48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Kayla

I must have lost consciousness because the next time I open my eyes, I'm greeted by the sharp light of fluorescent tubes on the ceiling of a hospital room. Someone dressed me in a hospital gown, and there's a needle in my arm, making me wonder just how long I've been out.

My head is still pounding, the light hurting my eyes, so I let them close again as I try to gather my scattered thoughts. Most of them revolve around Adams and the all-consuming terror I felt, but then I remember crawling through the pool of blood. Ethan's blood.

"Ethan?" I rasp out, my throat so dry that it hurts to even breathe.

"You're safe, Ms. Reynolds," a soft female voice says from somewhere next to me. "Drink."

A straw touches my lips, and I suck in a sip of heavenly cold water. "Where's Ethan? What happened?"

A careful squint around reveals a nurse standing beside my bed. "I'm afraid I can't reveal that information. You should rest. You have a major concussion and—wait, what are you doing?!"

She grabs my shoulder when I try to sit up, holding me down with ease. "I need to see him." My voice is so raspy I don't even recognize it. "I need to know. Please."

"Mr. Bennett is still in surgery," a new voice announces from the door. It's vaguely familiar, but my aching brain refuses to place it. "He lost a lot of blood, but the doctors are confident he's going to make it."

Relieved, I stop struggling against the nurse, who heaves a sigh. "That's confidential, Sheriff," she chides, finally helping me identify the blurred person. "You should know better than anyone not to reveal information about patients."

"I think Ms. Reynolds deserves to know, since she either fought to save his life or was the one who shot him."

"What?" I croak out. "I didn't shoot him. Adams did." With a pained groan, I grab my forehead, wishing the incessant throbbing would stop and let me focus.

The nurse scowls. "Ms. Reynolds needs rest. She's not ready to give a statement yet, Sheriff. The doctor told you as much."

"He told me she can give a statement when she feels ready," the sheriff rebukes. "I just came to ask if she felt ready."

"Yes," I say before the nurse can react. "I'm ready. It was all Adams. He lured me into that house to kill me, and Ethan came to save me. Adams shot him. Then Ethan…" I frown, trying to remember what exactly happened. "I think he threw something at Adams?"

Sheriff's chuckle is sinister. "Oh, yes. You could say that Ethan Bennett hit his usual bullseye."

"Sheriff!" the nurse gasps in outrage. "That was inappropriate!"

"Come on, Melinda. It was a once-in-a-lifetime pun! Anyway, Doctor Adams claims it was you who invited him into that house so that you could kill him."

Now it's my turn to gasp in outrage. "What the fuck?! How can he say that? It doesn't even make any sense! Why would I want to kill him?"

"Yes, many things about his statement don't make sense. But since Mr. Bennett is still incapacitated, Doctor Adams' statement is the only thing we have to go on. Which is why I hoped you'd be willing to give me yours to shine some light on the events."

I nod, wincing when it causes another wave of nausea. I swallow the bile, washing it down with more water. "Absolutely. I'm ready."

"Well, then, start at the beginning, please."

My vision swims, and I can barely hear over the pounding in my ears by the time I finish speaking, but I tell the sheriff everything. How Adams hated me for interviewing Aaron, how he trashed my car, how he stalked me even after I "moved in" with Ethan. I skirt over the unimportant details, like the fact that Ethan stalked me too, or that he kidnapped me. The police don't need to know that.

I do my best to recount all the details of the fight in the abandoned house and how Adams lured me there by stealing Georgia's phone.

The sheriff keeps nodding and jotting down notes in his notebook. "I have to say that your version makes much more sense than what Doctor Adams said," he says when I finish talking. "Just one last question. Your relationship with Ethan Bennett is consensual, right? Because Doctor Adams mentioned something about Ethan kidnapping you and killing hundreds of people?"

I take in a deep breath. Until now, I haven't lied. I might have left out some details, but I haven't outright lied. I'm about to, though, because protecting Ethan is more important than following some stupid laws like "you shall not lie to the police" or whatever.

"Absolutely consensual," I say. That part isn't even a lie. "There was no kidnapping and most certainly no murders. I mean, seriously, Sheriff. Can you imagine Ethan Bennett as a serial killer?" I chuckle, hoping he'll attribute the strain in my voice to my injuries and not to my nervousness.

To my relief, the sheriff roars out a laugh. "Yeah, I don't see that happening. Looks like our dear Doctor Adams has truly lost his marbles. Ethan Bennett…" He laughs again, then shakes his head. "Do you know that my wife has a picture of him between her books on the nightstand? Like, seriously. I basically live with that guy. Half the town does, I guess. A serial killer." He snorts. "That's a good one."

"Yeah, a good one," I agree, trying to hide my surprise at how easily he dismissed the very true notion of Ethan being a serial killer. Ethan's hard work on his "cover" life here in Bluebell Springs has truly paid off. "So, uh…you arrested Adams, right?"

"Yep," the sheriff replies, popping the P like a gum bubble. "He's here in the hospital since they're trying to save his eye, but two of my officers are with him. He's not going anywhere. You're safe, Ms. Reynolds and…" For the first time since he came here, his confident, almost arrogant facade cracks. He shifts nervously, avoiding my look. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about earlier, Ms. Reynolds."

I frown in confusion. "Earlier?"

"When you reported the break-in," he explains. "And then with your car… We didn't take it seriously enough."

"Oh." The break-in that happened a week before I even met Adams for the first time.

The sheriff is either too stupid to realize that—even though I told him the exact dates the best I could—or is trying to pin it on Adams to close an unsolved case and make himself look better. This town is really a mess if a person like that is in charge of law enforcement.

"Of course, Sheriff," I say through my gritted teeth. I just want him gone so that I can close my eyes for a minute to relieve the throbbing pain. Maybe munch on some painkillers too. "You said it yourself. This town is full of good, law-abiding people. No serial killers." Perhaps this idiot of a sheriff was the reason Ethan chose to settle here. There's no way this moron would ever solve an actual crime.

"Exactly!" I wince at his exclamation, and he immediately lowers his voice. "Oh, my apologies. Concussion. I forgot. I'll take my leave so that you can rest, Ms. Reynolds. Thank you for your cooperation. You'll probably have to swing by the station to sign a statement, but that's just a formality that can wait."

The door clicks, and finally, he's gone. I let out a relieved groan and sink into the pillow, wishing my stomach would settle and my world would stop spinning. I could really use some heavy-duty painkillers right now. Where's that mean nurse when you need her?