Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Good man. Keep her safe.
Brooks replied.
Always
He meant it.
NINETEEN
vivienne
Morning light hurt.
Vivienne opened her eyes to sunlight streaming through hospital blinds. Her head throbbed. Her ribs ached with each breath. The IV pulled when she tried to move.
Brooks sat in the chair beside her bed, asleep with his head tilted at an angle that would leave his neck stiff. Someone must have brought him clothes—he’d changed his shirt—but he hadn’t shaved, and exhaustion lined his face.
He’d stayed all night. She could feel the echo of his presence from the hours she’d been unconscious, that new connection between them humming in the background of her awareness.
A nurse entered. “You’re awake. How’s the pain?”
“Manageable.” Vivienne’s voice came out rough. “What time is it?”
“Just past eight. You’ve been out for about five hours.” The nurse checked the IV, made notes on a tablet. “The doctor wants to keep you until this afternoon for observation. Concussion protocol. But everything looks good.”
Brooks stirred, his eyes opening. He straightened when he saw Vivienne awake.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” She tried to smile, but her split lip protested. “You look terrible.”
“Right back at you.” His expression softened. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I went ten rounds with a lighthouse.”
The nurse finished her checks and left, promising the doctor would be by soon. Silence settled over the room.
“Dawn was here,” Brooks said. “She stayed for a few hours, then went to open The Mystic Cup for you. Said she’d handle things until you’re back on your feet.”
“She talked to you.”
“She did.” Brooks’s mouth quirked. “Gave me a fairly comprehensive lecture about not making things worse for you. She’s protective.”
“We are all we have. We are important to each other.” Vivienne shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t make her ribs scream.
“I’ll be careful,” Brooks said. “Can we talk about last night?”
Vivienne nodded.
“I’m not trying to define what happened. I just know things are different now.”
“They are.” Vivienne was quiet for a moment. “Thank you. For coming for me.”
“Always.” His voice was steady.
A knock interrupted them. Agent Porter entered, dressed in a fresh suit despite the early hour. Behind her came Chief Sullivan, carrying coffee.
“Ms. Hawthorne. Good to see you awake.” Porter pulled up a second chair. “I know you’re recovering, but I need to ask you some questions about last night. Specifically about the shooting in the lamp room.”
Vivienne glanced at Brooks. He gave a slight nod.
“Walk me through the final moments,” Porter said. “From when Detective Harrington entered the lamp room until Winston Aldrich was disarmed.”
Vivienne chose her words with care. She described Winston’s positioning, the gun at her temple, the way Brooks had assessed the situation when he came through the door.
“Winston was threatening to kill us both. I knew I had to create an opening.”
“And Detective Harrington shot Winston Aldrich at the exact moment you threw yourself clear of the weapon. That’s remarkable timing for a hostage situation.”
“I signaled with my eyes where I was going to move,” Vivienne said. “Brooks was watching for it.”
Porter turned to Brooks. “Detective Harrington, walk me through your decision to shoot.”
“Winston had the gun to her head. I assessed angles and positioning. When Vivienne moved, I had a clear shot and took it.”
Porter made notes. “The coordination was precise. No hesitation on either side.”
“We’ve been working together for weeks,” Brooks said. “You develop trust.”
Porter studied them both for a moment, then closed her notebook. “The shooting is justified. Self-defense and defense of a hostage. Winston’s attorney won’t be able to argue otherwise.” She stood. “I’ll need formal statements from both of you once you’re released, but this preliminary account is sufficient.”
“That’s it?” Vivienne asked.
“That’s it. You did everything right, Ms. Hawthorne. Stayed calm, created an opportunity, trusted your partner.” Porter’s expression softened slightly. “Most hostages panic. You kept your head.”
“I had reason to trust Brooks would be ready.”
Porter nodded. “That trust saved both your lives.”
After Porter left, Sullivan approached the bed. “Vivienne, I owe you an apology. When Brooks first started working with you, I discouraged it. Thought you were either a fraud or a liability. I was wrong.”
“You were trying to protect him.”
“I was trying to protect myself from having to admit that there are things in this world I don’t understand.” Sullivan’s weathered face showed respect. “You’ve done more for this town in three weeks than I did in twenty years. You made me see what I didn’t want to see.”
“The town will need time to process this. The Aldrich family was part of Westerly Cove for generations.”
“Some folks are already calling it good riddance. Others are in denial. But most people are just relieved. The Aldriches cast a long shadow. Now that they’re gone, maybe we can finally breathe.”
After Sullivan left, Brooks helped Vivienne sit up enough to drink water. Her throat was raw, her voice still scratchy.
“What Dawn said last night,” Vivienne started. “She wasn’t subtle.”