Page 103 of Distress Signal
Matted in bright blonde hair.
Broken glass nearby.
“Aria!”
“Finn?”
Not my sister’s voice, but one of my brother’s.
“Trey. Clear the rest of the house. I’ve got Aria.”
He muttered something to someone else, and I heard a deep voice respond. Crew, I realized.
Not wanting to move her for fear of making things worse, I knelt at Aria’s side, dialing nine-one-one as I pressed my shaky fingers to her wrist, checking for a pulse.
I gasped in relief when it thumped, weakened but there, against my touch.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
As calmly as I could, I explained the situation, relayed my address, and told them tofucking hurrybefore I hung up.
Crew rounded into the kitchen to find me still on the floor at Aria’s side, her chilled hand clasped in mine. He knelt at her opposite side, careful to avoid the blood, and checked for a pulse exactly as I had. I let him without comment, both because I understood the compulsion and because he had paramedic training.
Sliding on some nitrile gloves, he gently probed her skull, his fingertips coming away stained.
“There’s a contusion there. Head wounds always bleed a scary amount,” he explained. “As long as there isn’t internal bleeding, she should be okay.”
Trey joined us then.
“House is clear. Looks like point of entry was the front door.” His tone was flat, likely trying to distance himself from the scene until we had more information.
The same could not be said for the emotions swirling within me, coalescing into a dangerous tornado one second away from touching down and tearing this entire fucking world apart in search of who had done this to my baby sister.
“Call West,” I said. “He’s at my house with Reagan.”
Trey nodded and stepped away, and I heard the front screen door open and close a moment later.
As gently as I could, I brushed my hand over my sister’s head, a comforting gesture surely meant more for myself than her.
“Your house is secure,” Trey said a moment later, phone still pressed against his ear. “What do you want West to do?”
“Stay there. I’m not leaving Aria, but I can’t?—”
Trey nodded in understanding.
I couldn’t focus on the task at hand if Reagan was vulnerable, and the only person I trusted with her right now was my twin.
Hours seemed to have passed before sirens distantly cut through the night, gathering steam as they got closer to the house. At last, the cavalry pulled up outside.
Lane led the charge, the ambulance and a few more sheriff’s vehicles close behind. Throwing himself out of his SUV, Lane stomped up the porch steps, but Trey cut him off at the top.
“What the fuck?” Lane asked, trying to push past our older brother.
Ignoring him, Crew shouted, “Rausch?”
“Here!” came Sutton’s reply a moment before she appeared in the glow of the porch lights. “What’ve we got?”
“Twenty-four-year-old female,” I said, joining the conversation, offering details in a detached sort of way. “She’s in the kitchen. Appears to have suffered blunt trauma to the skull. There’s…a lot of blood.”
