Wes let out a harsh breath. “He didn’t mean for the Knight thing to happen either.”
A ripple of unease went through her at that, but she shook her head. This wasn’t like that. She had to trust her gut on this one. “I’ll be okay. I wouldn’t go in if I thought he’d hurt me.”
Wes cupped her face in his palm, and the concern in his eyes knocked her off-balance for a moment, but finally he nodded. “Go help him, but then come back safe to me.” He pinned her with a look. “There’s a conversation we need to have. I’ve got things to say. Don’t even try to get out of it by getting yourself shot.”
She smirked. “That’d be one hell of an avoidance tactic.”
“Yes,” he said seriously. “Don’t do that.”
“Right.” On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “It’s a date.”
He let out a long sigh.
Ten minutes later, they’d put Rebecca in a bulletproof vest and led her to the end of the sidewalk. That was as far as Steven said he wanted the cops to go. Rebecca stared along the broken pavement, her heart pounding so hard her breastbone hurt. The squad car lights flashing along the front of the house, the sound of voices around her, the tension like a fog in the air, all of it was trying to flip those dangerous switches inside her, the ones that would steal her away from this moment and drag her backward, make her useless. She couldn’t let that happen.
Focus.
She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the magnolia tree nearby, and forced herself to notice all the thi
ngs that anchored her to this moment. She needed to stay here. Fully present. Steven needed her strength. He needed her here.
She made her way up to the house and gently knocked on the door with two quick raps, something she’d warned Steven she’d do. The door lock clicked, and he called out that she should count to ten and then come in. She said the numbers aloud, and then with a surprisingly steady hand, she grabbed the knob, opened the door to the darkened interior, and stepped inside.
The coppery smell of blood hit her hard in the darkness, the familiarity almost knocking her over. A shock went through her like she’d run face-first into a wall. That smell permeated her nightmares. Scenes flashed through her mind—images of pooled blood beneath bodies, her own blood spreading beneath her leg, Finn bleeding on top of her. Bile rose in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut as the memories banged at the doors in her mind.
“Ms. Lindt?”
The small, trembly voice was like a flaming dart in the darkness, cutting through some of the visions trying to trample her. She swallowed back the burn in her throat. “Yes. It’s me.”
Steven flicked on a lamp. “Please don’t be scared. I swear I won’t hurt you.”
She forced her eyes his way, tried to breathe through the panic, and as her pupils adjusted to the sudden light, she spotted Steven sitting in a back corner of the living room. He’d positioned a recliner between him and the two windows that flanked the television. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows, but the edges were lit with the flashing blue and red of the police lights. The small, shadeless lamp he’d turned on had a dusty bulb and a yellow glow. His hair was soaked with sweat, his lips crusted with dried blood, and a dark bruise marred his cheekbone.
All those lanky limbs of his were pulled tightly to him, knees to chest, arms wrapped around them. Like a small child who was hiding from the boogeyman. She wanted to rush over, make sure he was okay, comfort him in some way. But the shiny black of the gun hanging loosely in one of his hands loomed large, freezing her to her spot.
She licked her dry lips, dragging her gaze from the gun to focus on the kid. On his eyes. She’d seen remorseless eyes, empty, cold gazes. Steven’s were brimming with emotion.
She lifted her palm as if trying to calm a startled animal. “I know you’re not going to hurt me. That’s why I’m here, even though the cops don’t want me to be.”
“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” he whispered, looking down.
“I believe you. I’m going to come closer, okay?” she said carefully. “I need you to promise me you won’t move the gun. I have a phobia about them, and I can’t promise I won’t freak out on you if you move it around.”
He glanced up at that, guilt there, and nodded. “I won’t.”
She approached him with painstaking steps, and when she was within about three feet of him, she lowered herself to the floor. Her eyes wanted to zero in on the gun, but she knew if she did, she’d lose her grip on staying in the moment.
“I don’t want to go to jail,” he said as if to himself.
“I know, honey.” She settled onto the cold tile floor as best she could. She lifted her phone. “I’m going to tell the police I’m in here and okay.” She spoke into the phone and then told them she needed a minute. She put it on mute. “Okay, they can’t hear us right now. Tell me what happened. Just you and me talking. I’m not wired, and I don’t have to tell because I’m your lawyer.”
Steven shook his head, tears tracking down his cheeks. “I shot him.”
“I know, but what happened?”
He wiped a hand down his face. “He was so…angry. He came home early and caught me packing. I should’ve played it off, but I was just…over it. I told him I wasn’t coming back, and no one was going to make me because he was an abusive asshole and that he was going to lose his job. It was such a dumb thing to say. He knew I’d reported him again when I said that. He lost his shit. Told me at least if he was going to get reported, he should make it count. He punched me and knocked me down. I was dizzy, but I managed to get to my feet. He was coming for me again. I thought he was going to kill me.”
His voice caught there, and he had to take several breaths before continuing.