Page 77 of The Getaway

Blood spurted everywhere, and Marshall hit the floor, clutching his leg. Suzy fell to her knees next to him in instant hysterics. While Grant worked to get the gun away from Sean, who seemed to have gone catatonic, Marley went to Marshall’s side. Cole turned around and vomited onto the floor next to the couch, and Daisy ran for the kitchen. Wintour barked like her life depended on it.

“What’s going on? Was that a gunshot?” The twins appeared halfway down the stairs.

“Girls, get back up to your room!” Gemma shouted.

They ignored her and came down instead. One of them whipped out her phone to film. The other grabbed Wintour out of her crate and got her to stop barking, for which Marley was grateful.

“Marshall, oh my God, are you okay?” Marley asked, on her knees next to him. She grasped his hand as the pool of blood widened toward her legs.

“No, I’m not okay! I’m shot! What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry, Marshall,” Sean said. “Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry.”

“Someone get something to stop the bleeding!” Hazel jumped off the couch and handed her baby over to Lily, of all people. “Magdelena, get bottled water. Does anyone have a flashlight?”

“What? Why?” Gemma asked. It was morning, so there was light in the room, unlike last night, but not much. It was still cloudy outside.

“So I can see the wound better.” Hazel seemed exasperated by the question. “There’s no electricity, remember?”

Marley had no idea why Hazel was taking charge, but she wasn’t about to argue. She’d never seen so much blood in her life. And it was Marshall’s blood. This couldn’t be happening. Her brain felt like it was throbbing inside her skull.

“Here. We gathered a bunch yesterday,” Gemma said, coming over and handing Hazel a large black flashlight. Daisy joined with a pile of hand towels from the kitchen, and a roll of paper towels, which she tossed to Cole. Hazel immediately pressed one of the flimsy towels to the wound, and blood spread across it like a puddle from a hose.

“I’m gonna need more than that,” Hazel said.

Daisy nodded and disappeared down the hall. Magdelena returned with a case of bottled water and sat on the floor to start popping them open. She’d also brought another stack of clean kitchen towels. She threw a couple to Cole.

“Tear these into strips,” she ordered.

Cole, who had covered his vomit spatter with paper towels, whipped a pocketknife out of one of his pockets and used it on the kitchen rags. Marley tried not to think about the fact that the one perfect stranger in this murder house had a knife on him this entire time. Marshall continued to groan, his head turning this way and that on the hardwood floor. Marley found Gemma, who was standing there, shell shocked.

“Toss me a pillow,” she said.

Gemma turned and grabbed one from the couch and, instead of throwing it, brought it over between two hands.

“Thank you,” Marley said. She gently lifted Marshall’s head and lay him back down.

“How do you know how to do all this?” Marley asked as Hazel took a few of the strips from Cole and started to tie them around Marshall’s leg, just under the knee. She yanked them so tight Marshall flinched; then she tied them off.

“I’m an RN,” she said. “I worked at New York Presbyterian for ten years.”

“It’s how they met,” Lily said quietly, as she bounced her ex-husband’s baby awkwardly. Lily had never been great with babies. “When Lincoln had that surgery on his knee.”

“You . . . what?” Marley asked. “You’re a nurse? How did I not know this?”

“No one ever bothered to ask me,” Hazel said, but not bitterly. She was too focused on the task at hand to be bitter. Marley couldn’t have been more grateful. She held Marshall’s hand with one of her own and smoothed his brow with the other.

Marley stared at Hazel, looking at her in a whole new light. She was ashamed of herself, having assumed Hazel was some gold digger Lincoln met at a bar or at one of the company retreats or working at a golf-course concession stand. Yet here she was, trying to save Marshall’s life.

“Get water on some of the rags,” Hazel said to Marley and Magdelena. “We need to clean it so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

Daisy came back with more fluffy, absorbent towels. Magdelena held the flashlight as Hazel went about cleaning up the blood. Marley looked across at Suzy, who had calmed down to a quiet misery, tears still streaming down her face. Grant had gotten the gun from Sean and put it on one of the highest shelves near the fireplace, as if he was trying to keep it from a small child. Sean had moved away from the chaos. He plunked himself down heavily on one of the chairs at the table and watched the proceedings like he didn’t quite know where he was.

“Where the hell did you get a gun?” Marley demanded.

“It’s Lincoln’s,” Suzy and Hazel said at once.

“What?” Marshall asked through gritted teeth. “Why does Lincoln have a gun?”