Whispers of You (Lost & Found #1)(41)

“Sure. I need to get back.”

A little of the smile slipped from Holt’s face. “Of course. Just text me when you have a budget.”

I still had Holt’s number in my phone. I’d never managed to work up the courage to delete it as if some part of me were still holding onto hope that it would flash on my phone someday.

I forced the memories from my mind and nodded, slipping around him and out the door. I maneuvered through a scattering of desks until I got to the dispatch corner. Abel’s gaze lifted to me, surveying. “You okay?”

“Right as rain.”

He grunted. “That boy looks like you just stole his last cookie.”

I couldn’t help taking a quick glance over my shoulder. Holt’s focus was zeroed in on me, his thumb skating back and forth under his bottom lip. The move was so familiar it lit an ache in the deepest parts of me. Igniting a wish that things could be different. That I could erase the last ten years somehow and change that day and everything that followed.

I jerked my gaze back to my computer. “Definitely wasn’t me.”

Abel snorted. “Whatever you say.”

The phone rang, and I hurried to slip my headset on. “Cedar Ridge police, fire, and medical. What’s your emergency?”

“Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.” A woman’s voice cut across the line, breathy and staccato.

“Ma’am, can you tell me what’s happening?” I quickly scanned the readout as the woman continued her chant. “Ms. Peterson. You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

“H-he’s dead. I think he’s dead.”

“Who’s dead?” My hands flew across the keyboard as Abel got on the radio to alert officers.

“Albert. I—oh, God. I think someone shot him.”

Blood pounded in my ears as the world around me tunneled. Albert Peterson. My sophomore biology and junior chemistry teacher. The man who had always looked at me with kindness. Who had always taken those extra minutes to check in and make sure I was doing okay. One of the members of that club no one wanted to be a member of but were thankful for just the same. A survivor.

“Ms. Peterson. Where are you?”

“I j-just got home, and he was lying on the kitchen floor.”

“I need you to check and see if you can feel a pulse or determine if he’s breathing.”

“There’s so much blood.”

Flashes of memories cycled in my mind. The fire in my chest. The cool tile beneath me. The sticky substance tracking down my arm.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. “I know it’s scary, but you can do this. Officers and EMTs are on their way to you now.”

The room behind me was in an uproar. I knew everyone but two officers would take this call. Off-duty cops would flood the place in minutes, wanting to offer their help and support. And our community would lose their mind.

“Oh, God. He’s breathing.”

All the air left me in a whoosh. “That’s good. Can you see the wound?”

“It’s in his chest or his shoulder.” Ms. Peterson struggled to get the words out around her sobs.

“Grab a towel and put pressure on the wound. We want to do everything we can to slow the blood loss.”

“I’ve got one.”

A low moan sounded in the background.

“I’m so sorry, Al. I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.”

“Ms. Peterson, is anyone else in the house with you? Did you see anyone when you came in?”

“No, no one. Who would do this?” Her words were a hushed plea.

I didn’t know. The kind of cruelty it would take to do this to a man who had already been through hell was almost too much to comprehend. “Are there any weapons in the home?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

I could hear Abel relaying all this information to the responding officers.

“I hear sirens. They’re coming.”

“Just stay on the phone with me until they tell you otherwise.”

“Don’t let him die.” Ms. Peterson’s voice trembled with the force of her sobs. “Please, don’t let him die. I almost lost him once…”

Silent tears streamed down my face. “Keep fighting. For both of you.”

“Cedar Ridge police.”

I recognized Nash’s voice across the line.

Ms. Peterson’s sobs just came harder. “Help him. Please, help him.”

There were muffled calls of “clear” and then Nash’s voice was in my ear. “We’ve got her, Wren.”

“O-okay.” It was only then that my voice trembled. Knowing she was safe. That Mr. Peterson had a fighting chance now that help had arrived.

I pulled my headset off in a shaky daze, barely aware as I hung up the call. The world around me had a fuzzy quality to it like an old television set with a weak signal.

Someone swung my chair around. I couldn’t make out the face, only a blurry form. It was the scent that told me everything. Pine with a hint of spice.

I didn’t think, I simply threw myself at Holt. His arms wrapped around me. I wasn’t sure if I was crying or simply shaking but Holt was my anchor. The only way I could stay in the here and now.

He held me, and he didn’t let go.