That was why our captain and the director of the FBI had immediately called us back in before any of us had even reached ground zero. The two of them stood at the head of our conference room, a whiteboard behind them that showed the breakdown of the last several hours. Diagrams of the finish line depicted the location of each detonation, and camera footage was running on a wall-mounted TV, replaying the last minute before the explosion.
Once the video ended, it started over.
Tactical teams were on the ground, forensics were scouring every inch of the area, crews were monitoring phone lines that had been set up for tips from the public. And we were here, coming up with the plan on how to identify the bastard and take their ass down.
Every few minutes, we were updated on the number of deceased, the amount injured, how the hospitals in the area were handling the sudden intake.
Mentally, Boston was a fucking wreck.
But everyone in this room, along with teams that were being flown in, was tough as hell, and we were going to do everything we could to heal those wounds.
Since the explosion, my phone had been vibrating nonstop from my pocket, and I’d dodged all calls, aside from my family, letting them know I was safe and ensuring they were as well. But as I took a quick glance at the screen, Alix’s name was on it.
She had just called a few minutes ago and not left a message.
I sent her to voice mail, hoping she would leave one this time, and looked at the FBI director. He was outlining how far the fragments of the bombs had flown. But as I tried to focus on his drawing—the details of this important, as it helped us figure out the exact spot of ignition—Alix was calling again.
As a paramedic, if she hadn’t already been on the schedule for today, I imagined she would have been called in to ground zero. I was sure she was phoning to get information on the bomber, probably on her way to the hospital with an ambulance full of wounded.
I didn’t have time to answer those questions.
They needed me here, in this room, paying attention.
I sent her to voice mail again, my eyes back on the board, the anxiousness in my stomach heightening as the FBI director began circling the placement he was estimating as the location of the first bomb. Once that was determined, footage could be reviewed to look for unusual activity and movement, bringing us one step closer to finding the suspect.
My phone vibrated, this time with a text message.
Alix: CALL ME RIGHT NOW.
There was something about her words that set off an alarm inside my body.
The urgency.
The demand.
Things I’d never seen from Alix before.
I glanced up when there was commotion in the hallway—it happened every time the door opened, someone coming or going. Now, it was from two agents making their way inside, finding seats behind the large table, and again as I rushed out the already-open door.
Once I was outside the room, I found Alix’s number and connected the call, holding the phone to my ear.
Within a ring, she answered, her voice coming out as a gasp. “As-she.”
“Alix? Are you all right? I’m in the middle of—”
“As-she!”
She sounded worse, a mix of weeping and hyperventilating.
I rushed down the hallway several paces, finding a bare wall to push my back against. “What’s wrong?”
“A-sh-sh-e,” she stuttered, and I was hardly able to make out what she was saying. “H-he’s gone.”
I pressed the phone even harder against my ear, making sure there was no space in between the speaker and my skin. “I don’t know what you mean. Who’s gone?”
“Dy-lan.”
My heart lodged into the back of my throat; my free hand flattened against the wall to hold my balance. The weight in my legs felt so heavy; they didn’t want to hold me anymore.
“What do you mean, he’s gone?”
“We were at the m-marathon, and he was st-standing at the finish-sh line.” She tried to inhale, but her lungs wheezed. “I-I held him in m-my arms, Ashe. H-he’s gone.”
My back lowered as my feet gave out, landing me on my ass. “No, Alix.” The room was too bright, too loud. I placed my hand over my eyes to block some of it out. “Tell me this isn’t fucking true.” My stomach was revolting, my heart stopping while I waited for her answer.
“When I-I held him, he was already d-dead.” Her voice quieted, but there was no mistaking what she had said. “I-I rocked h-him until they to-ok him from me-e. Oh God, A-Ashe. Oh God.”
My hand left my eyes and clenched into a fist, pounding on the floor. “No.” My fingers were threatening to break. “No, Alix. Nooo!”
I couldn’t process this.
I couldn’t comprehend it.
I couldn’t believe it.
My best friend … couldn’t be gone.
No.
“Ashe!” she screamed, like she was fighting for her life. “I s-still have his blood o-on my hands. I-I can’t wash it off-f.” She gasped in a breath. “Help me, A-Ashe. H-help me!”
My eyes dripped, and I swiped it away before I punched the floor again. “No.”
“Every time I-I look down, I see h-him. His lifeless body. Those b-beautiful eyes closed. Oh God-d, Ashe. I c-can’t …”
My teeth ground together, the tightness in my chest expanding to the rest of my body.
I couldn’t feel.
I couldn’t think.
I couldn’t …
My eyes shut, squeezing together, the air not moving well through my lungs. “No.”
“You’re the first person I-I’ve called. I haven’t even t-told his parents.” She let out a cry that was even louder than the others had been.
“Alix …” I had no breath. No thoughts. I was a pit of emptiness, trying to work my way through this news. “No.”
“I have t-to go relive this all over again when I-I tell his mom and d-dad.”
“I’ll do it.” I paused, trying to swallow. “I’ll call them.”
“I was-s there, holding their son. It-t feels like it sh-should come from m-me.” She took several breaths, almost choking after each one. “Good-bye, Ashe.”
The phone went dead before I could tell her I was leaving for the hospital, to be there for her, my cell now dropping from my hand. As it hit the floor, the screen turned on, showing a photo of Pearl, Dylan, and me.
It was eleven years old. The morning of graduation.
Dressed in our caps and gowns.
“No.” My fingers clenched, hitting the hard floor, unable to stop. “Nooo!”
Forty-Five
Kerry
“He’ll forgive you.”
The words that man had spoken from the other side of the wall stayed with me.
I didn’t know who he was.
I didn’t know how he fit into this equation.
But I’d said more to him and not gotten a response. I’d even begged for conversation, and each request had gone unanswered.
The more time that passed, the more his words repeated in my head, the more the punishment sank in.
And it came on immediately.
No food.
No light.
No emptying of my bucket.
I was stuck in the dark, in the cold, with nothing, except for the cot and Beverly.