Page 71 of Close Her Eyes

Her eyes slid shut. She heard Cyrus say, “Is she okay? She’s not making sense.”

Josie felt Anya’s warm palm against her cheek. “She’s exhausted. She’s also right. Garrick is Mathias Tobin’s biological father.”

Mettner said, “I don’t understand. What’s that got to do with the Hadlees?”

“Nothing,” said Noah.

Mettner added, “Also, Vance was the witness who exonerated Mathias. If the Hadlees were hell-bent on ruining Mathias’s life, why wouldn’t they let him rot in prison?”

Cyrus said, “Anya, how in the hell would you know that Mathias is Garrick’s son? Because Garrick said, ‘my son’ when you were patching him up at his house? He’d been stabbed four times.”

This was news to Josie, but Anya had prioritized sealing the sucking chest wound and by the time that was finished, Josie was chasing Mathias through the woods.

Anya said, “Before they took him into surgery, Garrick told me.”

Cyrus’s voice was angry. “You’re just telling me now that you were able to speak with him? The damn medical staff wouldn’t let us near him!”

Anya made a noise of frustration. “A lot has happened in the last twenty-four hours, Cy. Give me a break.”

Cyrus eased his tone. “Garrick told you Mathias Tobin is his son? Did he happen to mention who stabbed him?”

“He doesn’t know who it was,” Anya answered. “He said the person was dressed in black from head to toe with a balaclava covering their face. It happened so fast he couldn’t identify anything about them.”

Noah sighed. “Of course.”

Mettner said, “What else did Garrick tell you?”

“He said he’d had an affair. Mathias ended up in foster care. I don’t know why his mother couldn’t raise him. We didn’t have a chance to talk about that, but—” The sound of paper rustling reached Josie’s ears. Before she faded out, she heard Anya once more. “He wrote his last will and testament on the back of this nursing note in case he doesn’t make it. He left everything he owns to his son, Mathias Tobin.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Josie felt Noah’s fingers trail down her cheek. Emerging from sleep, she was first aware of how warm and comfortable she finally felt. Her feet touched Trout’s silky body. The scent of Noah’s aftershave stirred something in her. She opened her eyes to his face, backlit by the daylight streaming into the bedroom windows. A smile sent a pinching sensation through her forehead. She reached up to touch the stitches. They felt tight and hard, sore.

Noah said, “They look better than they feel, I’m sure.”

“They hurt,” Josie said. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Twelve hours,” he said.

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Slowly the memory came back to her. The confrontation with Mathias. Nearly falling off a cliff. The team finding her at dawn on Wednesday. The community hospital in Bly. The return home. Sleeping, eating, and finally, more sleeping.

She started to sit up, eliciting a groan from Trout. Her entire skull pounded like someone was playing a staccato beat against it. The rest of her body felt like a toothache. “I’m going to need some ibuprofen,” she told Noah. “And an update.”

He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with two pills. Josie sat all the way up and took them dry. Noah said, “Take your time. Anya’s here. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re up to it.”

A half hour later, Josie was beginning to feel human—though still sore all over—as she joined Noah and Anya in the kitchen. Trout followed her anxiously, staying near her feet. Noah handed her a cup of coffee already made just the way she liked it. “Trinity and Drake went out to brunch,” he said.

Josie sat down across from Anya. “Did you run into them before they left? Did Trinity bother you?”

Anya smiled. One of her thin hands curled around a coffee mug. “I can handle Trinity. I’m worried about you. I thought I’d stop by and see how you were feeling.”

“Like I got run off the road into a ditch and then later that night, almost fell off a cliff. I’m fine, Doc.” She took a sip of her coffee, a feeling of pleasure flooding her body. She glanced back at Noah, who stood with his hip leaned against the kitchen counter. “Did you tell Trinity that Dermot’s already out on bail?”

He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I sure did. She’s on the warpath now. She’s prepared to dig up anything she can to destroy him. I’m talking scorched earth.”

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