by Angie Martin
When Rachel’s physical condition stabilized after two days in the ICU, she moved into a private room in the oncology unit. Agent Eli Jackson, the FBI agent in charge of their case, determined it was best to keep her in an area where no one would think to find her. There was a short list of nurses and doctors allowed in her room, and deviation from that list was not tolerated for any reason.
Agent Jackson didn’t anticipate any problems, but he made it clear he would not take chances. Besides the constant FBI presence outside her room, two FBI agents stayed in the motel room next to Mark’s. His room was wired so they could listen in around the clock, and he was monitored from afar by another two agents at all times. Other plainclothes agents took turns wandering the main floor and parking structure of the hospital, watching for anything out of the ordinary.
Mark ignored the FBI’s necessary intrusion on their lives. He spent every waking hour with Rachel, and stayed with her well beyond visiting hours. Had he been able to spend each night in her room on a cot, he would have done so, but her doctors advised against it. They wanted her to get lots of rest so she could heal.
As her body started bouncing back, the deep emotional damage surfaced. Because she was drugged at the time she tried to kill herself, her primary doctor did not require her to stay in the psychiatric unit. Instead, he insisted she speak to a psychologist during her hospital stay. Rachel refused to talk to anyone alone, and Mark listened for hours as she reluctantly described years of abuse to the psychologist.
The stories of what she went through devastated Mark. He never allowed himself to break down in front of her, but after she talked about the whip for the first time, he retreated to his motel room and cried. As she relayed those four years of her life, he thought about what he had been doing with his own life while she was suffering. He wished he knew she was out there so he could have saved her back then.
Having known nothing different, Rachel struggled with thinking of herself as a victim. From working at domestic violence shelters, she knew all the terminology, yet she never applied any of it to herself. Until the time she met Mark, she believed she deserved everything that had happened to her. Their relationship gave her a different perspective on what love was supposed to be, but to a certain extent, she still thought she received just punishment.
The scars on her back were the most difficult for her to discuss. Learning the scars would never disappear was a source of great anguish, and she expressed that Mark wouldn’t want her since she had been branded by another man. While the psychologist worked to help her understand the scars were not a symbol of ownership, all Mark could do was hold her hand and assure her that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what scars she had.
After several hours of talking to the psychologist over the course of two days, the psychologist walked with Mark to get some coffee. She explained Rachel would quite possibly need years of counseling to help her sort through both what had been done to her and the things she had done. That Rachel didn’t want to talk to anyone without Mark present made the psychologist believe that he was the most important part of her recovery. Rachel already associated him with a healthy relationship, with love and happiness.
The road ahead would be more than difficult, but as Mark listened to her controlled breathing while she peacefully slept, he knew he would do whatever it took to save her. He kissed her forehead, held her hand, and waited for her to wake up.
Chapter Sixty-eight
Rachel smiled before she was fully awake. Another night had come and gone without dreaming, the fourth night in a row. She never wanted to dream again, and prayed all of her nightmares were gone for good.
Aware of Mark holding her hand, she opened her eyes. The smile remained despite her fear for him. He should have left the second both the police and FBI released him from questioning, yet he kept coming back. Didn’t he understand the danger he was in? Was he not aware that every second he spent with her, he put himself at risk?
Of course Mark knew. He knew and he understood, just as Danielle and Jonathan both had. The risks hadn’t stopped either of them from being a part of her life, and they were both gone.
She’d had ample time to mourn Jonathan in the three years since his murder, but the familiar pain that accompanied thoughts of Danielle pierced Rachel’s heart. She couldn’t keep Danielle safe, and even with the constant presence of the FBI, there were no guarantees of Mark’s safety. Though she wanted him to run far away from her so he would be out of Donovan’s crosshairs, she couldn’t deny she loved knowing he was there with her. If he chose to stay, she wasn’t about to push him out of her life.
Mark smiled at her and brushed her hair away from her forehead. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, his voice filled with strain and exhaustion.
“Much better,” she said. “I’m ready to get out of this place for good.”
“Not quite yet,” he said. “Maybe a couple more days, and then we’ll go home.” He gestured toward her almost full tray of cold breakfast food. “We’ll need to fatten you back up when we get you there, since you seem to have labeled everything they serve you as inedible.”
Rachel laughed. “I could definitely use some of your cooking about now,” she said. She appreciated that he still tried to cheer her up every day. In those moments, he looked like ordinary Mark, but no amount of showering, shaving, or scrubbing could erase the haggard edge in his eyes, and the jaded gleam they projected. His eyes reflected everything she couldn’t see, the things that caused her heart to break.
