“Was she still alive?”
“I think so, but I'm not sure.”
“Did he—?”
“Nate, stop interrogating her,” Sam growled.
“I'm sorry, Nate,” Naomi cried. “He got her because of me, because she didn't want him to hurt me.”
Nate took a long breath, deliberately calming himself, then he crouched in front of the sofa, resting his hands on Naomi’s knees. “It’s not your fault, Naomi. I don’t mean to be hard on you, I'm just scared. I'm glad you and the baby are okay, and I know Rylla would be too. She couldn’t have let him hurt you, you know that.”
“What if he kills her?” Naomi’s voice was stark. Sam knew his wife, and he knew that if her best friend died to protect her, then Naomi would never forgive herself.
“No,” Nate said firmly, holding Naomi’s face between his hands. “We will find her. We will. That man will not take her away from us.”
Naomi nodded, then sunk against him, still crying quietly. Sam tightened his hold on them. His wife and little girl. His family. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he got them to the hospital, and they were checked out, and a doctor told him that they were both okay, but at least he could hold them.
No one messed with his family and got away with it.
He hoped Beau Drake suffered a horrible death for the grief that he’d caused and for laying a finger on his wife.
The baby chose that moment to give a loud cry and begin to squirm. Naomi squeezed the baby tighter, and he squeezed them both tighter.
His girls.
He was so grateful he hadn’t lost them.
They were alive.
Alive.
Alive and in his arms.
And he was never letting them go again.
August 2nd
7:07 A.M.
“Thanks for letting us speak with the kids so early,” Matthew said as Elliot Franklin opened the door to his house.
Nate still couldn’t believe this was happening.
Rylla was gone. She could be dead already.
He didn't want to think like that, but he couldn’t stop himself.
He had seen the pictures of the other victims. In his mind he kept conjuring up pictures of what the killer would do to her. How would he kill her? Would it be quick? Would he draw it out and make it as painful as possible? The killer didn't appear to enjoy inflicting pain, but if Rylla made him angry then he would lose control.
They knew she was already hurt.
Naomi had seen her get shot and collapse, and they’d tested the blood on the floor to confirm it was Rylla’s.
It was.
At least Beau had spared Naomi and the baby. Though if they hadn’t arrived when they had the baby might not have survived much longer. By the time paramedics arrived the baby’s body temperature was low, and overwhelmed, exhausted, and traumatized, Naomi had passed out in Sam’s arms. They had both been taken to the hospital, where the baby had been warmed up, and Naomi’s wound had been tended to. Now, almost twelve hours later, they were both doing well and resting comfortably, Sam protectively at their side. Nate doubted his friend would be letting his wife or daughter out of his sight any time soon.
He’d thought he had a chance at happiness like that with Rylla. A chance to have a family again, a wife who loved him and would never leave him, who would support his attempts to get his son back, and to give him more children.