“Hi. You’ve reached Alex Rolfe. I’m not the best at checking voicemail, so please send a text and I’ll be sure to get back to you.”

“Siri, hang up.”

“Siri, call Alex Rolfe.”

Ring. Ring.

“Ryan.” Her voice floods me with a staggering sense of relief. The onslaught is stranger than the pile of flowers. Thank god.

“Where are you? Are you okay?” My tires squeal as I round the corner and accelerate, one block away from her building. Up ahead, police barricades block the street.

“Someone came after me.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m outside. With the police.”

“What happened?” I park in front of a fire hydrant, the only spot available, and jump out.

“A man met me in the stairwell. He had a gun.” Why the fuck were you in a stairwell? “I took off running. I knew something was wrong. Another professor was still in his office. We barricaded ourselves in and called nine-one-one.”

“Did they get the guy?” I speed past a police officer.

“Sir, you can’t go there.”

“I’m here for my wife.” He won’t gun me down for charging past him for my family.

“Sir, you can’t—”

I push forward.

“Ryan? Where are you?”

On the northwest side of the parking lot, there’s an ambulance and multiple cop cars.

“Did you get shot?” I break out into a run in a straight line for the ambulance.

“No. He shot at the door, but the bullet seemed to jam the lock. The police had to break the door down to get in. Campus police responded to our call first, and he shot at them, but he didn’t hit anyone. I think he was trying to give himself clearance to get away.”

“Did they catch him?” Alex’s dark hair comes into view. She has a phone pressed to her ear. Three police officers are standing near her. She’s leaning against the vehicle, her back to me. I end the call.

“Alex!” She turns, and within seconds she’s in my arms. My hands roam her hair, her back, her arms. I grip her biceps and hold her away from me, scanning her body from top to bottom.

“I’m okay,” she says. “Ryan, I’m okay. He didn’t get to me.”

A police officer steps up to us.

“Dr. Rolfe was smart. She ran the moment she saw his gun.”

Alex’s eyes are a bright shade of green, her cheeks flushed. She caresses my arm.

“It’s okay, Ryan. It’s okay.”

I crush her to my chest and breathe her in. She smells like the pile of flowers in my seat. Her head comes to my shoulder. My fingers tangle with her hair as I hold the back of her head to me. I need this moment. He didn’t harm her.

I close my eyes, breathe, and get control. Her fingers lightly caress my neck. My heartrate slows. I open my eyes and take stock.

Six patrol cars on this section of the parking lot, two ambulances. Crowds of students stand to the north side. News crews line the barricades.