The Obsession(150)

“Simmer down.” Xander pressed a hand on her shoulder, kept her in place. “Anson Chaffins.”

“Yes. Yes, I remember. I remember all of it. He got in the house.”

“Bedroom. You let the dog out, he waited, came in that way, caught you in the kitchen. Mason said you went to school with him.”

“Yes. He was a year ahead of me. I only got to know him for a few months—yearbook committee, school newspaper. But he was with me when I found my mother. He said—he told me—it was his revelation. He said it was wiring, he and my father, both born to be what they are. And seeing my mother’s body opened things up for him. Excited him. All this time . . .”

“Don’t worry about it now.”

“How bad am I hurt? Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Well, baby, they did the best they could.” And laughed when her mouth fell open. “That ought to cure some of that pessimism. You’re fine. As fine as anybody who’s been shot. Hit your left side, just above the waist, pinched right through, and straight into the dog’s right hindquarters. He’s fine, too. I’m saying right now, no Cone of Shame, not for him.”

“No Cone of Shame.” She reached out, stroked the dog. “Not ever. He can have the Pants of Heroism.”

“You jumped in front of the dog, didn’t you? He was going to shoot the dog, and you jumped in front of him.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?”

“Yeah.” Shakier than he wanted to be, Xander blew out a breath. “Yeah, probably. Idiots.”

“How did you get hurt? Your head. You were covered with blood.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot.”

“He was the call—that’s it. The breakdown. It was him. He could’ve killed you.”

“He didn’t.”

“He could have—”

“He didn’t. Get used to it.” He pulled her hand to his lips, held it there, rocked for a moment. “I’ve still got to get used to him nearly killing you—but not. We’re both right here. Jesus, Naomi. Jesus, I didn’t know I could be that scared and live through it. I didn’t know how bad it was. I couldn’t tell, just you lying there, and the blood.”

“Did you save me?”

He pressed his lips to her hand again. “You’d have done the same for me.”

“Yeah. Probably. We’re both right here.” She smiled as Tag nosed under her other hand. “We’re all three right here. And Chaffins?”

“In custody. I don’t know where they’re taking him, probably later today. News is all over. I spent some time reading on my phone last night. It’s all over the news. They broke your connection to Bowes. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. I should never have let it matter so much. How long do I have to stay in here? I want to go home.”

“They’ll want to look you over, but they said you could probably go home today.”

“I need to go home, Xander, but I need to see him first. I need to see Chaffins. I never saw or spoke to my father, but I’m going to see and speak to Chaffins.”

“Okay. Let’s see about getting you out of here, and see what Mason can do.”

It took two hours, a lot of paperwork, a lot of warnings, and she had to leave in a wheelchair, use a side entrance where Mason had a car waiting.

He helped her stand, then just held her. “You’ve looked better.”

“I’ve felt better.”

With his help she eased into the car while Xander and Tag took the backseat.

“The press are all over town. If you do this, you can’t avoid them completely.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“He had a press pass,” Mason said as he drove. “He came to briefings, booked a motel room—though he stayed in the camper, too. Even when he wasn’t using it for other reasons.”

Just a smart, nerdy kid who’d gone to a school dance with her, who’d put a couple clumsy moves on her, easily brushed off.

And a monster, all along.

“He held his victims there—like Bowes and the cellar.”

“Yeah. Different campgrounds, different names. He’s collected several IDs over the last several years. He’s got skills, computer skills.”

“He always did.”

“He kept a log of his victims—names, locations, dates. He has photos of them. We’ve got enough evidence to put him away for a dozen lifetimes. You’ll never have to worry about him again.”

“I’m not. I won’t. You’ve told the uncles I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I talked to them. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want them to. I’ll call them as soon as I get home.”

“Then you’re taking one of those pills,” Xander said, “and zoning out.”

“I probably won’t argue about that one. Are you still going to see Bowes?”

“I will.” Mason nodded. “But it can wait.”

He drove into town, pulled into the slot closest to the station house they’d cleared for him. The minute Xander helped Naomi out of the car, reporters rushed toward them, shouting.

“Tag, too. He should see the dog, too.”