Chapter 7
“Reid Foster went three days without sleep because of you, and now he almost got stabbed to death because
of you!”
I jabbed a finger toward the trauma bay, raising my voice so nurses and patients drifting by would hear.
“You keep calling yourself a fallen officer’s widow. If your late husband could see this from the other side- see you glued to his Captain and nearly getting him killed-how is he supposed to rest in peace?”
Lena went chalk-white. Her lips shook; words wouldn’t come. The tears poured even harder. “I didn’t… I
was scared…”
“Scared? Being scared gives you a pass to gamble with someone else’s life?”
I didn’t let up, louder still. “Last time, a burglar hit your building and he stayed with you till morning. This
time you rushed in and blew an arrest, and he took a knife. Do you think the world revolves around you, Lena? Do you think the Cap owes you so much he should hand over his life too?”
Murmurs rose. Someone pulled out a phone to record. Fingers pointed.
Even the teammates who’d blamed me earlier changed color. They might stand with Reid, but they knew
this one was on Lena.
Riley tried to cut in for her, and I snapped, “Don’t you dare, Riley. He’s your Captain. You watched him risk himself again and again for this woman-doesn’t that tear you up?”
Lena panicked for real. She lurched up, reaching for me. I yanked free.
“Don’t touch me. You’re bad news. If anything happens to Reid, I will never let you breathe easy again.”
I made sure to drift toward the busy end of the corridor as I shouted, letting my words carry.
“Everyone, weigh in! This woman hides behind ‘widow of a fallen officer’ to cling to a married man, and now he nearly died because of her. Don’t tell me karma won’t come calling.”
She froze under the blast, curling into the bench and shaking, whispering “I didn’t mean it” over and over, making no sense at all.
I watched the panic bloom and felt a cool edge slide behind my eyes. This was only the start. People would see who she really was. And she would pay-for what she owed Reid, and for what she owed me.
Just then, the light over the trauma bay snapped off.
A doctor stepped out and said Reid was out of immediate danger. I reeled my temper back in a heartbeat, hurried forward, asking about his condition-while my peripheral vision caught Lena ducking into the crook of a hallway with her phone, whispering so fast I barely recognized her voice.
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“…He’s alive. Don’t worry… I’ll figure something out…”
A thought clicked hard. I drifted after her, thumbed open my camera, and started recording, lens just around the corner. The voice on the other end was a smear of sound through the phone, but I caught a name-one I knew too well: it was the name of her “dead” husband.
It was all on the clip I took in that hospital hallway.
Back in my rental, I replayed the muffled audio again and again. Then I called Old Man Carter at the
department.
“Run a check for me,” I said. “Lena Shaw’s husband-Mark Doyle.”
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