Page 115 of Carter

I see nothing from here, but I hear it. Not too far. Far enough, but close enough too. A few blocks, maybe. This isn’t the best neighborhood, and the further west you go, the worse it gets. That’s where it’s all coming from. It’s normal. It’s just the city. Nothing to freak out about. That’s what I keep telling myself.

But I have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach like something is wrong. All of this mixed with Nash not answering is terrifying. I ignore it though. I have to. I can’t worry every time I hear something like this. I’ll drive myself crazy, and go right back to the hermit I was when Ryan first died. I don’t want to be like that; I don’t want to be afraid of everything all the time.

So I go back to bed.

But still I can’t sleep. It feels like bugs are crawling all over me and I think I’m going to be sick. I get up to use the bathroom, splash water on my face, and get a bottle of water. It’s been nearly forty-five minutes since I first woke up. I have work tomorrow. I really need to sleep.

But where is Nash?

I try his cell again. Straight to voicemail. Maybe his phone died, and he went home to sleep. I’m sure he’s exhausted. Why would he come here to see if I’d answer the door? It doesn’t make sense. He’s definitely home sleeping—which is what I need to do. So once again, I crawl into bed, get under the blankets, and put the volume louder on the TV to drown out the sounds of the city.

I’m just about there, just about asleep, when this wave of dread falls over me. I grab my phone, and do a search for a local news app. Of course they’ll be covering what’s going on. I can see that it’s some random person and I can go back to sleep.

Common sense, Carter. You should’ve done that before.

I click on the link that comes up with a live video of what looks like someone covering what’s going on.

I read the title and almost throw up.

BREAKING: NYPD Detective and Civilian Shot During Search Warrant

I look up at the window, at where all the noise is coming from. It can’t be. It just can’t…

I quickly scan the article before I throw up. There’s barely any information here at all. I was hoping for names, more info, something to make me feel better.

Both victims were airlifted to Bellevue Hospital. Officers say the suspect is in custody. More information to come.

“That’s it?” I mutter to myself. “That’s fucking it?” I cry out. There has to be more. Why isn’t there a name?

With shaking fingers, I close out of it and go to another site. Same info. Nothing more, nothing less.

“What the fuck,” I growl as my head starts to spin. I check another site. And another and another. It’s all the same. I check the news and they aren’t even talking about it!

I call Nash again. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Six. Seven. I lose track. I’m fucking losing my mind. I get up, trying to keep my balance as I throw on clothes and shoes. I open the Uber app and choose the one that’ll be here immediately, even though it’s twice the cost.

I hurry downstairs and out to the street to wait for it to show. I’m running for the car before it even stops in front of my house.

“Please, hurry.”

The man gives me a concerned look, double checks where I’m going, and when he notices it’s the hospital, he speeds off. Though, it’s not fast enough.

I’m out of the car before it stops moving, rushing through the front doors and going right to reception. From the corner of my eye, I see cops and detectives all over. But not Nash. He’s not here. He’s not standing around with all the others.

“H-hi, I need you to tell me if there is a Nash Bennett here.”

“Are you family?” the receptionist asks.

“No, I—” I run my trembling hand through my hair. “I just need you to tell me if he’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but if you’re not family, I can’t give you any information.”

“Please,” I say. “Please, I just need to know if it was him.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Really. There’s nothing I can do.”

Panic overwhelms me. I can hardly see straight. There are seats off to the side, so I try to make my way there. And as I do, I overhear a couple of cops talking. I listen, wanting to know what’s going on because Ineedto know.

“They said he’s going to be okay.”