“I’ll get the water.” Connor stood and left the room.
The nurse pulled the blankets back over my lower half, covering my bare legs and this time I was grateful for the blankets. With a promise that she would be back later, the nurse left and it was just me and Nina. She smiled and took the seat Connor vacated. Nina was drawn, dark circles ringed her eyes, her red lipstick faded. She wore a familiar black pantsuit, and her signature gold jewelry. She looked exhausted.
"I was losing my mind at the show last night, when I realized that you were gone. When they told me you were taken, I..." she choked up, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Nina." I'd never seen Nina cry and I was struck that she was so emotional and cared this much about me. I had no idea.
"I'm just so glad you're okay." She took a deep breath and waved her hand in front of her face to quell the emotion.
"Thank you for coming."
"I came as soon as that boy called me."
"Connor called you?"
She nodded. "I was so worried. You're my favorite you know." She patted my hand reassuringly.
"You were right about Caty," I confessed. "I know you never liked her, but I couldn't see it."
"Well, sometimes we learn things the hard way. She was very charming, and manipulative when you weren't looking."
I hated knowing that I hadn't seen what now was so obvious.
"What happened at the show after they took me?"
"Your disappearance was discovered pretty fast. The police locked down the building while they searched. That cute FBI agent was yelling at everyone while we were trying to sort out where you were and what happened. You face was plastered across every media outlet and the entire community is waiting to help you. You're a hero in Charleston."
"I didn't do anything—other than getting kidnapped and nearly killed," I protested.
"It's the news, darling. They dramatize it."
"I'm no hero," I grumbled. "Just need to get out of here and start looking for a job."
"Get well first, and I'll help you get back on your feet. Alexander Campo, may he rest in peace, was just one of many art galleries out there. Plus, you've had lots of publicity here in Charleston; I'm sure you'll be fine."
"Thank you for visiting me, Nina."
"Oh, get some rest, dear. I'll see you in no time." She hugged me gently and left, with more advice on listening to the nurses and sleeping.
Connor returned with a giant cup of water and an extra bottle tucked in his arm. He handed me the Styrofoam cup and I greedily sucked down the contents.
"Thank you," I told him, handing him the cup. "Tell me what happened."
Connor sighed and leaned forward on his elbows and stared at the floor a moment before looking up at me. "I tracked you from the GPS I installed before the show. I looked up, and you were gone. None of the officers saw you leave. I'm so sorry."
"It happened so fast."
"No, I could have prevented it, and I didn't. The operation was iron clad, but shit hit the fan."
"I know, but Connor, it was the only way. They've been dodging you for so long. I went to the bathroom and Stefano was there. He was there in plain view, Connor. Talking to me and Nina about my work. He gave me the creeps, and I wasn't sure if it was him or not, but I wanted to get out of there. I went to the bathroom and he had a gun. They were hunting the both of us. Stefano wanted you dead. I was just bait for you. They tried to lure you somewhere else. How did you find me?"
"I tracked you with the GPS you were wearing, and when I got there, Stefano was dead, and Gianni was nowhere to be seen. I got there in time to see you collapse. Scared the living shit out of me. Gianni Sgambati was arrested on the premises. Caty is in the hospital, under police watch.” He raked both hands through his hair and sighed.
The doctor interrupted us with a quick knock on the door frame. "Good afternoon, folks! Glad to see you're up and awake, Emma! I'm Dr. Stone." An energetic young woman entered the room, closing the door behind her. I did a double take—she was my doctor? Was she old enough? I wanted to ask to see her medical license.
"Hello," I greeted.
"How are you feeling? Your face is looking better."
Alarmed, I looked towards Connor, questioning. What happened to my face? The doctor kept moving, reviewing my chart and listening to my heart.
"Let's have you spend the night, just to be certain there's no other injuries we aren't aware of." She looked up from her file and looked from me to Connor. "It’s good you'll have some help getting around, you'll be hurting for a few weeks while those ribs are healing. I'm prescribing some medication for the pain and an antibiotic to keep any infection away. With a good night's sleep tonight, you are free to go in the morning."
