Page 48 of Midnight Mooring

“Okay, I think you’re in shock, so I need you to lie down.” I gestured for Paula to move out of the way and tried not to be worried by how easily Cameron acquiesced as I lay her down on the couch. “I need to elevate her legs.”

Paula immediately grabbed her sofa cushions.

“Blood,” I reminded her, gesturing to Cameron’s foot.

“I don’t care.” Paula shook her head.

I nodded gratefully and piled the cushions at the foot of the couch and placed Cameron’s legs gently on them.

Since we were a tiny island without a hospital, Isla and I were specialist paramedics who had undergone training so we could carry out minor procedures like suturing or using skin glue. One look at the cut on Cameron’s foot told me she needed stitches.

“I need to suture your wound, so I’m going to inject a mild anesthetic into the area. Okay, babe?” I looked down at her, every protective instinct in me roaring to life to see my bold Cameron appearing so drained and vulnerable. Again. Anger rushed through me that she was being put through this so soon after the Greig Wallace nightmare. Paula had obviously given her a jumper to cover her upper half, but that left her in skimpy silk pajama shorts that made her look extra vulnerable. I turned to the male police officer in the room.

“I’m sorry, are you her partner?” he asked.

I avoided the question. “I’d like to proceed in private.”

The guy nodded and stood. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

After he’d gone, Paula asked, “Do you need another clean towel?”

“No, you did well putting pressure on it. If you could just talk to Cameron, keep her focused, while I stitch up the wound.”

I left the room to wash my hands thoroughly and returned to get on with it. It took everything in me, but I didn’t let my mind wander to what she’d just been through or what might have happened to her if she hadn’t woken up. Instead, I focused on numbing her left foot and cleaning the gash on her sole. Paula chattered away to Cameron in a soothing voice, asking her for advice on some ideas she had for decorating the house. Strangely, it really helped bring Cameron out of her shock and allowed me to work quickly to suture the wound and wrap it.

“I’m going to deal with these.” I gestured to my blood-covered gloved hands.

Cameron’s blood.

As I stood at the sink in the small downstairs loo, I thought of the man I’d put into the air ambulance tonight. How determined his grief had made me to fight for Cameron.

If she hadn’t woken up tonight, if she hadn’t acted as fast as she did, I might not have gotten the chance.

I might have lost her before I could even tell her what she really meant to me.

And what if it was my fault? What if what me and Quinn and the lads had said in the Lantern tonight was the reason someone had attacked her?

Shaken to my core, I walked back into that living room more determined than ever to make things right with her.

“How are you feeling?” I lowered to my haunches beside Cameron.

She turned her head on the couch cushion, and I was relieved to see her eyes were no longer glazed over. “Better. Thanks.”

I explained what I’d done to her foot and how she’d have to try to stay off it for a while to let the stitches do their work. A flash of irritation and impatience on her face filled me with relief because that was more like Cameron. She hated the idea of anything holding her back.

“Cammie.”

At the deep, authoritative voice, Cameron moved to sit up and didn’t push me away when I helped her. We turned to find Detective Inspector Paul Young standing over us. DI Young was the senior officer in charge on Glenvulin. Shit had to be bad, though, to drag him out to an incident.

“Did you find him?” I demanded.

He shook his head, grim. “No. We have a traffic camera just off this street, so we captured the bastard running off, but we lost him after Portree Terrace. He was, as Cammie said, wearing a mask, so there’s no way to identify him. But if he’s a stranger, he can’t have gone far, so we’re doing a wide search for him. It’s fortunate this event coincided with the Highland Games, so we have extra manpower.”

“Fortunate?” I scoffed.

“Bad word choice.” His gaze moved to Cameron. “I’ve already called in and I can assure you that Greig Wallace is still in custody, so it has nothing to do with that.”

Cameron’s lips trembled. “He had a hunting knife.”