Page 99 of Asher's Assignment
“Chevy.”
“Okay. We’ll do what we can. Asher, you keep me updated on my sister.”
“I will, Edie.”
The line clicked as she hung up without saying goodbye.
He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself. Talking to Edie, putting into words what Esther had done, had shattered the door on his feelings. One more swift kick and everything would be free.
He couldn’t lose it, though. There was too much on the line.
So, he shored up the door and focused on Esther. The towels he’d pressed against her abdomen were soaked. Leah had brought extras, so he added more to the stack and continued to press down.
Turning his head to ask Connie to look for a first aid kit, he caught sight of Leah and the words stuck in his throat. The girl stood next to her mother, arm wrapped around her shoulders, while Connie clutched the girl to her side. Leah’s gaze was fixed on the blood seeping through the towels and coating his hands. Her lower lip trembled and silent tears tracked down her face.
Asher glanced away, his jaw working as he struggled to hold on to the precarious grip he had on his emotions.
Don’t lose it, man. Esther needs you, and Leah doesn’t need to see you fall apart.
He bit his tongue, using the pain to maintain his composure. Once he was sure he wouldn’t crack if he talked, he looked at Connie. “Can you see if there’s a first aid kit anywhere?” Maybe they’d get lucky and there would be one with some QuikClot in it.
Connie got up.
“If nothing else, bring back more towels.” The ones he’d added to the stack were turning red.
She nodded and ushered Leah out of the kitchen.
Asher glanced down. Blood smeared his hands and stained the knees of his pants. God, there was so much blood. He said a quick prayer she’d last until they could get her to a hospital. He didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t make it.
Forty-One
Asher stared at his hands, the scene from the farmhouse running on a loop through his mind. Dried blood occupied the creases of his nails and under the short tips. A streak he’d missed when washing them decorated the side of his right index finger. He rubbed at the spot, causing some of it to flake away. He should probably make another visit to the men’s room and wash it off, but he didn’t want to leave the waiting room. It had been several hours since the trauma team at the hospital here in Eugene had taken Esther back for surgery. Any moment now, those doors could part and someone in green scrubs would walk through, asking for Essy’s family. He wanted to be available when that happened, so he didn’t have to wait for them to come back.
Even though they couldn’t really tell him much because he wasn’t related. The details would have to wait for Edie to return from chasing down Bradley, but he’d at least know if Esther was alive.
He glanced at the clock, willing someone to come out and tell him that. There was no certainty they would. The sickly gray pallor she’d had to her skin wouldn’t leave his head. When the paramedics arrived, the most senior member of the team had taken one look at her injury and radioed for a helicopter. The thought was the bullet had hit her liver.
Asher hoped that was all it hit.
Commotion near the door drew his attention. He looked up to see a man walk in, flashing a badge at the volunteer at the desk. The elderly woman gestured in Asher’s direction. The cop turned, and Asher sat up straighter.
“Asher Horn?”
As the man approached, Asher stood. “Yes. You are?”
“Detective J.D. Stroud. I’ve been working your kidnapping case, and now Miss Campbell’s shooting. How is she?”
“I don’t know. She’s still in surgery.”
The detective’s head bobbed a couple of times. “Okay. Can we chat while we wait?”
“Of course.”
“Good, good. Let’s use one of their consultation rooms.” Stroud gestured to the bank of doors lining one wall.
“Sure. Just let me tell the receptionist where I’ll be.”
“She knows. I already asked if we could use a room.”
