I don’t sleep. But not for the reason you think.

Two paramedics came rushing down the hallway with a stretcher.

Tim Roberts backed into his daughter’s room and put his arm around his wife. Susan Roberts put her head on her husband’s shoulder, despair and grief in every line of their bodies. They huddled together as if they could provide a physical wall against the forces that conspired to break their family.

Kate moved to the far end of the corridor, away from Mel Owen’s thwarted vengeance, away from the Roberts’ stunned expressions. She needed to compose herself.

Leah could have been killed.

And Salma Owen was dead.

The Roberts’ lives would never be the same.

The revolver pointed at her head. Kate froze. She would be shot point-blank by the woman who had caused her so much pain as a teenager. The dank odor of the storage room filled her nostrils.

Would she die here?

In a room that was so full of hate and evil that her mouth was rank with it?

Spots swam in Kate’s vision. She put a hand on the wall. It was cold.

Cold like the surgical table on which she had once been bound. Cold like the blade of the scalpel that had scarred her leg.

Breathe, Kate.

Mel Owen’s blood gleamed in a bleak pool under the harsh lights.

She closed her eyes.

Get it together.

“Kate!” Randall rushed toward her. “What happened? I just saw Mel Owen in a stretcher.”

“He tried to shoot Leah. The sheriff tackled him and broke his leg. He’s going to the ER.”

“What?”

“He had a gun. He was trying to get to her room, but I grabbed the back of his wheelchair.”

“Did he hurt you?” Randall ran an assessing gaze over her.

She managed a weak smile. “He gave my hand a good whack with his gun.”

“Tell me what happe—”

Two police constables sprinted through the doors to the ICU, guns drawn.

“Don’t move! Put your hands out in front of you!” the first officer shouted.

Kate and Randall stretched their arms out so the police could see them. As soon as the two constables ascertained that neither of them possessed weapons, one of the officers approached them, while the other stopped in the doorway of each of the rooms and scanned the interior.

“I represent Mr. Owen,” Randall said. “And Ms. Lange is counsel for Ms. Roberts. Can we put our hands down? As you can see, my colleague is injured.”

The police officer glanced at Kate’s bruised, swollen hand. “Yes, put your hands down. Did either of you witness what occurred?”