Chapter Thirty-Two
The rain stopped almost as quickly as it started. Thirty minutes after the heavens opened, they closed again. The oppressive closeness of the last few days was gone though, and it finally felt like I could take a breath.
Shortly after Darcey had attempted to take her own life, the twentieth floor of the Chelsea Hotel filled with bustling paramedics, cops, and a few remaining SWAT officers. I was standing in the living room of the apartment with Mickey when one of the paramedics stepped in hurriedly.
“I just thought you should know,” he said, “that all we can tell for certain is that the bullet entered her skull. It likely grazed her brain at least, but even if she makes it out of this, there’s probably been so much damage done that she’ll have a long road to recovery
