Page 152 of Captivated
“We’ll keep you in the loop. Once we’ve got statements, we’ll push for charges. Assault, conspiracy, possibly attempted murder. And once Mr. Merrow and Mr. Nolan are able to talk to us, we’ll take statements from them too.”
“We’re not letting this slide, Mr. Thorston,” Officer Brenner assured him.
Robert tightened his jaw. “Better not.”
Silence fell, heavy and awkward. In the distance, a nurse’s voice echoed over the intercom.
“You need anything from us?” Teague asked.
“If you remember anyone who had issues with Toby or Zeeb—recent arguments, threats—call us.” Officer Dunn’s face was equally grave. “It doesn’t matter how small.”
Robert frowned. “Far as I know, nobody had a bad word to say about either of them, but I’ll think on it. In the meantime…” He fixed them with a hard stare. “You do your job. And make sure these men don’t just disappear into the system.”
Officer Brenner stood. “We will.”
“I hope Mr. Merrow and Mr. Nolan make a speedy recovery,” Officer Dunn added. Both officers gave a nod, then headed for the door.
“I don’t think a speedy recovery is likely, do you?” Robert leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Sol placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder.
“Toby’s tough, Robert. So is Zeeb. They’re not done yet.”
Robert didn’t look up.
“Neither am I.”
Chapter Forty-One
August 13, 2024
Pain came first.
Not sharp, not even localized, just a dull, thick presence that lived in his bones and bloomed with every breath. Zeeb blinked against the harsh hospital ceiling lights, his throat dry, his thoughts swimming slow and disoriented like minnows in murky water. His body felt as if it had been dropped off a cliff.
Scratch that. Beaten with a rock andthendropped off a cliff.
He winced, and the slight movement was enough to send fire lancing through his shoulder, settling deep into his chest. His right side felt locked in a vise. The room tilted, then steadied.
The memory came next. Flashes. Shouts. Fists. Toby hitting the floor hard. The metallic taste of blood. Then the ceiling spinning above him.
I must’ve blacked out.
He’d had the weirdest dream. Nate had been there.
He turned his head an inch, enough to feel the searing complaint of his collarbone.
Enough to see the figure slumped in the chair beside his bed.
What the fuck?
Zeeb wanted to rub his eyes, as if that would confirm or deny the sight of Nate asleep, his head lolling to one side, his arms folded, his breathing steady.
It wasn’t a dream.
Zeeb froze.
He was in Boise. Wasn’t he?
He blinked a few times. Nate was there.Reallythere.
