He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

down and kissed the soft skin of her hand. He listened to the rhythm of her breathing, watched the rise and fall of her chest.
    She was a survivor, one of the toughest women he’d ever known. It was because of her remarkable will that she was still alive after suffering not one, but two horrible traumas in her life.
    No thanks to him.
    Oh, he knew people were calling him a hero, saying that even though Amanda had fired the fatal shot, if Logan hadn’t tracked her down she wouldn’t have had the gun in the first place. Riley would have killed her and he’d still be out there killing other women.
    But those people didn’t know the whole story. They didn’t realize if it weren’t for him, Riley would have been caught ten years ago. Dana Branson, Carolyn O’Donnell, Karen Bingham, and five other women wouldn’t have died. Amanda wouldn’t have been attacked, wouldn’t have nearly died—twice—if he’d done his job, if he’d followed procedure.
    Or if he’d listened to Amanda when she’d tried to show him her list of suspects.
    So many women dead. One woman scarred for life, inside, where it mattered. Countless families torn apart.
    If things were different, if Amanda could have forgiven him, he might have been able to forgive himself eventually, move on. But he’d looked deep into her eyes when he played that damn CD. He saw the devastation and the horror wash through her, watched her turn away from him, knew they would never be able to navigate the ocean of hurt that lay between them.
    And then she’d said those words in the woods, words that stabbed his heart like a knife.
    What took you so long?
    He didn’t blame her for feeling that way, for resenting that he took so long to find the killer, to find her. She’d suffered far too much because of his failings.
    In spite of everything, even though he deserved nothing, he wanted the pleasure of seeing her beautiful eyes one last time. But he knew that could never be. He couldn’t bear to see them filled with hate or condemnation, and he knew she wouldn’t want to see him anyway. Instead, he would remember the way they were filled with awe the first time they made love. He would carry that picture in his heart and it would be enough, would have to be enough.
    He pressed a warm kiss against her fingertips and carefully laid her hand on top of the white sheet. He pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket pocket and set it on the side table next to her bed. Then he walked out of her life, and didn’t look back.
    A manda’s throat was raw, dry. When she tried to swallow it was as if someone had sandpapered her tongue.
    When she’d awoken earlier, the doctor explained she had a tube down her throat, a respirator, helping her breathe. That was why her throat was so sore. It would remain in for at least another day until he felt she could breathe adequately on her own.
    The doctor told her she’d been unconscious for three days, but he didn’t tell her anything else. She tried to ask him questions but couldn’t speak with the tube down her throat. When he brought her a pad of paper and a pen, she couldn’t grasp the pen to write down her questions. She was still too weak.
    After giving her a sympathetic smile and assuring her she was on her way to recovery, he’d left the room, leaving her frustrated and anxious.
    She wanted to know if Karen and Pierce were okay.
    She wanted reassurance that Riley was really dead, because, even though she was the one who’d pulled the trigger, she still couldn’t quite believe the man who’d hurt her and killed Dana was really, finally, gone.
    And she wanted Logan. She needed to see him, hold him. She needed to tell him she didn’t blame him for anything. She needed to tell him she loved him.
    “Ms. Stockton?” A smiling woman in a white smock entered the room. “My name is Shelly. I’m your nurse this afternoon. It’s good to see you doing so much better. I was here when they first brought you in.”
    She hung a clear plastic bag on the IV pole, replacing the empty one. “Do you need anything for pain?”
    Amanda shook her head no.
    The nurse patted her hand and leaned over to straighten Amanda’s pillow. “Oh, look, someone left you a card.” She held up an envelope. “It says To Amanda, From Logan . Oh, how sweet. It must be from Chief Richards. He’s been pacing the hallway and sleeping in that chair beside your bed night and day since you got here. He only left today to attend that