THE WAIL WAS UNEXPECTED. DEEP, WRENCHING, IT ERUPTED from my belly. I stood frozen, staring at Nick’s unmoving form. Eventually I managed to take a breath, then another. But I still couldn’t move. Maybe it was Nick’s stillness, his unnatural position. Or maybe the crimson liquid clotting on his head.
Then I remembered—Molly—Molly was there with me, her small hand still in mine. I looked at her, saw the mirror of my own scream frozen on her face.
“Molly,” I heard my voice urge. Other than her name, I couldn’t manage to make words. She was trembling, swallowing air.
I stroked Molly’s face, telling her to breathe. Nick’s face was in my hands, a bad shade of gray, lips apart, head slumped and bloody. So very bloody. Then my hand was under Nick’s jacket, where he was still warm, still familiar. My fingers, lingering, trying to smooth and caress death away. But Nick didn’t stir.
The office, a voice in my head said, go into the office. But my legs were numb and useless. I knelt beside him, holding my breath, listening to his chest for a heartbeat, but hearing only the whisper of passing time. Molly’s face was covered with tears, and I wiped them away, smearing blood across her cheeks. Blood? Oh God. Nick’s blood, from my fingers. What was I doing? I had to take Molly away, not let her see this.
“Get up, Nick,” I heard myself say, and Molly echoed, “Get up, Nick.” I grabbed him under the arms, reached around him, and pulled. Molly helped, tugging at him. His torso came up, but his head flopped backward. We couldn’t move him. He was dead weight. Suddenly, from somewhere, leather soles clacked on linoleum. Someone walking. A guard? Or Woods? How long had we been there, tugging on Nick?
Molly looked at me, alarmed. I took her hand, reassuring her.
“Mommy, let’s go.” Molly pulled at me, whimpering.
The footsteps were coming our way. I let go of Nick’s hand and hurried Molly across the hall. We’d get into Beverly’s office and call for help. The police. An ambulance.
The door should have been locked, but it wasn’t. The footsteps came nearer, became more distinct. Any second, Woods would pop around the corner. Show up down the hall.
We ducked into the office. Close the door, a voice whispered. Lock it and call the police.
But before I did, in the alcove, someone moved. Woods? I quickly closed the door, just glimpsing Nick as he slid sideways, keeled over, and crumpled onto the floor.