He turned back toward the chessboard. Two new players had started a fresh game. Watching seemed the safest option. Nick headed back across the room. He stepped aside as an inmate exited a row between tables. The man passed close. Too close, Nick realized, but it was too late to get out of the way.

The man’s shoulder bumped Nick’s, and the rest played out in slow motion. A quick twist of the orange-clad body. The sharp sting of a blade sliding into Nick’s belly. A second and third hot slice of agony as the man punched the weapon into Nick’s gut again and again. The instinctive response to cover the wounds, to keep his insides from gushing out. The hot rush of blood between his fingers.

No one came to help. Orange bodies slunk backward, unsure of the situation.

Unwilling to get involved.

An alarm blared. It sounded far away, muted by the throb of Nick’s pulse in his ears. Cold swept over him, in him. He dropped to his knees.

The door burst open. Feet pounded on concrete. Men shouted. Nick fell sideways, his shoulder hitting the concrete.

Hands rolled him to his back and moved his hands from the wounds.

Pressure.

He blinked at the ceiling. Fluorescent lights blurred and dimmed as shadows leaned over him. He knew they were guards by their shape and voices.

More shoes beat on cement.

Someone grabbed Nick’s chin. “Stay with me.”

But he couldn’t. He drifted. Sounds and light faded. His heartbeat slowed. Pain consumed him, and the darkness that followed was a relief.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Morgan sailed out of the municipal building, her step brisk, her mind whirling. “I can’t wait to tell Nick tomorrow. We finally have a break in his case. I’ll stop by Bud’s house and give him the good news tonight. He needs some encouragement.”

Nick’s dad needed hope, and she couldn’t wait to give it to him.

“I wouldn’t build his hopes up too much.” Lance fell into step beside her on the sidewalk. Since they’d gotten word of Voss’s escape, Lance hadn’t stopped scanning their surroundings. “This won’t mean much until the DNA test comes back.”

At six thirty in the evening, the visitors’ lot was mostly empty.

“It’ll mean one of the prosecution’s key witnesses lied, and the video with Nick fighting Jacob just took on a whole new meaning. Nick’s account looks a lot more truthful than Jacob’s now. Bryce might not want to admit it, but between those photos and Voss’s camp near the murder site, I can poke a hundred holes in his case against Nick.” At the end of the walk, Morgan stepped off the curb. “Bryce relied on an abundance of physical evidence without the due diligence of making sure there wasn’t an alternate explanation for it.”

Her phone rang as they reached the Jeep. Bud’s name was displayed on the screen. Morgan answered the call. “Hi Bud. I was just going to call—”

“Morgan.” Bud’s voice was hoarse. “I just got a call from the jail. Nick’s been stabbed.”

Morgan froze. “What?”

“Stabbed,” Bud said. “By another prisoner. That’s all I know. I’m on my way to the hospital.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Numb, she lowered the phone and explained. “We need to go to the hospital.”

Lance opened the passenger door for her. “Let’s go.”

The ride passed in a blur of landscape. “This isn’t right. It’s not fair. Nick was locked up with hardened criminals because he didn’t have enough money for bail and a defense. He had to choose.”

Morgan closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool glass. She could feel the case breaking apart, the knots in the DA’s case unraveling as she picked at the evidence. But she hadn’t been quick enough for Nick. All her efforts hadn’t been enough.

“If only I’d questioned Felicity earlier—”

“Stop that!” Lance cut her off. “You’ve done everything possible. You’ve investigated a case when the police and the DA failed to do their due diligence. You’ve come up with two alternative suspects and destroyed the credibility of one of the prosecution’s witnesses. You have nothing to regret. This is not your fault. The blame here rests on the DA and Chief Horner. They were so sure they had an open-and-shut case.”

She nodded, but she didn’t really agree. In hindsight, she could have done better. She could have realized the police were interested in Nick as a suspect before they’d actually arrested him. She should have checked on him after they’d found Tessa’s body. She’d known he’d be one of the primary suspects as the boyfriend of the victim.

Lance reached across the console and grabbed her hand. “You are amazing. You’ve stuck by Nick when no one else would.”

At the hospital, they parked in the ER lot and went in through the sliding doors. They found Nick’s father in the hallway of the ER, both hands pressed to his forehead. Ten feet down the hall, a sheriff’s deputy leaned against the wall. The fact that he was outside the room told Morgan that Nick was in bad condition. So bad that there was no chance he could escape or be aggressive.

“Bud!” Morgan rushed forward.

Bud lowered his hands, his eyes shell-shocked. “He’s in emergency surgery. Another prisoner stabbed him in the belly three times with some sort of homemade knife. A shiv, they called it.”

Blinking back a tear, Morgan put her hand on Bud’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He covered her hand with his. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Morgan didn’t say anything about the case. It wasn’t the time. “Did they say anything about his condition?”

Bud swallowed. It looked as if it took some effort. “He’s lost a lot of blood. They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

Lance steered Morgan and Bud toward a waiting room. The guard stayed in the hall. “I checked with the nurse. The surgeon will come and talk to us when he gets out of the OR.”

“Can I call someone for you, Bud?” Morgan asked.

He pressed a hand to his lower back. “No. My sister is coming from Manhattan. She should be here in a couple of hours.”

Morgan called home and told her grandfather not to expect her. Lance brought coffee, but the first sip turned sour in Morgan’s belly. Bud paced. Lance called Sharp and updated him. Morgan dropped into a chair to wait. Lance sat next to her. Hours passed in a tense, silent fog. Morgan lost track of the time, but pins and needles in her legs forced her to get up and walk the hallways multiple times. Bud’s sister arrived and paced with him.

A shadow fell across the doorway. Morgan startled to attention as a green-scrubbed surgeon walked into the room, his surgical mask still tied around his neck.

He swept the skullcap off his head. “Mr. Zabrowski?”

Bud nodded, frozen in place in the middle of the room as if he was afraid to get closer to the doctor.

As if he was afraid to hear if Nick was alive or dead.

“I’m not going to lie to you. His injuries are severe. He suffered three stab wounds to the abdomen. The worse of which was the laceration to the liver. We’ve repaired the damage but he lost a lot of blood. He’s received several units to replace his blood volume.” The surgeon paused, his mouth grim. “The next twenty-four hours are critical. He’s young and strong, and he made it through the surgery without any major complications. He’s in recovery now.” The surgeon’s gaze swept the room. “Once he gets settled in the surgical intensive care unit, you’ll be able to see him.” He glanced around the room. “Immediate family only. Do you have any questions?”