Lead officer James McQueen followed the shrieking ambulance and fire engine up the road to the North Shore, an area of supreme wealth even by the typical standards of the Hamptons. It'd been an unusually urgent call – claims of an arson fire and attempted murder, a far cry from the usual fare of parties gone out of control thrown by summering teenagers.
The man who had called it in claimed to be Nolan Ross, one of the more well-behaved residents of the area, though the call was not from his own home – a modern structure built into the low southern cliffs. McQueen couldn't recall having to deal with any domestic disturbances or DUIs as far as Mr. Ross was concerned, so the man must keep his nose pretty clean. Either that, or the man kept his dirty secrets well under wraps.
Unlike most on the force, McQueen didn't resent the wealthy. Not much, anyway. It wasn't fun to be reminded that a year of his salary couldn't pay for the doorknobs on most of the mansions in the area, but he only had to remind himself that the wealthy were simply people. Their blood was as red as his own, and so he didn't question the validity of the call or hesitate to follow the medics. Mr. Ross's voice had been steady enough as he'd spoken with the dispatcher, explaining that he'd pulled an injured woman from a house fire that had been set by a deranged neighbor.
His partner pulled the car to a hard stop and they followed behind the fire crew who lead the way toward the structure. Two medics came upon a brunette woman unconscious on the walk, and McQueen heard a voice call out to him, "Officer! Over here, please help her!"
McQueen moved further into the shadowed grass and saw them - a man was kneeling over a dazed woman struggling to breath. "I need a medic over here, now!" He bellowed as he rushed to the pair.
He knelt down and tried to catch the man's attention.
"Are you Nolan Ross? Did you call this in?" He asked the younger man.
The man tensed as McQueen reached down to check the woman, who was visibly struggling to breath. "Yes, yes I'm Nolan and - hey, get your hand off her!"
McQueen moved his hands away from Emily, noting the sudden flash in Nolan's eyes. He could hear the EMTs approaching them and addressed the man in a steady voice.
"Sir, my name is James McQueen, I'm a police officer. I need your statement, but first I need you to move back and let the medics do their job, all right?" McQueen asked. "They're here to help your friend."
Clearly, Mr. Ross was in a state of high tension. His posture over the woman and the wild look in his eyes were familiar to the officer. He'd seen the same thing in parents and spouses after a trauma – adrenaline can overwhelm logic when a person is thrown into true danger. Hell, he'd once seen a mother attack a paramedic for starting work on her son after a car wreck.
McQueen eased between Nolan and Emily, just in case the man tried to stop the EMTs from touching her. Thankfully, Nolan stood and moved back.
Two medics moved in, approached them quickly, and Nolan was, once again, made to feel useless as they went to work on Emily. McQueen kept his hand braced against Nolan's chest, keeping him back.
"Mr. Ross, I'll need you to come down with me to the street - we need your statement about what happened here tonight. Do you understand?"
The man took a few steps back, understanding why the officer had separated him from Emily. He moved to give them space, crouching in the grass to watch as the medics laid her flat on her back, turned her head, shined their lights in her eyes, touched her neck and wrist to time her pulse, spoke to her, spoke to each other, spoke into their radios…
"Yes, all right. I can give the statement."
Nolan ran his hand over his face, his stomach twisting with dread. Emily had been breathing on her own when the medics came to her, but it was anyone's guess what Victoria did to her before he had pulled her from the house. Emily wasn't out of danger yet.
He felt sick watching her being touched and prodded by the men, and so turned away to get himself under control. He knew the medics could do worlds more for the woman than he could, but just watching was torture.
They're medics, they can take care of her…I'm no good here, he thought to himself, struggling to reboot his brain from survival-mode and re-engage his critical thinking. Get it together, Nolan. The medics are here to help. I need to talk to the police and tell them it was Victoria who did this. Tell them she attacked Emily and set the fire…Christ, I need a drink!
He rose and staggered down the walkway to give his statement to the other officers who had already made quick work of securing a perimeter. No Grayson was there gawking behind the police tape – a small blessing, he supposed, though there were more than a few neighbors gathering to see what would unfold.
McQueen caught up to him and the man answered every question the officer asked as honestly as the situation would allow, and through it all, Nolan felt as if he was floating, watching the entire scene from a place outside of his own body. He wondered if that was normal.
The lead officer thanked Nolan for his help and commended his actions in saving Emily, but once Nolan had given his statement the police cruiser was quick to disperse, leaving the medics and firefighters to tend to the injured and the house.
His eyes met with Victoria's as she looked out from the backseat window.
He stood there on the pavement and watched as the taillights swept down the street before he sank down to sit on the hood of his car.
Years ago, Victoria had used her wealth and position to condemn an innocent man and destroy a child. Nolan felt ice steel over his heart. He would see to it that woman never saw the sun again.
It was his purpose, he thought distantly, to have been witness to all of this, to have guided Amanda through her vengeance and, now that the awful mess was done with, to bring Emily into a life free of deception.
If she lived through the night.
The man cradled his head in his hands, his thoughts racing.
She has to live, she has to move on from all of this and smile and laugh again, she has to be happy, as happy as she's pretended to be all this time, wearing her happy Hamptonite mask-
"Mr. Ross…?"
