Page 29 of The Grave Between Us
Cole listened the whole time, not speaking, not flinching, not moving. Barely even breathing. He waited, holding Ingram’s stare, taking in every word Ingram gave him. Ingram watched him as intently as Cole watched him, waiting for the revulsion, the terror to rise within Cole, for him to turn away in disgust. Ingram wanted that, the raw stink of Cole’s horror.
So Cole kept it from him. He was stone, ice, untouched by the black waters of Ingram’s foul ocean that rose like a tsunami, coming for Cole’s shores.
In the end, Ingram sank back in his seat with a satisfied sigh as he rubbed his hands on his thighs. There was a damp spot on his jumpsuit between his legs. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.”
Cole stood and stretched. Rolled his neck. Forced himself to yawn. The coffee he’d drunk hours earlier was sloshing, rioting against the bile crawling up his throat. He shot Ingram a half smile as he headed for the door. He held Ingram’s stare as he had through the entire confession, all the way until he closed the door behind himself.
He took one step and collapsed, falling to his hands and knees on the thin carpet of the hallway. He pitched forward, his forehead hitting the ground, digging into the fibers as he squeezed his eyes shut. Hands appeared on his biceps, his shoulders, guiding him sideways, helping him lean against the wall and shift to sit on the floor. He heard voices like he was underwater. The lights were too bright, the air too hot and too cold all at the same time. His clothes felt like barbed wire. Ingram’s breath was on him, his words like oil that coated Cole’s skin, slid over him like snakes, crawled up his nose and into his mouth, slithered down his throat.
“Here, Kennedy.” Hillary’s roughened burr broke through first, along with a hard squeeze on his shoulder. He blinked, and a water bottle appeared in front of him, uncapped. He took it and spilled half all over the carpet between his knees. Hillary helped him lift the plastic bottle to his lips.
“Thanks,” he croaked.
“That’s enough from that son of a bitch for today. C’mon, let’s get you up.” Hillary helped him to his feet, holding on to both of Cole’s elbows as Cole swayed. “The marshals will be back to get him out of here. You and I, we’re going to get a drink.”
Chapter Nine
It washours before Noah and Cole were alone again and able to talk. First the doctor came, checking Noah’s wound and his bandage, making him breathe in and out and cough. Making him stand and taking his blood pressure and pulse. Cole watched, feeling a fraction of his tension begin to ebb as he drank in the sight of Noah awake and moving around, still pale but looking more like himself. He texted Katie as Noah was finishing with the doctor, and twenty seconds later, Katie blew up Noah’s cell phone, nonstop ringing until Noah answered on speaker. Katie was crying, gulping her way through telling Noah how much she loved him. Noah managed to refocus her attention by asking about school and cheer and the upcoming dance.
Katie had to get back to class, and right as she hung up, Sophie burst into Noah’s room, grinning as she held out her arms and wrapped him up in a gentle hug. She gave Cole a long, lingering stare over Noah’s shoulder as she did, one eyebrow arched almost to her hairline. Cole shook his head. Sophie pursed her lips.
Sophie knew how to manage a conversation, and she spent ten minutes chattering at Noah about Dale and Miya and Megan and the rest of the office without once venturing anywhere close to the shooting. Noah, still clearly riding the ebb tide of sedatives, followed her lead, his gaze going soft as her lilting voice filled the room. He held Cole’s hand and relaxed against his pillows.
Jacob lumbered down the hallway in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Shaquille O’Neal. He looked even more misshapen than before, his half-shaved head throwing his lumpy features into even sharper relief. He was smiling, though, and he didn’t look as haunted as he had when Cole had seen him with Sophie, shortly after he’d swum out of the darkness and realized he’d been a millimeter away from gone forever. He sat in the chair across from Cole at Noah’s bedside, Sophie leaning against Jacob’s chair arm. The first thing he said to Noah was, “Holly and I are engaged.”
“Congratulations,” Noah said. He smiled and squeezed Cole’s hand, his fingers finding Cole’s ring. “I knew she’d say yes.”
