Henodded solemnly, then threw his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stompedon it.
“Yesaid shedoesnaehave any family left?”
“No,”he said. “Their brother William killed himself some time ago, afterconfessin' to Stirling that he had, ah … urges to dohorrible things to women. Apparently, hecouldnaestandlivin' with the demons inside his own head, andinstead ofgettin' himself to a doctor, he decided torid the world of his existence instead.”
Then,he reached out to nudge my elbow with his knuckles and said, “I guess that'ssomekindatwisted consolation prize, though, isn’tit?”
Iconsidered it, as I recalled thosehoursI’d spenttied to a tree in the middle ofCoilleFeannagand the years of nightmares and chilling memoriesthat had followed. My peers had tortured me for something I had no controlover, and even though I couldn't remember their faces or names, I’d spentall ofthis time hating every single one of them since. Buthad I ever wished death upon any of them? Had I ever hoped they'd suffer or dothemselves harm?
“No,”I grumbled, turning to look once again at the sad little house and itsdisheveled state. “Nobody deserves that.”
Then,as I started to limp around the car to get in, my mobile began to ring.
CHAPTER FORTY
ALEC
“RosieAllan.”
Iallowed her name to roll over my tongue, enjoying it like a rich, smoothwhisky, as I entered her room with a less than grand entrance. She turned to mewith her mouth open from being in mid-conversation with the man at her side.Her smile was slow to form, but then, there it was, and I could describe itonly as relief personified.
“Alec.”
Withoutfurther invitation, I hobbled into the room, before regarding the tall man wholooked to be the older clone of her son, TJ. I knew her ex-husband had come tobe with her, and I knew this had to be him.
Extendinga hand toward him, I said, “Inspector Alec Brodie.”
Ashe stood, he grasped my palm between both of his. “Tom Dawson, Rosie'sex-husband.”
“Aye,”I said, nodding. “I ken who ye are. It's a pleasure. Rosie speaks verra highlyof ye.”
“Icould say the same of you,” he replied,smilingandreleasing my hand. Then, with his eyes glistening, he held my gaze with a firmstare and said, “You have no idea how grateful we are to you, for saving herlife.”
Iwas never one to take a compliment well, so I shrugged.
“It'smy job.”
“No,”he replied. “It was more than that for you, and I know it. I just want to thankyou for caring that much about her. Our son, her parents, and I are all foreverin your debt.”
Ichuckled uncomfortably, as my eyes drifted to Rosie's, happy to find themlooking back at me. “Well, I promised to get the bad guy or dietryin', did I not?”
Sheswallowed as her eyes glazed over with a sheen of tears. “You weren't supposedtoactuallydie, though. Nobody was.”
InspectorBrian Finley came to mind, and I bowed my head in memory of my friend.
Tomcleared his throat and I looked to him, as he headed toward the door. “I'llgive you guys some space,” he said, before leaving and shutting the door behindhim.
Now,we were alone. I had rehearsed this moment the whole car ride here, certain Iknew exactly what I wanted to say. But facing her now, knowing that beneath herhospital gown werea number ofbandages and scars,every word I had wanted to say felt insignificant. She deserved more than whatI had to say, and so much more than anything Iwas capable ofdoing.
“Sit,”she ordered, and I did without protest. Then, she asked, “How badly were youhurt?”
Ileaned the crutch against the wall and settled into the chair, as I said, “Somebumps and bruises.Nothin’ Icannaehandle.”
Itried to downplay my injuries, not wanting to point out the fact that she hadbeen shot and I hadn’t. But Rosie saw through the lie, and said, “I watched youget hit in the head with a tree branch. You can’t tell me you’re fine.”
“Inever said I wasfine,” I pointed out. “Only that I can handle it.”
“Tellme what happened to you. Please.”
