police. He’d seen Alan threatening her. Wait, wasn’t he the police?
“I don’t... I don’t understand,” she whispered. “What happened? Who are you?”
He gently pushed her back, his hands holding her upper arms. “I’m Christopher Downing, a detective and SWAT officer from the Destiny Police Department. I called for backup before I came in here.” He scanned her from head to toe, as if searching for injuries. “Are you okay? Did he cut you?”
She blinked, her jumbled thoughts starting to come together again. “N-no. I mean, yes, he did. My back. But it’s not—”
He carefully turned her around.
His fingers touched her cuts through her shirt, making them sting. She sucked in a breath.
“Sorry.” He turned her to face him again. “There isn’t much blood. You probably won’t need stitches. Did he hurt you, in any other way?”
She frowned, trying to understand what he meant. Then she got it. He was asking whether she’d been sexually assaulted. Heat crept up her neck.
“No, he didn’t...ah...do...anything else.” She pulled away, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.
The sirens had stopped. Red-and-blue lights flashed through the front windows. She was vaguely aware of a door opening, footsteps echoing on the hardwood. Chris guided her to the couch and she sat down, her gaze automatically going to the body on the floor. Deep voices spoke in quiet tones. Another voice, a woman’s, said something in reply.
Blood. There was so much blood. How could one person bleed that much?
She wrapped her arms around her middle.
The couch dipped beside her. A policewoman. She was dressed in black body armor. Bright white letters across the front of her vest read SWAT.
“Hello, Ms. Webb.” The woman’s voice was kind, gentle. “I’m Officer Donna Waters.” She waved her hands at her uniform, the gun strapped at her waist. “Don’t let this gear bother you. We came prepared for a possible hostage situation.” She patted Julie’s hand. “An ambulance is on the way to take you to the hospital to get checked out. But you’re safe now. You’re going to be okay.”
The woman’s words seeped slowly into her brain as if through a thick fog. “Hospital? No. No, no, no. I’m not hurt. I don’t want to go to a hospital.”
“Ms. Webb?”
The now-familiar masculine voice had her turning her head. Chris Downing, the man who’d risked his own life for her, knelt on the floor, his expression full of compassion and concern.
“We’ll take your statement after you’ve seen a doctor. Is there anyone I can call—”
“Is he dead?”
Her question seemed to startle him, but he quickly smoothed out his expression. “I’m afraid so, yes. Do you want me to—”
She grabbed his hands in hers and stared into his eyes. Could she trust him? Would he tell her the truth?
He frowned. “Ms. Webb—”
“Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive that he’s dead?”
He had to think she was crazy. But she’d been here before. She’d been the woman sitting on the couch while the policeman told her that he was dead. And then he...wasn’t. And then...and then. She shuddered.
“Is he dead?” She held her breath, waiting for his reply.
He exchanged a look with the female officer before answering. “Yes. I’m sorry. Yes, he’s dead.”
She covered her mouth with her hands, desperately trying to keep from falling apart.
He’s dead. Oh, my God. He’s dead.
“Someone will take your official statement after you’ve been checked out at the hospital. But can you tell us anything right now about the man who attacked you? Did you know him?”
“Know him?” A bubble of hysterical laughter burst between her lips. “I married him.”
Chris exchanged a startled look with Donna as he knelt in front of the couch. His neighbor, Julie Webb, had just announced that the intruder Chris had killed was her husband. And, instead of being angry or crying or...something that made sense, she was rocking back and forth with her arms around her middle, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The rocking wasn’t the part that was odd. What had the hairs standing up on his neck were the words that she kept whispering over and over in response to him telling her that her husband was dead.
“Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Her callous words didn’t seem to match the fragile, lost look in her deep blue eyes, as if she were caught in a nightmare and couldn’t find her way out. He instinctively wanted to reach for her, pull her into his arms, tell her that everything would be okay. But the words she kept chanting sent a chill up his spine and started alarm bells going off in his suspicious detective’s brain.
If she’d been abused by her husband, which seemed likely given that he’d held a knife on her, Chris could understand her relief that her husband couldn’t hurt her anymore. And he’d seen the fear in her eyes earlier today, which lent more evidence to the abuse theory. But he’d also seen many domestic violence cases, and almost without fail, the abused party would defend her abuser. If a cop tried to arrest the husband, or hurt him while trying to protect the wife, nine times out of ten that wife would immediately leap to the husband’s defense. Julie’s actions were nothing like what he was used to seeing in those cases. The whole situation just seemed...off.
“The chief’s motioning for you.” Donna kept her voice low. “Go on. I’ll sit with her until the ambulance arrives.”
He hesitated, feeling guilty for wanting to jump at her offer. He’d created this mess. He should have to stay and deal with the fallout, including whatever was going on with Julie Webb.
“It’s okay. I’ve got this,” she reassured him. “Go.” She put her hand on Julie’s back, lightly patting it like she would a child. Julie didn’t even seem to notice. She just kept rocking and repeating her obscene prayer.
As if drawn by some invisible force, Chris’s gaze slid to the body of the man who was dead because of him. This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone in the line of duty. Being on the only SWAT team within a hundred miles of Destiny meant he was often called out to help other small towns or unincorporated areas when violence landed on their doorstep. But every time he’d had to use lethal force, the what-ifs and second-guessing haunted him for a long time afterward. He didn’t expect this one would be any different.
He wished he could put a sheet over the man, afford him some kind of dignity in death. But the uniformed officer standing near the body was his reminder that the scene had to be preserved until the Blount County coroner arrived. And since Destiny shared their coroner with a handful of other rural counties, that could be a while from now. Two more uniformed
