Glow (Glimmer and Glow #2)(101)

“It’s okay. I’m fine. But Thad,” she whispered hoarsely. Dylan’s expression stiffened.

“What about Thad?”

“He fought with Kehoe down by the bluff. Maybe he’s still down there . . . hurt,” she managed to get out. The effort of speaking exhausted her. A tear leaked down her cheek. God, what if it was worse. What if Kehoe had killed Thad? She shouldn’t have left him. He’d saved her, and she’d abandoned him.

“Shhh, baby, it’s going to be okay,” she heard Dylan say, but his voice was very muffled. He said something to Jim in a clipped tone, and Jim replied, but she could no longer decode their words.

She went into the darkness without a struggle. It was an escape, she knew, an avoidance of all the ugliness. But this time, she didn’t fear succumbing.

Dylan was there, and it was safe.





TWENTY-ONE


The first thing Alice saw when she awoke in the hospital was Dylan. He was staring directly at her, as if he’d known she was rising into consciousness . . . as if he’d been waiting for the event. Her whole body ached with a dull throb, but it hardly mattered. All of her focus was on him. For a moment, neither of them spoke as they looked at one another. For Alice, it was like she was drinking him in. She vaguely recalled, like she might a hazy dream, that he had been wearing the exact white shirt, dress pants, and tie last night . . .

. . . in the pantry.

She winced when the graphic, terrifying memory rushed her consciousness. Desperately, she tried to focus on the moment. On Dylan.

There were smears of blood on the front of his shirt. The bright crimson seemed to blaze against the snowy white background. She realized the stains must have come from her. She couldn’t recall the ambulance or getting to the hospital, but at some point, he’d leaned over her and gotten some of her blood on him.

He stood slowly, his dark eyes gleaming as he looked down at her. She lifted her hand to touch him and realized it was bandaged and she had a tube inserted into her arm. She frowned. He caught her forearm and gently placed her hand back on the bed. He kept his hand there. The warm pressure of his touch comforted her.

“You’re going to be fine.” He sounded distant. Muffled. She shifted her head. He must have read the question in her eyes. “They have an IV in to keep you hydrated, since you were unconscious for quite a while and couldn’t take in any liquids. Your head took it the worst. You’ve got plenty of scrapes and bruises, but nothing that time won’t heal just fine. Their biggest concern is the head injury.”

“You’re . . .” She swallowed. Her throat was very dry. Dylan noticed her difficulty and reached for a pitcher on her side table. He poured her some water. He raised her head off the pillows and held up the cup to her lips. Alice swallowed, the cool liquid feeling like nirvana to her parched throat.

“You’re okay?” she finished asking a moment later when he’d laid her back on the pillows and set aside the cup.

He gave her a small smile. Her heart gave a little spasm at the sight. She’d missed him. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left town on Tuesday, but it was more than that. It was as if that ordeal on the bluff and in the pantry had taken up a year of time in her brain.

Last night had aged her.

“I’m completely fine,” he said, placing his hand on her forearm again. “A good deal better now that you’ve woken up,” he added.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered feelingly.

His hand curled around her forearm, and then he immediately loosened it, as if he thought he’d break her. She could tell by his expression he’d understood she was thanking him for saving her life, not for coming to the hospital room.

“I’m just sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”

She glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings. “Do you remember everything that happened, Alice?” he asked cautiously. “The doctor is worried there might be some memory loss.”

She nodded. “I think I remember everything. I still don’t really understand it all, though.”

“We’ve been trying to figure out the chain of events. I know from Dave Epstein that Kehoe had sent that message to you through the kitchens, saying it was from me.” He grimaced, as if a pain had gone through him. “Alice, I think I was there in the house, when he first attacked you. Upstairs. I left for our meeting, but that must have been in some quiet interim before Kehoe took you to the bluff and Schaefer set off the alarm.”

“When he first hit me, I blacked out. I’m not sure for how long,” she admitted. “When I came to, he was dragging me through the yard, and it was dark. If he heard you coming, he might have waited in the house until you left.”

She regretted saying it when she saw the angry tilt of his mouth. The vision of him disabling Kehoe so utterly flew into her mind’s eye. A shadow crossed his bold features, and she wondered if he’d just recalled the same thing.

“Kehoe?” she rasped.

“He’ll live,” he replied, his expression conveying he wasn’t exactly pleased about that news. “He’s in stable condition.”

“Is he . . . is Kehoe here? In this hospital?” she wondered uneasily.

“No. The ambulance took him over to County General. That’s where the county jail inmates get medical care. They’re more used to police guards than Morgantown Memorial.”