Chapter Seventeen
Winnie blinked against the too-bright lights and a water-stained tile ceiling overhead. It took a few too many seconds to realize she wasn’t dead. That was concerning but also a relief. Scratchy bedsheets and low voices registered in the minutes she tried to gauge her whereabouts.
Crunching added to the weird-as-hell soundtrack. “It’s creepy that you’re just staring at the ceiling like that.”
Realizing she wouldn’t suddenly go into a coma by taking her eyes off the Pac-Man-shaped brown stain overhead, she let herself take in the man sitting to one side of her bed popping what looked like caramel popcorn every few seconds from a Cracker Jack box.
She knew him from Adrial’s office. Baxter something.
He…worked forensics? Kind of hard to believe the man with tattoos inked up his arms and the grungy motorcycle-gang-member aura had chosen such a hard science, but he somehow managed to pull it off.
“You’re not the person I expected to be sitting at my death bed. ”
“But would you say I’m the handsomest?” Baxter threw another few kernels of the sweet-and-salty combo into his mouth. He tipped the opening of the box toward her. “Popcorn?”
“No. Thank you.” She hadn’t died. The killer hadn’t succeeded in…
whatever she’d set out to do, but there was a big gaping hole in her memory of how she’d gotten here.
Winnie struggled to sit up, sinking deeper into the pillows arranged at her back.
An IV line tugged at the thin skin in the crook of her elbow.
She followed it up to a clear bag dripping fluids—and probably some kind of pain reliever—into the line.
“Where am I? Where is Adrial, and how the hell did I get here?” Shoving herself upright, she sucked in a strained breath.
Baxter was suddenly out of his seat, the box of Cracker Jacks on the floor and his hands on her biceps to steady her. “Take it easy, killer. You’ve been through a lot. I know all that seems important right now, but you’re still recovering from hypothermia and a good hit to the head.”
Is that why she couldn’t seem to see straight?
She didn’t remember that part. There was the lake and the stabbing and the blood and the drowning.
Then…the boathouse. The killer had taken her to the boathouse.
Was going to kill her for… Pain streaked through her head.
Too fast to be a migraine but just as debilitating for those few short heartbeats. “Adrial.”
“He’s getting stitched up. The woman who attacked you got him pretty good.
He’ll recover, but for now, you’re both out of commission.
” Baxter’s hands were warm and callused in much the same way Adrial’s were, but they didn’t feel right on her skin.
He settled her back against the pillows, and the pain trying to shred her brain into a thousand pieces eased.
After taking his seat, he grabbed the box from the floor and tossed the few pieces of popcorn that’d escaped into the trash can positioned beside the bed.
“Until the ER clears him to move around, you’re stuck with me.
Or until he gets tired of being told what to do and barges in here like his stubborn-ass self. My money’s on the latter.”
So was hers. And if Baxter was putting bets on his boss, that meant Adrial was alive.
That he was safe. Relief unlike anything she’d felt before replaced the panic crushing her chest. Tears burned in her eyes as some muted daytime talk show with six female hosts played out on the TV mounted from the ceiling across the room.
She couldn’t read the captions, but Baxter had obviously kept himself busy waiting for her to wake up. “He’s okay?”
Understanding softened the harsh lines around the forensic investigator’s mouth and eyes, and right then she could imagine him as the type that hated to deliver bad news.
Supportive in that unwavering way, the kind of man who wanted to be there for the people he cared about.
People like Adrial and probably the rest of the Cold Hollow Investigations teams. “He’s okay, Winnie.
He managed to get himself stitched up in the field and stop the bleeding before he lost too much.
If he hadn’t, I doubt either of you would be here. ”
Adrial had saved her? How? Why? She’d left him there on the ice to face the killer alone, and he’d come for her. She didn’t know why the idea of him risking his life for her made her so uncomfortable, but rubbing her chest where an ache started didn’t help.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Baxter didn’t even bother looking at her this time, seemingly engrossed in whatever topic the ladies on TV had moved onto in the captions.
She doubted that, but she was willing to use Baxter as a distraction rather than sit in these feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge and get stuck inside her head.
It wasn’t a great place to be right now.
Someone had murdered her dad. And not just that.
The killer had insinuated Arthur Hutton—the chief of police and the greatest detective she knew—had been directly involved in the death of twenty-year-old Lila Mercer.
That her father had compromised key pieces of evidence in the investigation.
No. She didn’t want to think about that.
He was her dad. Not some kind of criminal mastermind.
“That you can’t possibly eat that much popcorn in one sitting and keep your six-pack? ”
Baxter chomped down on another handful of peanuts and caramel. “My eating habits shouldn’t concern you unless you’re interested in going back to my house and getting an up-close-and-personal look at said six-pack, but I’m a fan of staying alive. I don’t cross that line. Ever.”
Understanding steadily sank in as Baxter watched his program, and Winnie’s face heated. He couldn’t mean… No. She shook her head, retriggering the pain at her temples. “Adrial and I aren’t…together.”
She’d come back to Black Hollow to set her father’s affairs in order.
