"It wasn't the time. I realized that, which is why I let you go."
Not quite how I remember it, but I let him have that and then say, "It was you in my house, too." My words are starting to slur, but I push on. Keep him talking. "You planned to fake your escape and show up in my house and take me captive from there. Yet it wasn't that easy, was it?"
"Again, I made a slight misstep. Roger's fault. I decided it was too risky, grabbing you and getting past him. I also decided I was missing an opportunity. The chance to snatch Nicole back from under your nose. You've been beaten, Detective. Leave it at that. Now you'll come along quietly, confident in your ability to escape."
"No."
The gun going still. "What?"
I struggle to speak clearly. "I saw that hole. There's no way I can go with you and expect to live. I'll die slowly and horribly in a cave somewhere, and Nicole will die, too. I'm her replacement. So, no, I'm not going with you. For her sake."
This isn't what he expected, and he's thinking fast.
"Will?" I say, fighting to keep my words clear as the drug threatens to silence me. "I'm going to ask you to take the shot. Benjamin will try to kill me. He might even succeed. But shoot to wound him and then keep him alive and in pain--horrible pain--until he tells you where to find Nicole. Can you do--"
Benjamin shoves me. Hard. I'm stumbling, trying to right myself. A gun fires. Something hits me in the back. Hits me hard. Another shot. Shouts. Footfalls. I'm falling, and I hear shots and shouts and then ...
Darkness.
SIXTY-FIVE
I wake in bed. My brain feels like a poorly tethered balloon, threatening to float off.
There's a voice. It seems to be coming from miles away. I can't quite make it out, but it sounds urgent, anxious.
Huh. Something must be wrong.
A face appears in front of the ceiling. It's Dalton. He looks worried. Shit. What happened now?
"Casey? Can you hear me?"
I close my eyes.
"No! Wait! Casey!"
I drop back into dreamless sleep.
*
The next time I wake, I bolt up like an alarm is screeching in my ear. Which it is--the screech of my inner voice telling me to get up, Benjamin's on the run, and what the hell am I doing, lying here--
Pain. Blinding, gasp-inducing pain blasts through my shoulder. Hands grab me. Hands lower me back to bed. Push me back to bed. Dalton's voice saying, "Relax. Just relax. You're okay. Everything's okay."
I blink hard to clear my vision. I'm in his bed. He's there, over me, fussing with my pillow and saying, "You've been shot. You're okay, but you've been shot."
He's measuring out painkillers. I say, "Not that."
"Yes, this. You're in a lot of pain--"
"I can't think on meds."
"You can't think if you're in pain, either."
"Eric, please. You know I hate taking--"
He shakes the bottle and says, "Tylenol three. Yeah, Will gave you morphine at first, but now it's just these, which you are taking. You've been shot in the shoulder."
"You got Benjamin?"