Page 32 of Save Me

He manages a thin, flat laugh. “For what? I will not get better, Ash.” I don’t want to agitate him, so I nod and stay silent. “Chris?”

Chris, who appears to have been waiting for this signal from Oliver, digs into her pocket and pulls out a small laminated card, then hands it to me. “I’ll just wait outside the door and give you two a moment. Come get me if you need something.” She smiles at us and excuses herself.

I examine the card. It has a string of numbers on one side and a phone number on the other. “You’ll need money. It’s in the Caymans. Offshore.” There’s a prolonged silence. I glance up, instantly worried, but Oliver seems to have been waiting for my attention, nothing more. “Wherever you go, open a bank account in your new name. Transfer the funds. It’s all arranged.”

I’m stunned. “Oliver, I can’t.” It isn’t my money, it’s Oliver’s.

“Why not? I’m not going to use it. Father surely isn’t.” The rattle in his breathing is getting louder, and it worries me. “It will go to the government, and none of us want that.” Oliver smiles wanly. “Use it to start a new life, Ash.”

I want to do something, anything, but I don’t know what would help. “Can I get you anything?”

“No.” Oliver closes his eyes and sighs. “I love you, Ash. I’m glad you came.”

“I love you too, Oliver. I’m glad I did too.”

“Stay for a bit?” Oliver’s breathing evens out and he squeezes my hand harder than before.

I sniff and wipe my eyes with the heel of my free hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” Cartel be damned, I’m staying right here. Nothing could make me leave now. I bite my lip hard, hoping the pain will keep me from sobbing, and caress Oliver’s hair, now baby fine and thinning where it used to be thick and wavy. “I’m right here, Oliver.” We sit quietly, as if we’re the only two people left in the world, the silence broken periodically by his haunting breaths.

“Ash?” I startle when he speaks, my mind having wandered, and I’m unsure how much time has passed.

“I’m here, Oliver.”

He smiles feebly and lightly squeezes my hand, then takes a deep breath and exhales. I watch him quietly, waiting for his next inhalation, but it never comes. The room is completely silent. His grip on my hand slackens, and dread clenches my heart. I hold my breath until my lungs burn, straining to hear any sound from him. Any sound at all. But the room is eerily still.

I ignore the prickling behind my eyes and gently press my fingertips to the side of his neck, feeling for a pulse, but there is none. A lump forms in my throat, and my hand shakes as I place a cupped palm near Oliver’s mouth and nose. There is no exhalation of air.

I stifle a sob, but let the tears fall as I kiss the back of Oliver’s hand and place it against my cheek. “It’s alright, darling. Rest now.” This is the last time I’ll have to say goodbye to him. “I’m sure your mother is waiting for you with open arms.” I stand and set Oliver’s hand gently on the bed, caressing his cheek one more time before heading for the door.

When Chris sees my face, hers falls as well. She nods and moves past me into the room, verifying what we both know. In the few moments she takes to recross the room to my side, I pull myself together. She rubs her hand up and down my arm in a kind but inadequate attempt to offer comfort. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ashley.”

I nod and open my mouth to thank her for everything she’s done for Oliver, but I’m interrupted by a loud splintering of wood echoing through the downstairs. I turn her toward Oliver’s room and push her inside. “Chris, I’m so sorry. Stay in here and hopefully you’ll be safe.” She looks terrified, but there’s nothing I can do for her. Remaining with her might be more dangerous than leaving her alone. I shut the door behind me and turn toward the steps as loud popping noises come from outside. I glance over the railing toward the kitchen and a person dressed from head to toe in black steps into the foyer. Before I can react, they point a gun at my chest, and a surreal calmness settles over me. I know with the certainty of an odds-maker that I will not be lucky enough to walk away from a loaded weapon pointed at me for a second time.

The gun fires and wait for the pain, stunned when it never happens. I’m definitely not expecting to watch the assassin crumple to the floor. I freeze in place, unsure if it’s better to go back into the room or continue down the stairs and out the front door. I’m still standing in the middle of the landing when a familiar figure steps over the fallen body and looks up at me. “Ashley, come on. We need to get you out of here.”

His gruff tone jolts me out of my stasis. “Deputy Marshal Brown.” Duncan. Jamie’s partner. My stomach twists as I think about how I left Jamie, and all I’ve given up to be with Oliver in his final moments. “I’m very glad to see you, but how is it you’re here?” I hurry down the stairs.

“Once Oliver came back home, we assumed that the cartel would watch the house, waiting to see if you’d show up. The Marshals put agents on surveillance in case something went down.” His mouth twists in disgust. “Which it did.”

“How depressing, to be so predictable.” I’m beyond exhausted right now, and self-deprecating humor is safer than lashing out with snark. Someone should be proud of me for this.

“Well, good thing you are, or they wouldn’t have been here in time.” I hit the last step, and Duncan motions for me to follow.

“They? You weren’t here?” I trust Duncan because of our history, and because Jamie trusts him, so I follow without question. That doesn’t mean I’m not curious.

“Jamie called me after you took off. Asked me to make sure you were safe.” I stumble to a stop, but Duncan keeps walking toward the Land Rover. He opens the passenger side door and waves me in. “Come on. I’m assuming you have the keys.”

I lurch forward and climb into the passenger seat, still half dazed, digging the keys out of my pocket and handing them over. “Oliver’s gone.” Then I remember Chris. “Wait, there’s a hospice worker still inside! Her name is Chris, and she’s upstairs in Oliver’s room.” What if I’ve endangered her as well?

Duncan nods. “Yeah, the other agents were aware of her. They’ll ensure she’s safe.”

I slouch back against the seat as the adrenaline fades. “Where are we going?”

“Jamie’s.” Duncan jogs around to the driver’s side, gets in and starts the engine. We pull down the driveway and through the now open gate, heading away from the Laszlo estate. Two blocks later we pass several police cars going in the opposite direction and I’m glad I don’t have to deal with them. I do have to deal with Jamie. And I’m terrified.

Duncan and I say little to each other on the forty-minute drive, but there are several conversations happening in my head, all of which revolve around Jamie’s possible reactions and what my response should be.

By the time we pull up in front of a nondescript single-story house, the sky is just lightening, and I can barely keep my eyes open. Duncan pulls down a narrow drive, puts the car in park, and nudges me. “C’mon. We’re here.” I get out slowly, dread growing with every step down the small garden path. Duncan knocks briefly, then opens the front door and goes in. I take a deep breath and follow.

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