along. Guess I was stupid enough to believe him.”
Beck felt his stomach tighten. “And Jonah made sure that call was exactly what it needed to be. A lure.”
Elena’s face tightened as she pulled in a shaky breath.
“When Silas and I got to the bridge, Jonah stepped out from his truck like he was waiting on us. Before I even realized what was happening, he hit me with a stun gun. Dropped me hard. Then he stuck me with something, probably a sedative. Everything went fuzzy after that.”
Her eyes turned glassy, though her voice stayed raw.
“He shot Silas. Right in the head. I saw it before I blacked out. Then Jonah dragged me into his own truck. He was moving fast, like he’d rehearsed it.
I caught a glimpse of him putting something in Silas’s truck before he shoved it off the bridge. ”
Beck’s gut clenched, but he kept his tone even. “That was explosives. Jonah wanted to make sure Silas was gone and take us down in the same breath.”
Elena swallowed hard. “I don’t remember much after that. Just fragments. I lost consciousness, and when I came to, I was in that room at the county hospital, tied up and bleeding.”
Beck studied her face, weighing every word. She looked exhausted, worn down by more than just the surgery. For once, there didn’t seem to be any lies in her eyes, only the bitter edge of betrayal.
Elena winced and shifted against the pillow, her hand moving toward the call button. “I need to get the nurse in here. Time for meds.” Her voice was quieter now, some of the fight drained out of her. She muttered, “I’m sorry for all the shit Jonah caused.”
Beck met her eyes, giving her a small nod. “So are we.” Grace added a soft, “We hope you have a speedy recovery.”
There wasn’t much more to say. They stepped out of the room, leaving Elena to rest.
In the hall, Noah and Isla were waiting. Noah’s expression was steady, though his eyes carried the same exhaustion Beck felt in his own bones. Isla, on the other hand, was bouncing slightly on her toes, a restless energy that hadn’t dimmed even after the long night.
Noah’s gaze went first to Grace, then to Beck. “How’s Elena?”
Grace answered. “She’s weak, but she’s hanging on. She remembers some of it. Enough to confirm what Jonah did to her and Silas.”
Isla gave a low whistle. “Guess we can look forward to things being a whole lot quieter without someone shooting at us every five minutes.” Her mouth curved into a quick grin. “You two ready for boring?”
Beck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah. Quiet sounds real good.”
His eyes flicked to Grace. He was looking forward to spending that time with her, and he hoped like hell that she wanted the same thing. No way did he want her to walk away again.
Noah’s mouth lifted in a faint smile. “Then take some downtime. You’ve earned it.”
“A gallon of agreement.” Isla rocked back on her heels, then said, “Oh, and the cat’s moved. It’s Cal’s turn to babysit Bandages.” Her grin faded as her tone shifted. “We also got the ID back on the body from the truck. It was Silas.”
Beck felt the weight of it settle over him. He sighed. “Elena will be able to fill in more blanks about that. She already told us Jonah killed his brother before sending that truck off the bridge.”
Isla tipped her head toward the doors. “Well, you two should probably get started on that quiet time before the universe changes its mind.”
Grace gave a small smile, and Beck let the joke stand. Noah and Isla moved toward Elena’s room while Grace and Beck made their way out of the recovery wing.
Cold air slapped him in the face the moment they stepped outside, but sunlight cut through the thin layer of clouds.
The sleet had stopped at last, leaving a slick sheen across the walkways and cars.
For the first time in days, the world looked calmer, steadier, as if it too was finally ready for peace.
They climbed into the van. Beck started the engine, the rumble breaking the quiet, and turned the heat all the way up. Warm air began to push through the vents, fogging the windshield. He kept his hand on the gearshift but didn’t move it. Instead, he turned to her.
“I hope you’ll come back to my place,” he said, his voice low and even, though the words carried more weight than he wanted to admit.
Grace smiled, leaned across the console, and kissed him. “Your place, with you, is exactly where I want to be.”
Relief swept through him so strong it nearly stole his breath, and then came the heat of her kiss. It lingered, sweet and sure, and when they finally eased back she spoke before he could find the words.
“I don’t want to be at your place just for the day or just for the quiet time,” she said softly. “I want to be with you. I’m in love with you, Beck.”
The words hit him like sunlight breaking through the storm. His chest tightened, but not with doubt, only with the rush of something he had been holding on to for far too long. He reached for her hand, closing it in his.
“I love you too, Grace,” he said. “I always have. And I’m not letting you walk away again.”
Her eyes shone, the kind of look that told him she meant every word. She leaned in, kissed him once more, and whispered, “Then don’t.”
He reached across the console, lacing his fingers with hers as sunlight spilled through the windshield. Beck smiled, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and thought, Quiet time had never looked so damn good.
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