With the doctor gone, I looked over at Connor. "You don't have—"
He held up a hand and cut me off. "I'm not going anywhere, and you need the help." He gave me a piercing look that said he wasn't arguing about it.
"You don't have to, you know. I'm sure I'll be fine on my own." I wasn't sure what happens to us now that the investigation was done, and experience always taught me I was better relying on myself.
"You're going to be dealing with pain and need help getting around. I can help. You don’t have a place to live at the moment, and you’re injured. End of discussion."
"We'll see tomorrow when I can leave," I grumbled. Which led me to another question I didn't know the answer to. "I need to figure out my apartment anyways."
"Alabama." Connor squeezed my free hand until I looked up from the hole I was staring into my lap and met his gaze. "I want to help you. Let me, okay?"
"What happened to my face?"
I watched his reaction to my question, his gaze scanning my face before meeting my eyes. "It's just some bruising. It will heal."
"I want to see." I pushed up to my elbows and gasped with the sharp pain that hit my midsection.
"Easy, Emma!"
"Jesus, I just moved, okay? I want to see for myself." It wasn't easy but with Connor's help I managed to get to a sitting position, leaning heavily into him. He wrapped an arm around my waist and helped to support me to a standing position, then grabbed the IV equipment. It took forever shuffling into the bathroom.
He flipped on the light and stood behind me.
I didn't recognize the person in the mirror. My brown hair—the mousy brown hair I'd moaned about for years—hung limply around my shoulders, matted to my head, dull and lackluster.
One eye was swollen shut. A cheekbone was swollen, and the other side had black stitches across it.
"Oh my god. I look like Frankenstein." I was riveted by the girl-monster in the mirror. I looked beaten up, and I had been, but seeing the evidence was jarring. How could I heal from this damage?
"You look like a survivor," Connor's voice in my ear pulled my attention. "Gorgeous. Alive." His eyes met mine in the mirror. "Let's get you back to bed." Gentle hands guided me, shuffling ever so slowly, back to the hospital bed and helped me in, tucking the covers around my legs like a child.
✽✽✽
He stayed overnight. I tried convincing him I was fine with the nurses checking in on me, that his bed at his house was more comfortable and he didn't have to stay to babysit me. My protests were met with a glare and something sarcastic mumbled under his breath. One of the nurses brought in a pillow and blanket for him, and he propped it on the chair, kicking his feet up on the end of the bed.
The lights in the room were dimmed for the evening and I'd finished the bland hospital dinner. With daylight's exit, so did any remaining bravery I harnessed. I didn't want to be alone. When I closed my eyes, memories from the warehouse would surface. I didn't want to examine the status of our relationship when I knew he would be leaving soon for DC. Neither one of us had brought it up. One more night of avoiding it, I promised myself. Tonight I just needed to be near him.
“Hey.” I patted the space next to me. "Come here."
He looked down at the twin
bed with raised eyebrows and, after removing his jeans, climbed in next to me. "I don't want to hurt you."
"It’s okay. I just have to move slow." Everything hurt to move, but I made space for him to slide in. He slid his arm under my pillow and watching for the IV cords, curled that big body of his next to mine.
We lay in the dim hospital light, silence enveloping us. His warmth and the scent of him comforted me, reminded me how grateful I was to be alive. The heady dose of him next me and the pain medication coursing through my veins lulled me into a dreamless, deep sleep.
Thirty-One
The next morning was chaotic. Connor was everywhere, intercepting the police that came unannounced to talk with me. He agreed to five minutes of questions, in which he assured them I would be happy to answer more when I was feeling better in a day or two. He stayed through the questions the officer asked, and after the agreed five minutes was up and I was getting fatigued, he ended the interview so I could rest. He flirted with the nurses and conferred with the doctor outside my door. I was too easily exhausted to talk more than I had to, but his mere presence was comforting. The doctor had declared I could go home today, advising lots of rest.
