Chapter 20

CANDACE

Bridgette’s voice kept replaying in my head as I hurried across campus and in my car, the slight crack in it bothering me more with every step.

She wasn’t the type to get scared easily. If anything, Bridgette was usually the person telling everyone else to calm down when something went wrong, so hearing her sound that shaken over the phone had immediately put me on edge.

I called her twice on the way to the apartment, but she didn’t answer either time. That only made things worse.

I parked and turned the corner toward her apartment and stopped so abruptly that someone behind me nearly walked into my back.

Two police cars were parked outside.

My stomach dropped.

For a second, I just stood there staring at them, trying to convince myself there had to be another explanation.  

Maybe something had happened in another apartment. Maybe there was a completely reasonable reason for two police officers to be standing outside the building.

Then I saw her front door on the second floor.

It was wide open.

“Bridgette?” I called as I rushed inside.

The sight that greeted me made my heart slam against my ribs. The apartment looked like someone had torn through it searching for something.

The cushions had been thrown off the sofa, drawers were hanging open, clothes were scattered across the floor and several of the books she kept neatly arranged on the shelf were lying underneath the coffee table. One of the kitchen cabinets stood open, its contents partially emptied onto the counter.

And then I saw the wall.

A dark hole had been punched through the plaster above the television.

For several seconds, my brain refused to understand what I was looking at.

Then I saw Bridgette standing near the kitchen. She looked pale, her hair was dishevelled and several thin scratches were running along her forearm.

“Oh my God.”

I dropped my bag and crossed the room in seconds, wrapping my arms around her so tightly that she let out a small gasp.

“Are you okay? Where were you? What happened?”

“Candy, breathe,” she whispered, though her own voice trembled.

I pulled back enough to look at her properly, my hands moving over her arms and shoulders as though I could somehow find every injury that wasn’t visible.

“There’s blood.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch?” I stared at her. “Bridgette, there is a bullet hole in our wall.”

Her eyes flicked toward it before she looked away. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you driving here while you were freaking out.”

“I was already freaking out.”

That earned the faintest smile from her, but it disappeared almost immediately.

One of the officers approached us, clipboard in hand.

“Are you Candace Winters?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Officer Ramirez.”

I nodded, still staring at Bridgette. “Can I take her to the hospital?”

The officer looked at the scratches on Bridgette’s arm. “After we’re finished here. The injuries don’t appear serious, but she should still get checked out.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

The officer turned his attention back to Bridgette.

“Let’s go through this again. You said you were in the living room when you heard something.”

Bridgette nodded. “I’d just gotten back from class. I was putting my bag down when I heard something in the kitchen.”

“Did you see the person’s face?”

“No.”

“Did you see whether it was a man or a woman?”

“A man.”

“How tall?”

Bridgette frowned, trying to remember. “I don’t know. Taller than me. Maybe around six feet?”

“Did he say anything?”

“No.”

“Did he touch you?”

She hesitated. “He grabbed my arm when I tried to get away.”

My jaw tightened.

The officer noticed but continued. “What was he wearing?”

“A black hoodie. Dark jeans. I think he was wearing gloves.”

“Any distinctive features? Shoes, jewellery, tattoos?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What exactly was taken?”

Bridgette looked around the apartment. “My laptop. Some cash from my bedroom. My necklace and a couple of other pieces of jewellery. I think my tablet is gone too.”

“Anything else?”

“I don’t know. Everything’s a mess.”

Officer Ramirez wrote something down before looking back at her.

“And the gunshot?”

“I heard it after I ran toward the door.”

“Did you see where he was standing when he fired?”

“No. I just heard it.”

The officer nodded slowly.

Then his expression changed slightly. “Do you have any idea who it might have been?”

Bridgette didn’t answer immediately.

I looked at her. She was staring at the floor, her fingers curling around the sleeve of her shirt.

“Bridgette?”

Her eyes lifted.

“No,” she finally said. “I don’t.”

The officer studied her for another moment before closing the notebook.

“Alright. If you remember anything else, no matter how insignificant it seems, call us.”

He handed her a card and stepped away.

I waited until he was gone before taking Bridgette’s hand. “Hospital. Now.”

She didn’t argue this time.

The hospital visit took longer than I expected. Thankfully, the scratches were superficial and the bruising around her wrist wasn’t serious, but the doctor still cleaned everything properly and gave her something for the pain.

I stayed beside her through all of it.

By the time we were finally sitting in the waiting area, the adrenaline had started wearing off, leaving behind a strange heaviness that made everything feel unreal.

Bridgette leaned her head against the wall. “I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if…”

I turned toward her. “You mean if I had been here when he broke in?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know.” I swallowed. “Maybe we’d both be in the hospital.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“I know.”

She gave me a tired look, and despite everything, I laughed softly.

“I’m serious,” she said.

“So am I.”

We sat quietly for a moment. Then she reached for my hand.

“I was scared, Candy.”

The honesty in her voice made something twist painfully inside my chest.

“I know.”

“No, I mean really scared.” She looked down at our intertwined fingers. “I’ve never been that scared before.”

I squeezed her hand. “You’re not staying alone tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Good.”

We eventually left the hospital and went back to my apartment. There wasn’t much else we could do. The police had told us we could return once they’d finished processing the scene, but neither of us wanted to sleep there that night anyway.

I ordered food because neither of us had the energy to cook, and for a while we sat on my bed with our containers balanced on our laps, watching some random television show neither of us was actually following.

Bridgette even managed to make a few jokes about the state of the apartment.

“I swear, if they stole my good hair products, I’m going to be more upset about that than the laptop.”

I laughed despite myself. “That’s because you have your priorities completely backwards.”

“Exactly.”

I looked at her. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”

Her expression changed. “What do you mean?”

“The guy. Anything about him. His voice, his face, anything.”

She shook her head slowly. “I never saw his face.”

I nodded, pulling my knees toward my chest. “Okay.”

Bridgette stared down at the blanket covering her legs.

“I remember one thing.”

I turned toward her. “What?”

She swallowed, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket.

“He knew my name.”

I stared at her.

Her eyes lifted to mine, Recognition and Fear playing on her face.

“And I might know his.”