Page 65 of Shadowed Witness

His voice softened. “We’re going to figure this out. Trust me on that.”

“I hope so.”

“We will. I’ll call before I head your way, but it’ll probably be about nine or so.”

“Okay. ’Night.”

“Goodnight.”

She sat quietly with her phone in her hand after they hung up. Eric sounded so sure they’d get to the bottom of things, but what was it going to cost? The good guys didn’t always win. Not on earth anyway. Sometimes good people died.Please, God, don’t let that be the case for us. Keep the people I love safe. Help us make the right decisions, and help Eric catch these guys before anyone else gets hurt.

While Eric had given her good advice about trying to rest, she doubted there’d be much, if any, sleep for her tonight.

29

Allye had been rightabout not being able to sleep last night. She’d dozed off once or twice, but each time she’d jerked awake before logging more than a few minutes. Around 4:00 a.m., she’d finally given up and decided to at least attempt to get some work done instead.

Now it was nearing seven, and the exhaustion had caught up to her. Her eyes felt scratchy, and her head ... Well, she imagined it felt about the same as if she’d just listened to a concert from the middle of the trombone section—and got thunked with the slides every other stanza.

She massaged her forehead. Even with her screen set at minimum brightness, she couldn’t ignore the building misery any longer. Better take a dose of her migraine meds before her concert hit a crescendo.

Setting the laptop aside, she lowered the recliner’s footrest and stood. A prickle of nausea came with the motion. She may have waited too long already.

Halfway to the kitchen, she stopped. A groan escaped her. She couldn’t take her meds—the bottle was empty, as she’d discovered last night. Why hadn’t she paid more attention and gotten it refilled before she ran out? Maybe she could hold out long enoughto call it in and wait for the pharmacy to fill it, but she’d have to drive feeling like this.

Nothing to do for it. She pushed on into the kitchen and found the bottle where she’d left it last night. The tiny print on the label blurred in and out of focus. She closed her eyes and counted to thirty. When she opened them again, things were slightly clearer. Clear enough for her to read the “No refills” notation. This was not good.

She slumped into a chair and dialed the prescriber’s number. After navigating the automated system—she hated those things—and leaving a message, she lowered her head into her hands. The nausea was hitting harder now. She didn’t have time to wait for a callback.

As usual, dizziness hit as she rose, but she held on to the edge of the table until it eased. “Gotta move,” she mumbled. She made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through her medicine cabinet, looking for something stronger than ibuprofen. Her eye landed on a bottle of prescription pain pills hiding behind the cough syrup. Desperate, she pulled it out, then popped the lid and shook a tablet into her hand.

She stared at it, debating whether taking it was worth the aftereffects. These things tended to knock her out—one of the reasons she had so many pills left. Even with the broken wrist they’d been prescribed for several months ago, she’d preferred the residual ache after an ibuprofen to being painless but out of commission for hours on end and groggy afterward. She could half it, but taking it at all was still a risk.

Did she have a choice? The tablet swam in her hand, and she leaned against the counter as dizziness washed over her again. She’d had enough migraines lately to know that ibuprofen wasn’t going to touch this one, and acetaminophen wouldn’t be any better. If she didn’t get this thing under control, she’d be in bed for two or three days minimum, and she didn’t have time for that—especially not with the festival starting tomorrow.

It would be a while until Eric came by to pick her up. He’dtexted a bit ago to let her know he’d been called out to a scene and might be delayed. But even if he made it back by his original estimate, that gave her almost two hours to get past the drowsiness. That should be enough, right?

Before she could talk herself out of it, she split the tablet and dropped half back into the bottle. She popped the other into her mouth and quickly washed it down with water from the sink. On her way back to the living room, she dropped the bottle on the kitchen table and grabbed a sleeve of saltines. Inviting a whole other type of nausea by taking hydrocodone on an empty stomach wasn’t on her to-do list. She’d eat a few crackers, then try to sleep until Eric called.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Allye forced heavy eyelids open. What in the world?

The pounding came again. Her door shook with the force of the blows.

“Allye? Allye, open up.” Eric?

Grabbing her glasses, she lurched to her feet and stumbled to the door. She flipped the locks and pulled the door open. Instantly, his strong arms enveloped her.

“Eric? What’s wrong?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. What’s going on?”

He pulled back enough to look into her face. “No one could get ahold of you.”

“I was asleep.”

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