Aside from learning that she’d been rushed into surgery, Will hadn’t heard anything yet. The night stretched out ahead of them, but he couldn’t imagine leaving. His memories kept taking him back to how she’d looked when they sat beside each other in third grade and then forward to the image of the ravaged creature he’d carried in his arms earlier that day. She was a stranger now, but she’d been a friend once, and that was enough for him.
He wondered if the police would come back. They’d arrived with his parents, and he’d told them what he knew, but they’d been more interested in why he’d brought Blaze to the hospital instead of allowing the paramedics to do so. Will had been truthful—he hadn’t remembered they were on-site, and he could see she needed to get to the hospital immediately—and thankfully, they’d understood that. He thought he’d even seen Officer Johnson nod slightly, and Will had the sense that in the same situation, Officer Johnson would have done the same thing.
Every time the door beyond the nurses’ station opened, Will searched for one of the nurses who’d been there to receive Blaze. In the car, Ronnie had somehow been able to get through to the hospital, and a trauma team was waiting; within a minute, Blaze was on a gurney and being led away. It was almost ten minutes before either he or Ronnie could think of anything to say to each other. Instead they sat motionless, holding hands, trembling at the memory of Blaze screaming in the truck.
The hospital door opened again, and Will recognized Blaze’s mom as she walked toward them.
Both Will and Ronnie stood. When she was close, Will could see the tension lines around her mouth.
“One of the nurses told me you were still out here. I wanted to come down to thank you for what you did.”
Her voice cracked, and Will swallowed, realizing his throat had gone dry.
“Is she going to be okay?” he managed to croak out.
“I don’t know yet. She’s still in surgery.” Blaze’s mom focused on Ronnie. “I’m Margaret Conway. I don’t know if Galadriel ever mentioned me.”
“I’m really sorry, Mrs. Conway.” Ronnie gently reached out to touch her arm.
The woman sniffed, trying and failing to stay composed. “I am, too,” she began. Her voice became more ragged as she went on. “I told her a hundred times to stay away from Marcus, but she just wouldn’t listen, and now my little girl—”
She broke off, unable to contain her sobs. Will watched, paralyzed, as Ronnie stepped forward to hold her, both of them crying in each other’s arms.
As Will drove the streets of Wrightsville Beach, everything stood out in glittering focus. He was driving fast but knew he could drive even faster. In a split-second glance, he was able to notice details that ordinarily would have escaped him: the soft, misty halo around the streetlamps, an overturned garbage can in the alley beside the Burger King, the small dent near the license plate of a cream-colored Nissan Sentra.
Beside him, Ronnie was watching him anxiously but hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t asked where they were going, but she didn’t have to. As soon as Blaze’s mom had left the waiting room, Will had stood without a word and stalked furiously back to the truck. Ronnie had followed and climbed into the passenger seat.
Up ahead, the traffic light turned yellow, but instead of slowing the car, Will floored it. The engine revved and the truck shot forward, toward Bower’s Point.
He knew the quickest route and navigated the turns easily; leaving the business district, the truck roared past quiet oceanfront homes. The pier was next, and then Ronnie’s house; he didn’t so much as slow down. Instead, he pushed the truck to the limits of safety.
Next to him, Ronnie was holding on to the handgrip as he made the final turn into a gravel parking lot almost hidden by the trees. The truck skidded to a halt on the gravel as Ronnie finally found the nerve to speak.
“Please don’t do this.”
Will heard her and knew what she wanted, but he hopped out of the truck anyway. Bower’s Point wasn’t far. Accessed only by the beach, it lay just around the corner, a couple of hundred meters past the lifeguard stand.
Will broke into a jog. He knew Marcus would be here; he felt it. He began to run flat out, images flashing through his mind: the fire at the church, the night at the carnival, the way he’d grabbed Ronnie by the arms… and Blaze, going up in flames.
Marcus hadn’t tried to help her. He’d run away when she needed him, when she could have died.
Will didn’t care what might happen to him. He didn’t care what might happen to Scott. He was beyond that now. This time, Marcus had gone too far. As he rounded the corner, he spotted them in the distance, seated on pieces of driftwood around a small campfire.