Cord subsided. Shoved a hand through his dark hair in frustration.

“I can assure all of you that Sheriff Garrett is completely safe here,” Marisol added.

Brynne spoke up, at last. “What about her husband? What’s being done to protect Eli from him?”

If she received an answer she didn’t like, she would park herself in Eli’s room and protect him herself.

“Mr. Lansing has not been charged with a crime. That said, he is permitted to sit with Mrs. Lansing. I’ve spoken with Mr. Lansing, and he is quite undone by what’s happened, especially so soon after their son’s death.”

“That isn’t good enough,” Sara protested. “Fred Lansing is a horrible man, and he probably sees Gretchen as the victim here, not the perpetrator.”

“Sara’s right,” J.P. interjected. “He’s as crazy as his wife. Suppose he decides to carry out his idea of justice?”

“Security has been alerted that Mr. Lansing is not allowed to set foot on this floor,” Marisol said.

J.P. shook his head, turned to Cord. “Who’s standing the first watch? You or me?”

“Since we’re liable to butt heads over this,” Cord reasoned quietly, “with both of us wanting to stay, we’d better flip a coin.”

Sara watched the two men with obvious relief. She had been at the hospital almost as long as Eli had, the attack having occurred around four in the afternoon.

It was past midnight now.

Strange, Brynne reflected. She hadn’t given a single thought to the time of day until that moment; she’d rushed to the hospital as soon as Sara called, a little after five.

Now Marisol crossed the room and spoke quietly to Sara, assuring her that her brother would be well looked after and urging her to go home and rest.

Sara did have dark circles under her eyes. She was pale, too, and though Brynne had tried to convince her to go downstairs to the cafeteria and grab something to eat, she hadn’t been willing to leave the ICU.

“Think about the kids,” Brynne prodded. “They’re worried, too. They’ll need you, Sara.”

For a moment, Sara looked fierce, but her expression softened. “You’re right,” she said. “I should go home. But so should you, Brynne.”

Brynne thought of her poor, concerned parents, probably wide-awake, despite the late hour, and waiting for news. She’d phoned them in a panic when she’d gotten word that Eli had been rushed to the hospital and taken in for surgery, before hurrying there herself. She’d ignored their texts and voice mails since then, focused on Eli, too agitated to concentrate on the simplest thing that didn’t concern his well-being.

She turned her head to look at J.P. and Cord.