I was ready to leave the hospital and go home. But, which home? I hadn't seen since my apartment since it was vandalized. I had come to know Connor's temporary rental as a home too. How could I think of his place as home? Only I would get into my head this much, I groaned to myself. Going home was just a saying, right? Like honey, I'm home. Or let's go home.
"Hey." Connor squatted next to my bedside. "Why don't you take a quick nap? I'm going to grab a quick shower and get you some clothes to wear home."
I nodded in assent, closing my eyes. He squeezed my hand and was gone.
By the time I woke up, he was striding back in my room, a to go tray of coffee in his hands, with a grocery bag. "Ready to break out of this joint?" Freshly showered and wearing a wide grin, I welcomed him with a grin of my own.
"Coffee! How did you know?" I smiled at the cup he handed me, and took a cautionary sip. "I'm so ready to get out of here."
"How do you feel?"
"Not as beaten up as I was yesterday." I cradled the to go cup in my hand and tested the hot coffee on my tongue. Perfect.
He took a seat in the chair next to the bed, settling his coffee on the tray. "I brought breakfast. Biscuits," he announced handing me a wrapped biscuit.
"This is amazing. Thank you." And I meant it. His thoughtfulness was touching. The warm buttered bread and coffee was delicious after the hospital cafeteria meals the nurses had been delivering.
"I found some clothes of yours. Should work." He pulled the clothing out of the plastic bag. "Hopefully I grabbed what you need."
And it was. Just what I felt like wearing. Yoga pants and a tshirt and a sweater cardigan. Comfy clothes. "This is perfect. Thank you. I'd have to go home in the cold naked otherwise since my dress is gone.
"No complaints here," he told me, a smiling playing on his lips. God I would miss seeing that half-smile, I thought with a pang.
"You really don't have to do all this for me. I'm fine going to my apartment, even if we just check to see the state it's in, and I could probably hang there and be fine. I don't want to burden you." I had no idea where we stood. Or if there even was a we. But I didn't want to presume he would take on the responsibility of helping me when he didn't have to.
"Emma, shut up. Anyone who would even agree to that is a jerk. We're going to my house. I can keep an eye on you and help you get around. It's not easy to move with broken ribs. Plus I have better security than you."
I had to admit to myself I felt relieved. After the ordeal of being kidnapped, I wasn't sure I was ready for my apartment. I thought of myself as a survivor, strong and independent, yet my kidnapping was so easy. It had happened in a crowded public place, in front of police officers. I was lucky, I kept reminding myself. Escaping death was sobering. I had killed another person. Most people go their whole lives without committing the ultimate sin, and I'd killed two people. Did it matter that it was self-defense? My chest was heavy with guilt.
✽✽✽
Until I broke my ribs I had no idea how much one uses their core muscles. Climbing into the SUV was futile, and Connor had to lift me inside. Everything hurt.
Sneezing.
Laughing.
Sighing.
Sitting up in bed.
Climbing out of bed.
Standing.
The combination of the brisk chill in the fresh air and bright sunshine were a welcome change to the antiseptic, fluorescent-lit hospital hallways and patient rooms. It was good to be discharged from the hospital.
By the time we arrived to Connor's house, I was grimacing in pain from the slight bumps in the road. He insisted carrying me inside and I was too tired and in too much pain to protest that I could do it myself.
"Bedroom or couch?" His deep voice resonated in his chest, where my ear was currently pressed.
"Couch. Let’s watch a movie." He deposited me gently on the couch. He brought me a blanket and pillow and I promptly fell asleep, movie plans abandoned.
✽✽✽
I woke later, determining that by the gray light outside, that it was sometime in the evening. I really had to pee. After several attempts of pushing myself up, I managed to get on my feet and shuffle to the bathroom, wincing along the way at every sharp pain stabbing in my side.
"I will never, ever take for granted my wimpy muscles," I swore to myself, once I finished my business and washed my hands. "This fucking thing hurts." I opened the door and shuffled down the hall. The house was quiet. I found Connor in his office, working.