Jacob beamed. He looked like a child’s drawing of Mr. Potato Head. “Actually, Holly pulled a Cole. She asked me. Man, now I know why it’s always a waterworks factory when a man pulls out that ring. I’ve never been that happy in my life. Nothing even comes close.”
Noah’s grip tightened. “I know what you mean.”
Sophie made a joke about how they should have a double wedding and split the cost, and that led to a long and short conversation on Jacob’s and Noah’s thoughts for their weddings. Long on Jacob’s part—he, it turned out, had imagined marrying Holly for the past several months, and he had the church service drawn out perfectly in his mind. He could picture Holly in her white wedding gown, Brianna as their flower girl. He saw daisies in Brianna’s hair and sunflowers in Holly’s hands, and he’d imagined the priest saying “You may now kiss the bride” so many times it was almost a movie in his mind. The whole time he spoke, he was smiling ear to ear, gazing into the distance like he was watching the ceremony play out in front of him, a dream that wanted to be a memory. Even Sophie smiled, and she ruffled the half of Jacob’s hair that was left, hugging her cheek to his shorn head when he was finished.
Noah’s contribution to the conversation was shorter. “Uh, we’re still talking about things,” he stammered.
Noah was rescued when the police chiefs of Des Moines and West Des Moines knocked on his door to say hello and wish him well. Sheriff Clarke arrived a few minutes later, and he tipped his Stetson as he stood at the foot of Noah’s bed. Noah was quietly popular in the small, tight-knit law enforcement community in Des Moines. He was visibly embarrassed by the outpouring of support, and Cole watched him fumble for what to say, how to thank the men he called colleagues and who had never once blinked when he went from married to Lilly to divorced to openly gay and dating Cole. Noah had said maybe ten people he knew would come to their wedding, but as Cole watched a small parade of chiefs and sheriffs and deputies and police officers file in and out of Noah’s hospital room, he started adding to that number.
Finally, a nurse came and bustled everyone out. Jacob kissed the top of Noah’s head and left with Sophie, and the other visitors all said their goodbyes as well. Cole waited as the nurse checked Noah from head to toe, and then, finally, they were alone.
Noah scooted over on the bed, making room for Cole to climb in beside him. He sagged against Cole, laying his head on Cole’s chest as he laced their fingers together. “Put the Do Not Disturb sign out,” he said. “No more visitors.”
Cole kissed Noah’s forehead, stroking Noah’s hair. “You’re more popular than you realize.” He wrapped his arm around Noah’s shoulder and squeezed him close. He felt Noah’s heartbeat against his chest, felt Noah’s warmth seep through his shirt, into his skin.Alive. Here.
Noah was quiet. “Why was your old boss here asking me questions?”
It took every ounce of control he’d developed over the long years in the BAU not to react. To keep from gathering Noah in his arms and running as far as he could, somewhere there was no Michael King or Ian Ingram or monsters from his past. He kept sliding his fingers through Noah’s hair. Breathed Noah in and held on to his scent before he spoke. “What do you remember about what happened?”
It was a classic interrogator’s move, answering a question with a question. It was also a reflex for Cole, when he didn’t want to answer what he’d been asked. Noah had called him out on it more than once. This time, he seemed to let it slide.
“Not much. The glass breaking. I remember seeing Jacob bleeding. I jerked the wheel…” Noah frowned. “It’s fuzzy. Everything fades out. It feels more like I’m watching something happen to someone else. It doesn’t even feel like a memory.”
“That’s good.” Cole stroked Noah’s arm. Squeezed his hand. “That’s for the best. You’re going to be all right. You and Jacob. It’s okay if you don’t remember anything.”
“Not if that means whoever shot us gets away.” Noah must have felt him stiffen. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
Cole closed his eyes.This isn’t real. None of this is real. Open your eyes and wake up.He opened his eyes. He was still in Noah’s hospital room, listening to Noah’s heart monitor and the soft hiss of oxygen. He licked his lips and bit down on the lower one. “They—Michael and the FBI—think they know who shot you and Jacob.”
Noah went still.
