Page 96 of Healed Heart

The water beats down on me as I stand there letting it wash over me.I try not to think about what could have possibly developed, but the thoughts creep in anyway.

I finish my shower and pull on some fresh clothes.

At the police station, Blake is waiting for me.

“Jason,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

Except it doesn’t steady me or reassure me.

“Blake.”I force a smile onto my face.

He looks at me for a moment before we go into the station.His gaze seems inquisitive.If he has a freaking question, I wish he’d just ask it.

The inside is too bright, sterile like the operating room.The comparison sends a shudder through me, but I squash it down.I follow Blake toward an interrogation room.

Detective Mann is waiting for us.She has short brown hair and sharp features that make her look both beautiful and intimidating.She doesn’t get up when we enter, just looks at us with an unreadable expression.

Great.

“Dr.Lansing,” she says, her voice cold.“And you must be Mr.Haywood.”

“I am.”

“Please,” she says.“Have a seat.”

I sit across from Detective Mann, Blake to my right.

She opens a folder.“We have a question for you, Dr.Lansing.”

“Shoot,” I say.

The detective meets my gaze.“What exactly were you doing at Ralph Normandy’s apartment last night?”

ChapterThirty-Seven

Angie

I’m back at the damned hospital, taking the elevator up to Ralph’s room.

I’d rather be almost anywhere else, but I need answers.

What does all of this have to do with Jason?With me?

A nurse, the same one as yesterday, greets me with a polite smile as I approach Ralph’s room.“You’re here to see Mr.Normandy?”she asks, her eyes full of sympathy.

Clearly she thinks I care about Ralph.

“Yes,” I reply.

She nods and points me toward Ralph’s room.

The sight of him lying so still and helpless on the hospital bed doesn’t faze me.He looks terrible, but I have no sympathy.

Not after how he’s treated me, and more so because of what he’s putting Jason through.

I take a deep breath and approach his bedside, pulling up a chair to sit.“Wake up, Ralph,” I say, not quietly.

But Ralph doesn’t stir.His chest rises and falls rhythmically.