Page 32 of When You're Broken
There was silence on the other end.
“McNeill?”Finn asked.
“Finn,” McNeill said, his voice grave.“Yes.Please send that, I’ll get that sorted.”
"What's the matter?You sound like someone's died?"Finn joked.
There was another silence before McNeill uttered words Finn could not quite believe.
“Finn.Rob Collins has been shot.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Finn pushed through the heavy double doors of the hospital ward, a swirl of antiseptic odor hitting him as fluorescent lights gleamed on polished linoleum floors.He and Amelia had almost sprinted through the corridors—he half out of breath from the adrenaline, she radiating tension that coiled across every line of her body.Now, at the threshold, two uniformed constables stood at attention, each nodding somberly as they recognized them.
“Is this Rob Collins’s room?”Finn asked, short on air.
The nearest constable, a stocky man with clipped hair, responded quietly, “Yes, sir.We’ve been instructed to keep watch.”He glanced at his partner, a woman with kind eyes who bowed her head in respect.
Amelia touched Finn’s shoulder as they pushed the door open and entered the private room.Inside, everything seemed too quiet.A single bed occupied the center, monitors beeping in subdued patterns.A tall, rolling IV stand hung with translucent bags, their tubes snaking into the man who lay unmoving under the crisp white sheets: Rob Collins, the longtime friend who’d pulled Finn through college scrapes and had formed with him the easy camaraderie of a decade’s trust.
Now, Rob lay motionless—an oxygen mask strapped over his mouth, a swath of bandages taped around his abdomen.With the monitors relaying heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels, the air thickened with quiet dread.The overhead fluorescent hummed, the only competing sound was a slow, rhythmic beep from one of the machines.It was an unnerving, fragile lullaby.
In a plastic chair beside the bed, Eleanor Matthews sat with her back hunched forward, her hand clasping Rob’s.Her blonde hair fell over her face, and she slowly looked up at the sound of Finn and Amelia stepping in.Fatigue and sorrow lined her features.She seemed startled to see them, but relief flickered in her eyes, like a candle’s faint glow in the dark.
“Eleanor,” Finn whispered, approaching with measured steps.“We came as soon as we heard.”
Eleanor swallowed, tears threatening to break loose.“He’s in a coma, the doctors said.He—He lost so much blood, and the bullet tore through… it’s all complicated.They don’t know if he’ll make it.”Her voice cracked on the last words.
Finn felt his chest clench, grief and anger warring within him.Rob, battered and comatose, was nearly unrecognizable under the medical gear.This shouldn’t be happening.He forced composure for Eleanor’s sake.“I’m so sorry,” he managed, hand trembling as he reached for Rob’s free hand.The man was warm to the touch but unresponsive, eyes closed behind taped eyelids.
Amelia stood on the other side of the bed, near the IV stand.She brushed her own tears away, her voice quieter than usual.“Do the doctors have any timeline for his recovery?”
Eleanor shook her head.“They said it’s hour by hour right now… that next few days are critical.If he stabilizes, maybe… But they just don’t know.He’s lost so much blood.”She drew in a shaky breath, tears slipping down her cheeks.“It all happened so fast.Wendell, he showed up out of nowhere.He tied me up, threatened me with a gun—forced me to lure Rob back.Then he… he shot him, left him bleeding on the kitchen floor.I thought—I thought he was dead.”Her voice caught in a sob.
Amelia circled around, gently resting a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder.“You must have been terrified.I’m so sorry.I can’t imagine what you went through.”
Eleanor nodded, blinking away tears.“I managed to get out of my wrist binds after Wendell left.God, my hands still feel raw.Then I called for an ambulance… R-Rob was unconscious...”Her sentence trailed into quiet weeping.
Finn closed his eyes, pressing Rob’s limp hand gently.The beep of the heart monitor pulsed in tandem with the ache building behind Finn’s ribs.
Amelia’s expression hardened, tears giving way to the steely focus that spoke of her unrelenting vow.“We’ll catch Wendell,” she vowed, voice tinged with the fury of her own grief.“He won’t get away with this.”
Finn felt something within him fracture.He let go of Rob’s hand, stepping back, a tremble sneaking into his posture.“We can’t lose him, Amelia,” he whispered.“We’ve been friends for a decade.He’s my best friend.”The memory of their college days, nights spent planning the future, wrestled with the stark hospital gloom.He remembered being in a similar room before, several times in his life.Watching his mother fade.His grandfather.A partner from the FBI, too.And now this.
A swirl of rage flared in him, fueling a desperate desire to act.“Amelia,” he said, turning to face her, voice low and intense, “this is proof that Wendell’s unstoppable right now.He’ll do anything to get to you, or me, or whoever he wants to hurt.You can’t keep giving him targets.Please, you have to go into hiding.”His voice cracked with the sheer force of the plea.“Let me handle this.I’ll find Reed myself.”
Her eyes widened, shock and frustration mingling.She drew closer, keeping her volume measured for Eleanor’s sake.“Don’t say that.I’m not leaving you.And we’re in this as partners, remember?”
He clenched his jaw.“Partners, yes, but… you’re the center of his crosshairs.With you safe, I can hunt him down with no fear of him using you as leverage.”He lowered his tone further, stepping out of earshot of Eleanor, who gazed at them with exhausted helplessness.“Look at what just happened to Rob.That could be you next.I can’t let that happen, Amelia.”The drive in his words was close to desperation.
“But, my brother...”
Before she could respond further, the door to the hospital room opened.Inspector McNeill entered, footsteps subdued on the sterile floor.He looked from Eleanor to Finn and Amelia with a grim expression.“We have something,” he began quietly, pulling a plastic evidence bag from his coat.“This was left at Rob’s house, presumably for Amelia.”The enveloped item, a small manila envelope, was smeared in dark stains—Rob’s blood, no doubt.
Amelia stared at it, anger rising anew.“What’s inside?”
McNeill extended the bag.“Photos.Of Finn, of your cottage, your daily routes.Like Wendell’s letting you know he’s got eyes on both of you.”He paused, letting the weight sink in.“We need to talk.”
