When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,97

ear look black against his pale skin.

Officers and EMTs surrounded me, and I was forced to let go of his hand. A police officer led me away, shining a flashlight in my face.

“Have you been drinking, son?”

“Me, but not him. There was a deer…”

“Uh huh. Come over here with me.”

He took hold of my upper arm and gently guided me to the side of the road where I sat down hard, hands dangling from my knees. My eyes drifted again and again to the team working to pry the door open and get to River. The cold was surging back in, making me numb.

If he dies…

A small pained sound escaped me, my body wracked with shivers.

“What happened tonight?” the officer asked. He had a kind but serious face. His nametag said Tran.

Another officer with a nametag reading Dowd, loomed over me, a sneer curling his lips. “Why are your clothes wet?”

“I took a swim,” I said, my teeth chattering.

“A swim?” Dowd asked. He snorted. “You trying to kill yourself?”

Officer Tran shot him a look. “Easy.”

I shook my head. “I did what they taught me to do.”

My gaze drifted back to the mangled wreck of the truck and the EMTs who were putting River’s motionless body on a stretcher. His neck was in a brace, an oxygen mask covering his mouth.

“My fault,” I whispered. “It’s all my fault.”

“You hurt anywhere?” Officer Tran asked gently.

“No,” I muttered with a harsh, rasping laugh. “What a joke. A sick fucking joke.”

Aside from minor burns on my cheek from the airbag, there wasn’t a scratch on me. But River was being loaded into an ambulance. Unconscious. Maybe brain damaged. Or paralyzed. He might be dead already while I was breathing and walking and alive.

This is wrong. All wrong. It should be me…

The cops asked me more questions, my name and age, and then the ambulance was pulling away…

“Wait.” I scrambled to my feet. “Wait, I have to go with him. Please…”

Dowd held out an arm and shoved me back down. “You’re not going anywhere.” He grimaced. “You look mighty broken up. That your boyfriend, son?”

I peered up at him. Dowd. “Frankie Dowd.”

“That’s my boy, yeah. You got something you want to say about him?”

Officer Tran joined us with an EMT. He knelt in front of me. “We’re going to take you to the hospital too, okay? But first let’s get you checked out. Then you can be with your friend.”

An EMT sat with me and gave me what I presumed was a concussion test. I passed with flying colors and they shuffled me into the front seat of Tran’s squad car. We tore down the road, the ambulance ahead of us, sirens screaming and red lights flashing.

When we arrived at UCSC Medical Center, River had already been wheeled inside and whisked away to God-knew where. Officer Tran took my arm and led me into a waiting area. He and a few other cops conferred, trying to figure out what to do with me.

“Is there someone we can call for you?” he asked.

“No. But River… We have to tell his dad. Oh, Christ…” I bent over, my head between my knees as dizziness assaulted me.

“We have his ID,” Officer Tran said gently. “His parents have been notified.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “What about you, son? How about getting you some warm clothes—?”

I shook out of his touch and stood up. “I need to use the restroom.”

He nodded at the hallway in the bustling hospital.

“I’ll be waiting out here.”

Just arrest me already, I wanted to scream. I might’ve murdered a man tonight.

I crossed to the bathroom and shoved open the door that weighed a thousand pounds. My face under the garish fluorescents was unrecognizable. Pale green eyes in a paler face, marred only by a dash of red on my left cheek bone. I looked like what they called me—a vampire, gaunt and chiseled out of white porcelain. Lifeless.

My clothes were still damp and covered in sand. River’s tux jacket peeked out from under my coat, and a sob tore out of my throat. I hugged myself, as if I could hold onto some piece of him.

When there was nothing left in me, I dabbed my face with a paper towel, tossed it in the trash, and walked out to find Jerry Whitmore talking to Officer Tran.

He looked frantic and just out of bed in sweatpants, shoes without socks, and a windbreaker. They spoke for a few moments and then both turned to me.