Page 35 of Dart to Me
“We need a medic!” Ellie shouts, moving to my side. “Now!”
Rick laughs from the floor, his face pressed against rough boards. “Always the hero, aren’t you? Saving her from the big bad wolf.” His eyes find mine, cold and calculating even in defeat. “But she’ll never be yours. Not really. I’m inside her head forever.”
“Shut up,” the officer growls, hauling him to his feet.
As they drag Rick toward the door, he calls over his shoulder, “This isn’t over, Ellie! Not by a long shot!”
An officer guides me to sit, examining my arm. “That’s going to need stitches, but you’ll live. Ambulance is two minutes out.”
Miles, finally free of his restraints, rubs his raw wrists. There’s a moment of awkward silence as he looks between Ellie and me, reality settling in. His ex-wife and her new boyfriend just risked their lives for him.
“Thank you,” he says finally, voice hoarse. “Both of you.”
Ellie nods stiffly. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“Just my pride,” Miles answers, with a weak attempt at humor. “And my head. Bastard got me from behind.”
The paramedics arrive in a flurry of activity. One attends to my arm, cleaning and bandaging it temporarily, while another checks Miles’s head wound. Ellie hovers between us, torn, until I catch her hand.
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “Really.”
She squeezes my fingers, tears welling in her eyes. “This is my fault. All of it.”
“No,” I say. “This is Rick’s fault. Only Rick’s.”
The aftermath feels like a blur. The ride to the hospital, the stitches in my arm, the endless questions from detectives. Through it all, Ellie stays by my side, her hand rarely leaving mine except when the medical staff forces her away. Even then, her eyes remain fixed on me from across the room, as if I might disappear if she looks away for too long.
Miles is treated in a different room, his head injury requiring observation overnight. I’m released after four hours, twelve stitches, and a tetanus shot. The detective who takes our statements assures us that Rick won’t be getting out anytime soon—violating parole with kidnapping and assault guarantees that.
“He’ll be put away for a long time,” the detective says, closing his notepad. “But I’d recommend a restraining order anyway, for when he eventually does get out.”
Ellie nods, but I can see the fear hasn’t left her. The knowledge that someday, Rick will be free again.
The drive home is quiet. Ellie stares out the passenger window, lost in thought, while I navigate one-handed, my other arm throbbing despite the painkillers.
“You could have died today.”
“So could you,” I reply, glancing at her. “So could Miles.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
She turns to me, her expression haunted. “Rick was after me. You and Miles were just... collateral damage in his twisted game.”
I pull into my driveway and shut off the engine, turning to face her. “Listen to me. Rick is a predator. Predators isolatetheir prey—that’s what he wanted. To make you feel alone, responsible. Don’t let him win by believing that.”
Her eyes well with tears. “But he was right about one thing. I do have blood on my hands.”
“No, you don’t,” I say firmly. “You’ve been defending yourself from a stalker. Everything that’s happened is because of his choices, not yours.”
She looks down at her hands, studying them as if she might actually see blood there. “When I reported him for harassment two years ago, I never imagined it would lead to this. The company audit that uncovered his embezzlement, his prison sentence... he lost everything.”
“He lost everything because he was a criminal,” I remind her. “Not because you stood up for yourself.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the events of the day settling around us like dust after an explosion.
“I need to check on Miles tomorrow,” she says eventually.
