THIRTY-THREE
Amanda had a kink in the side of her neck that was shooting pain into her skull. No matter how she angled her head, trying to stretch it out, the damn cord in her neck bit. Guess that’s what happened when a person slept in a waiting-room chair—but she hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Honestly, she could hardly believe she had. She was only stirring now because she heard the words, “He’s back.”
She cracked open her eyes, barely establishing her bearings when she saw her parents, Ida, Sam, and Paul with a doctor.
She fumbled to her feet and joined them.
The doctor dipped his head subtly to acknowledge her arrival but carried on with what he had been saying. “Good news is he’s aware of where he is and what’s happened. And he’s asking for you.” The doctor leveled his gaze at Ida. “I’ll be conducting tests this morning to see if we can uncover what caused your husband to pass out, Mrs. Malone. These answers are not always easy to detect, and getting to the bottom of it may take a while. Just want you to know that, so you don’t expect immediate answers.”
“I… I understand.” Ida put an arm around Paul, and Sam squeezed his mother’s hand. “Can I see him now?”
“You can, but it’s best that we keep the visiting short. And limited to as few people as possible.” He swept his gaze over the group. Some brothers in blue had filtered in over the night as the news of Malone’s accident and medical condition reached them. Amanda’s siblings had shown up at various times too, but none of them were there now.
Amanda looked around and saw Trent in the corner of the waiting room, keeping his distance and giving the family space. She looked back at the doctor, who was telling Ida and her sons to follow him. Amanda met her father’s gaze. He briefly glanced away, as if he didn’t want her to read the emotion in them, the fragility.
“He’s in good hands, Dad.”
Her father simply nodded, gave a pressed-lip smile, and dragged himself toward a chair.
The doctor had mentioned they’d be conducting tests that morning. What time is it, or day even? Amanda pulled out her phone. Thursday, seven AM. Seven! Last she knew her eyelids had been growing heavy around three thirty.
She went over to Trent. “You didn’t have to stay.”
A flicker of irritation sparked in his eyes. “This is where I wanted to be, where I was needed.”
If she wasn’t concerned about crossing any lines, she’d throw her arms around him. It pained her to resist the urge. But his staying wasn’t any sort of declaration of romantic feelings for her. He was being a supportive partner, and Malone was his boss too.
She was so exhausted that all her bones ached, not just her neck. And if she felt that way, her poor father couldn’t be faring much better. “Just a minute,” she said to Trent and returned to her father. “You should go home, and get some rest. I’m sure the doctor will call you when there’s more to tell.”
Her father shook his head. “Your mother and I aren’t going anywhere until we know more.”
“You don’t know how long that might be. You heard what the doctor said.”
Her father’s facial features shadowed and took on hard lines. “Not leaving, Amanda. We’re here as long as Ida and the boys are.”
Amanda gave him a small nod. There was no talking her father out of something once his mind was made up. She hugged her parents and went back to Trent. She caught him in a yawn. “Did you catch any sleep?”
“Not really. You did, though. Did you know you snore like a drunken sailor?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. She was mortified. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Trent was grinning. “Gotcha.”
She shoved him in the shoulder, and he reached for her hand to help keep his balance. His palm was warm and soft. She pulled her hand back. She would endeavor to ignore how her skin felt scorched from his touch—and not in a bad way.
“What are you wanting to do now? Wait around or…?” he asked.
The only thing that had helped her at all after losing Kevin and Lindsey was throwing herself into the job, and that was all that was going to save her now. Her body begged for sleep, but she doubted she could rest at all. She’d likely just lie in bed, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. Such a waste of time when there was a killer out there who could strike again—not that they’d heard from the officers watching over Lopez and Reynolds. No news would mean nothing had flagged as concerning. Still, cops were human, and things could be missed. Yet she had more than herself to consider. “Up to you. You’re probably dreaming of your pillow.”
“I am, but I don’t think I could sleep right now.”
“Tired-wired?”
“One way of putting it, if you mean you’ve passed the point of exhaustion and looped around to being fully awake. There’s just too much going on. We’re getting closer to solving this case, though, I’m sure of it. And how could I possibly sleep knowing what everyone is going through here?”
She admired how Trent was more concerned about others than himself. After all, Trent would be emotionally invested in Malone’s diagnosis. “How I feel too,” she said.
“Hey, catching a killer has to be a good way to distract the mind.”
“I’ve found it effective.”
Trent frowned, and she could read the sympathy in his eyes. It was like it was just sinking in for him how she’d been in a hospital in the past due to a car accident when her family had died. She led the way out of the waiting room before things could get all soft and mushy. She was running on less than fumes by this point, and her nerves were shot. It wouldn’t take much to get emotional, and there was a job to do. “What do you say we grab some jumbo coffees from Hannah’s Diner, then hit up Paws and Claws?” she asked him.