"Put him away for a long, long time," Chris said bitterly. "I don't know how he got out so soon, but he can't get out and hurt someone again."
"The attempted murder charge against him would have been enough to lock him away for a while, but the other charges'll mean additional time, especially since someone sustained an injury connected to the barn fire. I don't think you'll have to worry about him for quite some time."
"I didn't think I'd have to before and look what happened."
The officer nodded. "I hear you. We make arrests in the morning and they're on the streets before we get off our shift sometimes."
She flipped her notebook shut and tucked it into a pocket on her shirt. "You know," she said, giving him a direct look, "I figure all you can do is what you think is the right thing every day and hope for the best. That's all."
She nodded when his eyes searched hers. "I did a tour in the Middle East myself. I know about what happens when someone dares to speak up."
Draining the last of her coffee, she stood. "Well, that's it.Let's go upstairs and see if the family knows anything yet."
Pain.
There was so much pain. It was overwhelming—as if her arm had exploded and the side of her stomach was on fire.
But pain meant she was still alive, praise God.
Hannah felt sheets with her hands and something lumpy on one side of her body. And she couldn't move the arm that hurt. It felt like it was strapped to something hard and when she tried to move it, even a little, the effort nearly made her pass out again.
The air smelled antiseptic, too, and something beeped.Hospital! She slowly remembered she'd been shot. She must be in the hospital now.
But dear God, how could one survive this kind of pain?
Hannah moaned and tried to open her eyes. Voices came to her, familiar voices.
"I can't, Jenny!"
Chris? Was that his voice? Was that really Chris? That awful man hadn't hurt him?
"Come on," Jenny said. "People can hear even when they're unconscious. Hannah needs to hear that you're all right. You don't know what I had to do to talk the head nurse into letting you see Hannah."
Hannah wanted to tell them that she could hear them. She could hear them too well. Her head hurt almost as much as her arm and her side. That didn't make sense. She remembered being shot, remembered falling. Maybe she hit it on the road when she fell. She couldn't remember—couldn't think.
"It's not important that I'm all right," Chris said. "It's only important that she is."
"You can help her by talking to her. Now sit and talk to her.I got you five minutes and that's it."
"I shouldn't take away from the time you and Matthew get—"
"I want to see if I can get him to eat something in the cafeteria."
Someone took her hand and it was a big, warm, rough hand.
"Hannah? Can you hear me?"
Chris!
She tried to tell him she could hear him, but she was so tired only a whisper came out.
"What? Sweetheart, please, wake up. I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I want you to yell at me. Anything. Just wake up."
Sweetheart? He'd called her sweetheart? And why was he sorry? He hadn't done anything.
"Tell me you forgive me."
She managed to get her eyes open and stared up into his face, his dear, dear face. "You—you didn't do anything wrong."
The effort to speak took everything out of her, and she fell asleep again.
When she awoke later, Jenny and Phoebe were standing beside her bed, smiling.
They exchanged glances and then both of them gave her a hug, careful not to jar her.
"We heard you woke up," Jenny told her as she pulled up chairs for Phoebe and herself. "We're not allowed to stay long."
Hannah glanced around, then toward the door.
Jenny laughed. "I think she's hoping Chris is here," she told Phoebe.
"He hasn't left?" Hannah tried to sound casual.
"No, he's helping Matthew."
"He was leaving that day."
"I know. He thought if he did that he could keep Kraft from hurting anyone else."
Hannah shifted, trying to get comfortable— the movement took her breath away. She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying out and she tasted blood.
"I'll get the nurse," Phoebe said and quickly left the room.
"C'mon, use the pump," Jenny advised, curling Hannah's fingers around it. "Breathe through it. You can do it."
When the pain subsided, Hannah opened her eyes and realized tears had streaked down her cheeks.
"How—how did you get through it?" she asked, her voice shaky.
Jenny stroked her hair back. "It'll get better. I promise." She stared at Hannah intensely. "You're a lucky girl."