Page 79 of Murder in Calusa Cove
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The hospital waiting room was too sterile, too still. The buzz of overhead lights hummed in Chloe’s ears, filling the silence she’d been trying to drown out with bad coffee and clenched fists.
She sat on the edge of a cracked vinyl chair, elbows on her knees, palms pressed together. Across from her, Fedora sat wrapped in a gray blanket the nurse had given her, her hands folded neatly in her lap like she was holding herself together one finger at a time.
They hadn’t spoken much on the ride in.
They hadn’t needed to.
Now, in the quiet, Chloe finally exhaled. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
Fedora gave a small, brittle nod. “As okay as someone who was tied up in a shack by a serial killer can be.”
Chloe huffed a soft breath through her nose. “Fair.”
“I didn’t think… I mean, when I saw Dewey at the gas station, I didn’t think he was going to hurt me. He was so kind…so…calm. He leaned against my car while I was filling up my tank and told me that one of my tires looked low. Told me he’d be happy to check it for me. Next thing I knew, he was stuffing me in the back of his car. But even then, he was gentle…sort of. He spoke in an even tone. Like everything was just some tragic story he needed to tell.”
Chloe nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what it was for him. A story. One he thought he could control.”
“He said I reminded him of someone.” Fedora looked up. “I guess now I know who.”
Chloe met her gaze and saw pieces of herself staring back—different angles of the same face. “I don’t know what to say to that. I didn’t even know about him until earlier today. My parents kept that from me.”
Fedora gave a faint smile. “The man I always believed was my dad died when I was only five. I barely remember him, but he was a good man. I don’t understand why my mom lied to me.”
“I don’t have an answer for that either,” Chloe said softly. They sat in silence for a beat longer before Chloe cleared her throat. “Hayes saved your life tonight.”
Fedora’s lips trembled. “He got shot because of me.”
“He got shot because he doesn’t let people he loves get hurt.”
Fedora’s brows lifted slightly. “He loves you.”
Chloe didn’t answer right away. The word had hovered too close to her skin lately, aching to be acknowledged. “Yeah. He does. And I—I love him, too.” Her voice broke, just a little. “He’s the reason I didn’t fall apart these last few weeks.”
Fedora swallowed. “He was good to my mom, back when they were together. I was a teenager. Too young to get it, but I saw the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to be that man—the one who could stay. But he couldn’t. Not then.”
Chloe felt something tighten in her chest. “He’s different now.”
“He is. I’ve gotten to know him again over the last few years. He’s more settled. More grounded. That might have started before you, but you bring something else out in him. You’re good for him.”
“He’s good for me, too.” Chloe turned just as Betsy stepped through the waiting room doors. She looked drawn, her makeup smudged, but she moved with determination as she crossed the room. Fedora stood, and Betsy wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close like she might disappear.
“I came as soon as I could,” Betsy whispered, stroking Fedora’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I’m okay, Mom.” Fedora clung to her. “Really. Just…tired.”
Betsy’s eyes met Chloe’s over her daughter’s shoulder. There was no animosity. Just relief. And maybe a quiet understanding.
“Thank you,” Betsy said.
Chloe nodded. “I didn’t do it alone.”
“No, but you didn’t walk away, either.”
The doors at the far end of the waiting room hissed open, and all three women turned.
A doctor stepped in, his scrubs stained, but his expression calm.