-she can't die, not now, not now when she's come so far and we're so close to the end, we almost made it out of this without-
"Mr. Ross?"
Nolan was brought out of his thoughts when he was touched on the shoulder by a small brown hand, the nails neatly filed into buffed ovals. The face that looked down at him was delicate, brown and very concerned. For a moment he mistook her for Ashley.
"She's lucky you were here, sir. Much longer and we'd be searching for a body."
Her accent was more Brooklyn than British.
Nolan looked past her and watched as the other medics loaded Emily's stretcher into the back of the ambulance. "Which hospital are you taking her to?"
"Southampton General. We'll do all we can to stabilize her breathing in the ambulance and then the doctors will take it from there, I'm sure once she's checked out you can take her home." She told him kindly.
Nolan hadn't even thought that far ahead, but yes, he would take her in. No question. "Good, that's good. Go ahead, I'll follow you."
The pretty medic stared at him, "Sir, you need to ride with us."
"I have my car." Nolan said woodenly. He was sitting on the damn thing, after all.
"I don't advise that." She said while she reached for her pen light. Nolan remained still as the woman shined the light into his eyes. "I think you're in shock."
"What're you talking about?"
"Your arm, sir."
Nolan frowned at her, but lifted his left arm and found, to his surprise, that the majority of his left forearm was severely burned, from just under his elbow on to the back of his hand.
"You didn't even notice it, did you?"
Nolan shook his head. No, he hadn't noticed the injury. It took him a moment to find his voice. "I…yes, I'll ride with you."
He followed the medic into the ambulance and tried to stay out of the way while they worked to keep his friend breathing.
The nurses were thankfully generous in dispensing Nolan's painkillers, effectively numbing his arm before they glazed and bandaged it. He grimaced at his injured limb, useless as it was in a shoulder sling and resting against his stomach while he filled out Emily's medical forms. He was glad to be right-handed.
His mind was back to normal now, even if his body was not.
His doctor, Dr. Thorton, had informed him that he'd suffered severe burns but there would be no permanent nerve damage. Again, a small blessing in a night of chaos. Emily had been struck over the head with some blunt object, and the bruising on her ribs, back and stomach showed that she had been kicked. The woman had been lucky not to get burned in the fire, but she had suffered enough smoke inhalation to keep her under several hours' observation.
So there he sat, his body cramped into one of the plastic chairs of the hospital floor's main lobby, a cup of lukewarm coffee - untasted - sitting on the table before him.
The man signed his name, authorizing Dr. Thorton to do any and everything in his power to save Emily's life, keep her stable and make her well again. Nolan didn't trust many people but he trusted this man.
He finished the paperwork but glanced up on hearing a familiar voice rising at the front desk.
"Please, I have to see Emily Thorne – please, I'm her…fiancé!"
The lead nurse at the desk shook her head, her voice firm as she told him, "I'm sorry sir, but unless you're a family member or listed as her next of kin I cannot disclose any information on a patient-"
Nolan stood up and approached. "Daniel?"
Daniel Grayson, the current default head of Grayson Global and the duped boyfriend-turned-fiancé of Emily Thorne, turned around, clearly surprised to see him there.
"Nolan? What're you doing here?"
Nolan shrugged, thinking that his appearance – the black soot dusted over his clothing and skin, not to mention the smell of sweat and fire that still clung to him – should have spoken for itself. He always knew Daniel was a bonehead. "I could ask you the same thing."
Daniel speared frustrated fingers through his hair and huffed, "I woke up when I heard the sirens from the house and saw Emily's place on fire, I – what happened to your arm?"
"What, this?" Nolan shrugged his arm again, so grateful that the painkillers numbed the sting of the wound. "This is nothing. I strained myself playing X-box."
"Nolan Ross?"
"Right here." He called out, raising his good hand.
A young nurse approached him, her teal scrubs a near match in color to his polo - or, they would have been before his shirt took the tour through the fire. "Have you finished with the authorization forms, sir?"
Nolan handed over the clipboard and was immediately handed another with several more sheets attached. Oh joy.
"I'll need your signature here and here sir – oh, and your initials on the third page - stating that you've authorized us to dispense Miss Thorne's medication and her future release into your care." She explained, holding the clipboard and turning the pages for him.
"Thank you…Clarissa." Nolan said, eyeing her nametag. "When can I see her?"
"She's under sedation but I've been informed by Dr. Thorton that you're allowed into her room."
"Why are they giving you Emily's medical information?" Daniel demanded.
Nolan hastily scribbled his signature where the nurse indicated.
"One of the many perks of being listed as her next of kin."
That answer, of course, did not ease Daniel's frustration. "You're her-? What the hell is going on here, you only met her last year!"
Nolan handed the paperwork back to the nurse. He was exhausted, he was filthy and he was in no mood to dance into another convoluted lie for the sake of a Grayson. He'd had enough.
"Daniel, I'd love to answer your questions but it's been a hell of a night. Don't worry, I'll have Emily call you when she's awake. You should call your mother. I'm sure she'll be able to clear things up for you."
He stepped past Daniel, intent to follow the nurse to Emily's room.
"Nolan? What the hell is going on? Nolan!"
Nolan ignored Daniel calling after him as he moved down the corridor.