Page 142 of Wasted
Warren hit the gas. The tires slipped in the snow. Maybe he wouldn’t get traction.
“Warren, stop! At least call a doctor!”
The van moved forward again, finding a grip in the snow.
Cillian grabbed the side mirror and the door handle, hefting himself onto the running board to ride along.
But that wouldn’t help Vicks. He couldn’t leave her there. And he might never be able to find her again.
The van picked up speed.
Cillian let go. Dropped to the ground.
He spun back.
Oh, no.
The thick snow blocked his vision. He couldn’t see her.
“Vicks!” He jogged in the direction she must be. Where he thought he’d come from. “Vicks! Answer me!” He stopped. Listened.
The howling wind answered.
No. What had he done?
Why had he pushed her into this? Why had he made her investigate killers and suspects and antagonize the police? If he hadn’t, Warren wouldn’t have dragged her out here to…
Cillian’s hand went to his head as horror steamrolled through him. He pivoted in every direction, desperately searching the white darkness for some glimpse of her.
Of the woman he loved. The woman he’d tried to save. The woman he’d led to her death.
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
She’d never wanted any of this.
Cillian trudged through the snow, scanning the white wall that shifted around him as it blew. Almost seemed pointless, trying to find Victoria in this storm. But he had to try. He owed her that much.
She hadn’t wanted to keep looking for Thomas’s killer, to insist the police listen to her, to keep chasing down new suspects and leads. She hadn’t wanted to do any of the things that had made Warren target her.
And when he had started the threats—the shooting, trying to run her over—she had wanted to quit.
“I said that’s enough. We have to stop.” The memory of Victoria at the pregnancy center, when Cillian had walked in after his bike crashed, hit him with a pang behind the ribs. “We need to stop investigating and trying to find the killer. This has gotten far too dangerous.”
What was it she’d said after that? This wasn’t an adventure involving only him.
“You need to think, to consider how your actions will affect others.”
And he’d ignored her. Told her that’s why she’d needed to wait for him so he could keep her safe.
“Cillian, you aren’t listening.”
“I am listening. I’m going to make sure you’re safe until this guy is locked up, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
If he could eat his own words now, if that would somehow help, he would in a heartbeat. What a dolt he was. What a jerk, not listening and forcing her to do what he wanted when he knew she didn’t agree, when he knew she thought it was too dangerous.
Oh, no. His thoughts echoed back to him, and he heard them more clearly. Saw himself for the first time.
