The room smelled faintly of antiseptic.
“Ariel?” she whispered.
I rushed to her side. “Marjorie, what happened? Are you hurt?”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head quickly and glanced toward the hallway.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The fear in her voice frightened me more than anything else in the room.
I lowered myself beside the bed. “Why not?”
“Because Owen will come back.”
“Then let him.”
She reached for my wrist, and her fingers felt cold. “You don’t understand.”
Before I could respond, the front door opened downstairs.
Marjorie froze.
The sound of footsteps moved through the entryway.
“Ariel,” she pleaded. “Please hide.”
Every instinct told me to call the police, but my phone was downstairs on the kitchen counter. I had dropped it there when I ran toward her voice.
The footsteps reached the staircase.
I moved behind the bedroom door just as Owen entered.