She’d taken on following this investigation to the end to honor his career and had somehow convinced Adrial to come along for the ride.
They were partners. Not a couple. And even if she was ready to start seeing someone so quickly after the divorce—which she wasn’t—the last person she’d turn to was the man who’d broken her heart in the first place. “He still loves his wife.”
And why were they talking about this, anyway?
Adrial hadn’t shown any kind of interest…
Her stomach sucked up higher into her rib cage.
The kiss. Not the performance that’d played out in front of Henry and Darby on Main Street, but the one that’d come after.
When it’d just been the two of them on the edge of Hollow Lake.
He’d…kissed her. Like, really kissed her, and holy hell, she could still feel it down to her toes.
Changed her from the inside out as he’d devoured her.
As though he’d relied on the very air in her lungs to keep living. That hadn’t been a performance.
Baxter’s scoff jerked through his upper body.
“Of course, he still loves her. Katie played a huge role in his life. They built a home together in Chicago, planned to have a family. She’s always going to be part of him and so is what happened to her.
You don’t just pretend those things haven’t made you who you are, but losing someone—especially to violence—doesn’t make it impossible to find peace with someone else. And you… You give him peace.”
She did? Winnie couldn’t imagine what in the world could make Adrial’s best friend think she’d brought a moment’s peace into their lives since coming back to town, but she didn’t have the capacity to ruminate on it right now.
She looked at Baxter, really looked at him, for the first time since she’d woken up.
He was obviously attractive in an I-want-to-piss-off-my-parents kind of way with that bad-boy smirk and the mystery in his eyes.
But there was also a heaviness to the set of his shoulders.
Like he hadn’t slept well in years. “You make it sound as though you have experience with that.”
Intense blue eyes slid to her as Baxter settled deeper into the uncomfortable-looking pleather chair.
“What I was saying before you so rudely commented on my cheat day snack was that I know you’re feeling guilty about what happened.
You shouldn’t. Whoever stabbed Adrial and tried to kill you, it’s on them.
There wasn’t anything you could’ve done to prevent what happened.
You followed the evidence. You found a new lead for the first time in twenty years.
Not bad for a hard day’s work in my book. ”
Forensic investigator and mind reader. Winnie chose to ignore the insinuation that Adrial felt more for her than annoyance and obligation and potentially a bit of guilt for how they’d left things ten years ago.
But the door to her hospital room opened, and there he was.
Bruised, battered and a little unsteady on his own two feet, Adrial locked burning attention on her. Something released inside her chest.
A nurse tried to angle around Adrial’s position in the doorway. “Sir, you shouldn’t be up and moving yet. Your stitches are fresh—”
“I’m fine.” Two words had never sounded so world-bending in her life.
The entire room seem to shift around him instead of Adrial moving through the room.
The added limp was noticeable, but he had enough strength not to need crutches.
That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Muscles rippled in his free forearm as he approached the bed.
The other arm was secured in a sling, and every cell in her body honed on his approach.
Her exhale shuddered up her throat, her insides coiled so tightly she feared she might burst into a thousand butterflies if she wasn’t careful.
“What’d I tell you? Stubborn-ass.” Baxter sucked on the straw of a gas station soda cup she hadn’t noticed until right then, his attention still fully engaged with the women of the talk show.
He hit a button the remote and hauled his muscular form out of the chair, taking his popcorn and soda with him.
“That’s my cue. Good luck, Winnie. I hope you don’t die. Really.”
That pulled her attention off Adrial. “O-kay. Thanks for sitting with me.” She meant it.
Her insurance and emergency contact information was still tied to Dan.
The hospital would’ve let him know she’d been admitted in the name of financial responsibility, but no one had come.
Baxter had. Maybe as a favor to the man who looked as though he hadn’t taken a breath in the past minute, but she appreciated the gesture, anyway.
The kindness. Besides, did she really want the people from her old life here, her ex included?
They’d shown her exactly how important she was to them during the divorce, and yet she still seemed to expect them to choose her? To be here for her?
“Anytime, killer.” The forensic investigator nodded at Adrial, pausing for a split second. An entire nonverbal conversation seemed to pass between them before Adrial returned the nod, and Baxter took his leave.
“How are you feeling?” Adrial’s voice sounded as though it’d been dragged over gravel. Too rough and sharp, but the perfect combination to get through the emotions taking up too much space in her chest.
Winnie blinked, at a loss. “You’re asking about me?”
“You’re the one in the hospital bed.” Her partner maneuvered around the bed. The trip would’ve been made so much easier with at least one crutch, but the man made being stabbed look like an inconvenience with the way he held himself.
He wasn’t serious, right? She watched as he took his seat, lowering himself down with far more grace than she’d ever owned in her life. “You’re the one who was nearly gutted like a farm animal.”
“Touché.” His laugh slipped between all those sharp internal pieces of glass she wanted to avoid looking too closely at, rounding the edges off, making them easier to take up space.
But the smile that’d come with it drained from his face.
“Winnie, there’s something I need to tell you.
About what happened. The killer… I saw her face. She looks just like you.”