Chapter 21

Snippets of conversations filtered into my muddled mind: “He’s going to recover, but it will take several weeks,” “We’ve detained a suspect,” and, making me struggle to wake up, “Please come back to me, Mike, please.”

A pale, late afternoon sun, as soft as it was, stabbed into my brain when I opened my eyes. My chest hurt. Breathing was painful. At first, everything was out of focus. Then Amelia’s face swam into sharpness. Smoky eyes behind frameless glasses looked at me, and she burst into tears.

My pain and discomfort were forgotten.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry,” I begged. Amelia looked awful; hair, usually so soft and feathery, was limp. She was so pale.

Lifting her glasses, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, gave me a half-hearted smile, and reached for my hand. Her touch was delicate and her hand ice cold.

Peter looked at me from behind her.

“What did you do to her?” I asked in a whisper.

Then all the memories flooded back. I inhaled sharply and winced at the pain. “Where’s Rufus? Is he okay?”

Amelia nodded. She finally spoke. “He’s at the vet recovering.”

“What’s wrong with you?” I whispered, still shocked at her appearance.

Amelia glared at me, eyes darkening. “You’re what’s wrong with me! You almost died!” Then tears welled in her beautiful eyes. “You almost left me behind, Mike.”

“Never,” I whispered, squeezing her slender hand. Fatigue washed in. I tried to fight it and failed, eyes closing, Amelia’s hand providing comfort.

Darkness greeted me when I stirred again. Around me, busy sounds of a hospital - people talking, hurried footsteps, and muted conversations - filtered in through the closed door. Amelia was curled up in a chair at my bedside, asleep. She looked terrible and it hurt me. Breathing was slightly less painful, but I had no energy. I lay quietly watching her sleep. She was so beautiful, despite her bedraggled, unkempt appearance.

As if she could feel me watching her, she stirred and opened her eyes. Tears welled again. They hurt me so. “Don’t cry,” I said in a slightly stronger voice. “I’ll never heal if you do.”

Amelia smiled. She wiped her eyes and stood, coming to my side. “Why didn’t you run?” she asked, reaching out to touch my face.

“I had to help Rufus.”

“Kay. But, promise you’ll never leave me.”

Two days later a taxi dropped us off at home. Had I had the energy, I would have been infuriated at the gaggle of paparazzi milling at the end of our drive. Peter helped me into the house, Amelia clutching my free hand.

Settled on the couch in the den, still exhausted, with Amelia sitting tight to my side, holding my hand, Peter brought me up to speed.

“The intruder claimed he’s a fan of Amelia’s and was just trying to save her from the prison you were keeping her in. That scrap of T-shirt you tore from him linked him to the crime. He’s in jail awaiting trial. Apparently, his IQ is just north of seventy-five; a real idiot.”