He kept his head down, wrapping my ankle with a bandage. “Just hit too hard, I guess.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” I asked.

He kept his head down but shook it. “Nah.”

“Weird,” I said.

“Lucky,” he said, still not looking up.

I was studying him. “If you hadn’t fallen right then, you would have won.”

“You don’t know that,” he said, head still down.

“Rookie,” I said then, lowering my voice. “Did you fall on purpose?”

He finished wrapping and taped it in place. Then he lifted his head and looked straight into my eyes—and I knew the answer.

“Rookie,” I said, gearing up to scold him.

But he leaned in. “There was no way in hell you were quitting the department today. Not if I had anything to say about it. You deserved to win, and you won. Now shut up.”

I could have kissed him.

I also could have argued. I could have insisted that he come clean to the guys. I could have demanded a do-over—at some future date when my ankle was healed.

I didn’t get a chance to do any of those things.

Before I had time to respond at all, my phone rang. It was in my bag across the room, but Six-Pack jogged it over to me.

It was Josie. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey. I’m sorry to call you at work.”

“It’s okay,” I said. Something was wrong.

“It’s about Diana,” Josie said. “She collapsed. Actually—that’s not right. She had a seizure.”

Twenty-two

SHE HAD A seizure.

Normally, a word like “seizure” would prompt my usual sense of calm-in-the-storm to kick in.

That’s not what happened this time.

I was always at my best in a crisis. But not today.

This time, kind of like when you see lightning flash, and then you hear a clap of thunder, panic flashed through my chest, and then I heard it in my voice. “What happened?”

“She was making breakfast, and the seizure hit. She fell to the floor, but she smacked her head on the counter as she went down.”

My brain was like a lightbulb with a short in it. “You called 911?”

“Yes. We’re already at the hospital. Rockport County.”

That counter was granite. “Does she have a concussion?”

“They’re assessing her now,” Josie said. “She has a bruise on her forehead the size of an apple.”

“Better to bruise on the outside than on the inside,” I said, to comfort her. And myself.

Josie was pretty flustered. “She was making French toast,” Josie said, her voice incredulous at the memory, “and then she froze for a second, and then she kind of snapped in half and dropped. It was so fast. And the sound of her head hitting that counter…” Josie made a sob-like noise. “I ran to her, but I didn’t know what to do. I’d never seen anything like it.”

“She’s lucky you were there,” I said. “How long did it last?”

“I don’t know,” Josie said. “Two minutes? Three? It felt like a thousand. Can you come?” she asked. “Right now?”

“Of course,” I said. “I’m on my way.”

Before I’d even pressed END, Owen was helping me to my feet. He knew something was up, but he didn’t ask. He handed me the crutches Tiny had found.

I moved toward the guys, who were all still gathered around the table. My whole body felt wobbly, but I forced it to work right, mind-over-matter style.

“Could I speak to you, Captain?” I asked.

The guys all fell silent. They recognized the sound of panic in my voice. They all turned to watch me.

The captain heard it, too. “Shoot,” he said.

“My mother’s had a seizure,” I said.

He nodded, all business. “Is she at Fairmont?”

“They’ve taken her to Rockport County.”

The captain nodded. “We’ve got you covered, Hanwell. Get your things, and we’ll call in somebody from B-shift.”

“Thank you,” I said.

As I hobbled away, getting my bearings with the crutches, the captain called out after me, “Hanwell!”

I turned back.

“Anything you need, anything at all … it’s yours.”

Then the captain told Case to give me an escort. And to use the lights and sirens.

* * *

AT THE HOSPITAL, Josie was waiting outside my mother’s room, nursing a paper cup of tea with the tag still hanging over the side.

“What happened to you?” she said, when she saw the crutches.

“Tiny sprain,” I said. “Don’t even feel it.”

I moved toward the closed door, but Josie whispered, “She’s sleeping now.”

“Any word on the assessment?” I asked.

Josie said, “No head injury that they can see.”

“That’s good,” I said, nodding in approval.

“They want to keep her overnight,” Josie said, “for observation.”

Josie looked shaken. Her expression had that intensity people get in emergencies—when every detail matters. It hadn’t been an easy few hours, and that kind of stress is never good for you, but when you’re just into your third trimester, it’s maybe a little worse.

The sight of her gave me an impulse that I gave in to: I volunteered for a hug for the first time in a decade. “You did great,” I said, wrapping my arms around her and giving a squeeze. “You did just fine.”

“I needed that,” she said when I let go.

I smiled. “I’m out of practice.”

“But talented.”

“Go home now,” I said then. “Get some rest. You’ve had a rough day so far.”

Josie nodded. “Not a big fan of hospitals.”

“I’ve got this,” I said, trying to sound way more at ease than I felt. “I do this for a living.”

Josie took my hand and held it, and then peered at me like she was making a decision. Then she said, “She turned around, you know.”

I frowned, thinking we were talking about the seizure. “She turned around?”

“On your birthday. The day she left. She drove for hours, crying the whole time, until finally, somewhere in Arkansas, she decided to turn around and go back. She couldn’t do it, she decided. She couldn’t leave. She pulled off at a truck stop, planning to get back on the interstate going south instead of north.

“Before she even finished at the pump, she got a call from Wallace. He was just checking in. Just saying hello. But the sound of his voice stopped her. She stood there for several minutes after they hung up. Then she called it: She couldn’t leave him to face it all alone.”

“And she kept going.”

Josie nodded. “He needed her.”

“I needed her,” I said, almost a whisper.

“But you had your dad. She told herself you’d be all right.”

My throat tightened. Oh God. What if she had turned around? What if she had showed back up at our house that night? Could my life have unfolded in a completely different way?