"Hey there, Alabama. Good nap?" He grinned and looked up. His face was open, happiness sliding over his features, not the usual guarded wall.
I nodded. "It was. Thank you. For all your help and...well, everything lately."
He closed his laptop and stood, drawing closer. "You don't have to thank me. You'd do it for me, right?" His eyes probed my own for the answer.
When he put it like that, yeah, I would. I realized then I would do anything he asked of me if it meant helping Connor. I nodded, and he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.
"What do you want to do? Hungry? We could call in take out and watch a movie?"
"That sounds good. I was thinking of getting in the bath. The nurse suggested the warm water would help some of the aches go away."
"Abby stopped by while you were sleeping. She brought you a basket of food."
"What?" Someone brought me food?
Connor shrugged. "I don't know. She called it a get well and a welcome home basket. Let me grab it." He returned a minute later with said basket, more appropriate for holding someone's socks and hats in a closet. Abby had tied a pink ribbon around a jar of soup. There were muffins and a loaf of bread. On creamy card stock, cursive handwriting read:
Emma,
Get well and welcome home!
Love,
Abby & Peter
"She brought salad too, but she put it in the fridge. Said something about her not trusting me to do it," Connor said with a wink.
"I can't believe she did this. How sweet." Dumbfounded, I stared at the basket a moment longer before looking up at him.
"She likes you. She wants to get to know you."
"I guess," I mumbled. Internally my heart was swelling with Abby's gesture. Then I remembered the bath. "About the bath, I hate to ask this of you, but could you help me with the getting in part?" Geez, this was humbling. I rushed on. "I mean, I don't want to fall in is all, not trying to get naked or anything," I babbled.
Connor laughed, his eyes sparkling with mirth. I wasn't sure I'd seen him laugh so easily. He smoothly ignored my embarrassment. "Happy to help." He laced his fingers through mine. "Especially if you are naked," he said in my ear. "Let's go."
We made the short trip to the bathroom, moving at a snail's pace to accommodate my sore body. He slipped by me and turned on
the faucet, letting it run to check the temperature and adjust it.
I turned my back to him, unintentionally facing the mirror. I drew in a breath as I looked at myself for the second time since waking up in the hospital yesterday. The bruise over my eye was a dark array of blue and purple. My cheek had a bandage over it and I was eager to take it off and inspect it closer.
"Do you need help with your clothes?"
"No, I can do it."
"I'll give you a minute then."
I peeled off my clothes without too much trouble and wrapped myself in a towel before poking my head out in the hallway. Connor was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and staring at his feet.
"Ready?" He pushed off the wall and followed me in the bathroom.
I clutched the towel to my chest. Not only did I hate asking for help, I needed help naked.
"Emma, you have to take that towel off if you're getting in," Connor's voice was at my ear again, sending heat to places it had no business going.
"You can't look," I shot over my shoulder, staring at the tub in front of me.
"Like I haven't seen you naked and licked every inch of your body,” he chuckled. “But I won't look. Promise."
I ignored his sarcasm and dropped the towel. I could not look at him right now. My face burned.
Warm hands gripped my elbows and I took a step in. The water was piping hot and he'd thoughtfully added bubbles.
"Other foot now. I've got you." He was so close I could have leaned back into his chest.
I crouched forward out of modesty, lowering myself into the tub. "Thank you."
Connor leaned over to help me lie back, so I didn't have to rely on my abdominal muscles. "Thank you," I breathed, closing my eyes and sighing.
"I'll check on you in a bit." I didn't see him leave but heard the door close behind him.
I was grateful to be alone with my thoughts. The warehouse and my kidnappers had scared the living daylights out of me. I was done with crying as it had cleansed some of the emotions from the ordeal, but I still felt raw. I was relieved to be back at Connor's house. It wasn't home, but it was the safest place I had for now. How would I get my life back? At my first major show, I'm kidnapped and beaten...and the good Lord only knew how much worse it could have been if Connor hadn't found the warehouse in time.
The Art of Murder Page 19
