Heather Graham - Dying Breath

Griffin wasn’t sure if the note in Barnes’s voice was amazement—or skepticism.

“Logical, Detective,” Jackson said, stepping forward. “And thank God for Miss Preston. She went the historical and reasonable route. No one saw anything. Hard to slip the woman out in a neighborhood like this without someone seeing something. And as for the clue—where old Paul rode. This house was here. Victoria Preston was pretty amazing.”

“Of course—and still, wow. Amazing—that’s the word,” Barnes said. “Thank you for your help, Miss Preston. Naturally, there’s paperwork.”

“There always is,” Vickie said.

“Miss Preston would like to get to her parents’ home and let them know that she’s fine and that Mrs. Ballantine is alive as well,” Griffin said.

“Yes, of course. But...” Barnes said.

“I’ll go with Miss Preston and take her statement,” Jackson said. “You and Griffin can head to the hospital and speak with Mrs. Ballantine as soon as it’s possible without endangering her health.”

“All right,” Barnes said. Griffin was sure the man was still looking at the three of them suspiciously, as if they shared something that he wasn’t in on.

And they did.

“Let’s go then,” he said to Barnes. He paused and turned to Vickie.

She looked tired, covered in sawdust and damp from exertion. Her dark hair was disarrayed and her eyes seemed incredibly large and green in the garish light of the unfinished area of the basement.

“Thank you,” he told her.

“Of course,” she said. “Of course.”

That should have been it. He should have moved instantly.

He didn’t. He stood there a few seconds longer. There was more to say.

He didn’t know how to say it.

When he finally turned to head out, he knew that he’d see her again.

He had to. He had to because...

He simply had to.

* * *

“Bick-bick! Vickie, Victoria!”

Vickie was almost out the door, escorted by a nice big cop on one side and the rock of a man who was Jackson Crow on the other, when she heard Noah Ballantine calling to her.

She turned, and it felt as if her heart melted in her chest. Though the families had stayed friends since the night of the traumatic events—they’d seen each other now and then at church or other social events—it had now been years since she had seen Noah.

She would have recognized Noah Ballantine, now a nine-year-old, anywhere. He hadn’t changed much. His dad was a truly dignified-looking man, and somehow, Noah was just as dignified. His mother was beautiful, and Noah was still a beautiful kid.

He remembered her. And that was truly amazing. He’d been so young the last time they’d seen one another.

He was tall for his age, lean, with a thatch of sandy hair and hazel eyes. He stared at Vickie gravely, and yet with a look of hope that was humbling. He wasn’t a particularly big kid, but something about his face and eyes seemed way older than his years.

His father, Vickie knew, had just headed for the hospital. Griffin and Detective Barnes would be following. She hoped that everyone hadn’t just forgotten Noah in their anxiety for his mother and determination to talk to her.

“Noah!” she said, and she walked back to him as he raced into her arms.

She hugged him tightly for a minute. When he pulled away at last, he looked at her and said, “I knew you would come. I knew you would save my mother. The way you saved me.”

Vickie flushed, humbled. “Noah, it wasn’t just me, lots of people were involved.”

He smiled at her. “But I knew you would come.” There was suddenly an oddly mischievous look about him. “And, of course, I know there are others involved. But Bick-bick...wow, gotta quit calling you Bick-bick.” He laughed. “I mean I’m older now. And so are you.”

“Thanks.”

“Not that old!” Noah said quickly.

“Thanks again. And, well, I’m not so sure you’re so grown-up they need to throw you out on the streets with the work force,” she told him. “And you may call me anything you like. Noah, it’s so good to see you.”

“My mom...she’s going to be all right, isn’t she?”

“I believe so, Noah. And, hopefully, she’ll be able to tell the officers what happened, and all this will be over,” Vickie said.

Griffin Pryce and Detective Barnes came up behind Noah, waiting patiently before heading out to follow the ambulance to the hospital.

Noah swung around and headed to Griffin to shake his hand.

“Thank you. Thank you. Twice now. You’re really good, I figure. You knew to bring Victoria in. Somehow, sir, I think all this must be that awful man from before,” he said.

Vickie liked the way Griffin smiled down at Noah. He apparently had a nice soft spot for kids.

“We’re just super grateful, Noah, that your mom is going to be okay. And the man before—we made certain—he is in prison. So. What are we going to do about you right now? I think your dad was pretty eager to go be with your mom. Do you have any other family here?”

“No, sir. My parents were kind of old when they had me. Late-life kid, I’ve heard people say. My grandparents are dead. I think I have cousins in Baltimore. But I’ll be okay. This house has an alarm system—and I watch cop shows, even though I’m really not supposed to,” Noah said. “I know as soon as he can, my dad will come back and get me so I can see my mom.”

“You know what, Noah? If you want, Detective Barnes and I are on our way to the hospital—we’ll take you with us,” Griffin told him.

“Really? That would be great.”

Barnes looked at Griffin and frowned.

“We’ll have someone from social services sit with you until you can see her,” Griffin said.

“I can do better than that—just let me see my parents and I’ll head to the hospital and sit with Noah,” Vickie offered. She could have called them, of course. Under the circumstances, it seemed best to actually see them and speak with them in person.

“Miss Preston, you’ve been invaluable,” Detective Barnes said. “I’m sure that—”

“Noah and I are old friends,” Vickie said. “It will be my pleasure.”

“It is set then,” Jackson Crow said firmly. “I’ll see to it that Miss Preston visits her parents, and then gets to the hospital. Vickie, if you will?” he asked, indicating the door.

Vickie smiled at the others and spun around to head out the door. The big cop was patiently waiting for them. A crowd had gathered; traffic was snarled.

News, it seemed, traveled fast. Maybe people just gathered any time an ambulance and cop cars appeared. “Duck your head—we’ll keep your involvement out of the press,” Jackson Crow told her.

She ducked her head.

The cop drove; Vickie was next to him, aware of Jackson Crow behind her.

The cop stayed with the car, Jackson politely thanking him.

Up in her parents’ apartment, Vickie was nearly crushed to death by her mom and dad. She told them happily that Mrs. Ballantine was going to be fine, they were fairly certain. She would spend at least one night in the hospital.

“We should really visit when we can, Phil,” her mother told her father. “It is sad—we were close with George and Chrissy for so long. And then the thing happened with that maniac Bertram Aldridge. We just... I guess we just drifted apart lately. Anytime we saw one another... I guess all we could think about was that our children might have...died.”

“Of course we’ll visit!” Phil said. He still had an arm around Vickie’s shoulders. He stared at Jackson as if daring the man to take her away from him.

“Actually, Dad, I’m going to the hospital now. I’m going to stay with Noah Ballantine,” Vickie told them.