Page 133 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Garrett bounded up the steps and into the house. He froze at the threshold.

Uncle Dean was seated on the sectional.

But he wasn’t seated. He was slumped forward, his shirt stained red.

Cote said something, but Garrett couldn’t make out the words over the roaring in his ears.

“Jesus.” He felt unable to formulate more of a prayer than that as he rounded the sectional and crouched down beside his uncle. He touched his neck and felt a pulse.

“He’s alive. Help me!”

“Ambulance is on the way. Lay him flat and try to stanch the bleeding.” Cote moved up the stairs, gun still out, and disappeared from sight.

Garrett got Dean on his stomach, then snatched one of Aspen’s throw blankets from the back of the sofa and pressed it to the wound on Dean’s back. “I’m here, Uncle. You’re going to be okay.”

He’d literally been stabbed in the back. Sounds came from his mouth, but nothing Garrett could make out.

“Don’t talk. Try to open your eyes.”

Based on the stains on the white sofa, he’d lost a lot of blood. Alotof blood.

The blanket, a cheap fleece number, soaked it up. “Uncle, are you with me? Don’t give up.”

Dean spoke again, his words so quiet Garrett couldn’t hear.

“Save your energy.”

But he was trying to say something. Keeping pressure on the wound, Garrett angled his ear toward his uncle’s mouth.

“Wasn’t her.”

Wasn’t who?And then he realized… “Aspen? Of course not.” Why would he say that? Aspen wouldn’t… But this was her house, and her car was gone.

“Wasn’t her.”

“Who did this?” Garrett asked.

But Uncle Dean didn’t say anything more.

“You have to fight.” Garrett’s words were loud in the silence. “Deborah needs you.Ineed you. Please, don’t die.” Garrett leaned down and felt faint breath against his cheek.

Please, Jesus, please, Jesus, please, Jesus.

He couldn’t lose Dean. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Garrett said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do what you asked me to. I love you.”

Cote hurried back down the stairs. “She’s not here. Place is empty. What is she driving?”

“Aspen didn’t do it. Dean just said?—”

“What was she driving!”

“I don’t know! A rental, I think.”

Cote spoke into his radio, but Garrett couldn’t focus on the words. His uncle’s life was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Sirens sounded, and a moment later, paramedics streamed into the room.

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