Comprehension spread over Connie’s face. No more needed to be said.

I rolled my shoulders back once, dispelling the aches settling in them. “So, sedation. Call Montaigne, get a trauma counselor over here, and Monty’ll take care of the paperwork.” County Health has counselors on standby, and so does the police department. Especially in cases like this. “I’ve got to get going.”

Connie nodded and deftly subtracted Molly from Saul. The redhead didn’t want to let go of his arm, and I completely understood. A big guy who looks like Native American romance-novel cheesecake, red warpaint on his high cheekbones? I’d be clinging too.

“Th-thank you.” The almost-victim didn’t even look at me. “F-for everything. I didn’t th-think anyone would b-believe me.”

Considering that her ex-husband had terrorized every woman before he’d killed them, and he’d been a real winner even before Trading, it made sense. If I’d been a little quicker on the uptake, I might’ve been able to save some of the other women as well.

But I couldn’t think like that. I’d done what I could, right?

That never helps. Ever.

“He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” I sounded harsher than I needed to, and she actually jumped. “He’s not going to hurt anyone anymore.”

I expected her to flinch and cower again. God knows I’m hardly ever a comforting sight.

But she surprised me—lifting her chin, pushing her shoulders back. “I sh-should thank you t-too.” She swallowed hard, forced herself to meet my eyes. It was probably uncomfortable—a lot of people have trouble with my mismatched gaze. One eye brown, one blue—it just seems to offend people on a deep nonverbal level when I stare them down.

And like every other hunter, I don’t look away. It’s disconcerting to civilians.

I nodded. “It’s my job, Ms. Watling. I’m glad we got there in time.” Too late for those other women. But take what you can get, Jill. I shifted my attention to Connie. “I need a phone.”