“Danielle’s memorial service is on Tuesday morning,” he said. “We shouldn’t have any problems making it back to Kansas in time.”
“Thank you for taking care of the arrangements for me,” she said. Minutes passed as they sat in silence. There were so many subjects they avoided over the past few days. After her condition stabilized, she bared her soul to the psychologist with Mark in the room. He provided the safety net of support that she needed to open up about her life.
Yet as soon as the buffer of the psychologist disappeared, they stopped talking about what happened. There were a lot of other things to keep their minds busy, and it was easy to avoid what needed to be said.
The events at the estate gnawed at her insides, and Rachel could no longer internalize her thoughts and emotions. There was one topic they mutually avoided from the start. “Mark,” she said, “I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
“We agreed not to discuss it.”
“I don’t care. I have to tell you. Those things I said to you at the estate weren’t true. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t love you and that I wanted to stay there.”
“I know, Rachel,” he said. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to explain yourself.”
“But I do have to explain myself. It killed me, and it still does now, but I had to say all those horrible things to you. I was scared if I didn’t, he would know. If he found out how important you were to me, I don’t know what he would have done to you. And I just...just couldn’t...” Her eyes stung and she blinked away the forming tears. The words flowed from her lips unchecked. “I couldn’t go through what he did to me before. I can’t do that again and—”
Mark jumped up from his chair and sat on the bed, facing her. “Rachel, stop, please.” He placed his hand over hers and caressed her skin. “Don’t think about that now. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you.” He drew her into his arms and held her until her tears stopped.
She pulled away from him and wiped her face with her fingers. Shame crept over her cheeks. She had broken down in front of him so much in the past few days, and she hated herself for burdening him. “I’m sorry, Mark. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize, Rach. You don’t ever have to apologize for anything ever again. I understand why you said what you did, and I don’t want you to worry about it anymore. You only did what you thought was necessary to help us both.”
Though he fell silent, she could tell there was more he wanted to s
ay, more he wanted to know. Over the past few days, he always stopped speaking before the question left his tongue, but she knew what he was thinking.
She moistened her lips and tucked her hair behind her ear with a shaky hand. “I know you think I should have killed Donovan, but I can’t kill anyone, no matter who it is. That’s not who I am now and I never want to be that person again.”
“I never asked you to be, but I can still wish he was dead.”
She looked away, knowing that if it was up to Mark, they would skip an investigation and trial, and go straight for the death penalty. Rachel changed the subject. “The prosecutor is coming by this afternoon.”
“He called me in the middle of the night.” His hand tightened around her hand and he locked his eyes on hers. “Rachel, they’re handing everything over to the FBI.”
Rachel’s brow furrowed. “I thought Paul was talking to the prosecutor and they were moving forward with charges.”
Mark paused, and his expression became solemn. “Apparently Paul changed his mind. The prosecutor said he’s pleading guilty to Jonathan’s murder, but he’s not talking about King at all.”
The news unnerved her. Though she knew Paul had his reasons, the prosecutor said that if he didn’t testify against Donovan, they wouldn’t afford him any leniency on Jonathan’s murder. Paul would spend the rest of his life behind bars.
“The only thing they have now is you, but the FBI wants both King and Graham Wilkes. Once they have all the evidence, they’ll talk about throwing in what happened to you as well.”
Rachel knew what he trying to tell her. “They let him go?”
“He was released right after midnight,” Mark said. “But the FBI will be watching him and us at all times. They won’t let him get near either one of us.”
Despite having FBI protection to help keep them both safe, Rachel’s flesh turned cold. The knowledge of Donovan’s freedom made her anxiety climb. Though Donovan’s methodical, logical side would keep him in check and wouldn’t allow him to try something while the FBI was investigating him, unless he was in prison, they weren’t safe. “What happened to the kidnapping charges?”
“He has witnesses. Twelve people, including Graham Wilkes, say he was in a meeting in Los Angeles that evening.”
She placed her hand over her mouth. With Donovan running around and his connections to Wilkes, they may never be safe no matter how much protection the FBI provided. The feds had to get him on something so he would be locked away. “I take it they haven’t found Danielle yet,” Rachel said.
“Rach, the police back home don’t believe there was a murder. Your house is clean. No bloodstains, fingerprints, nothing. Not even evidence of bleach being used to clean up. Agent Jackson believes me, but he had techs go over the house twice and couldn’t find any evidence. With no body and no evidence, there’s nothing he can do. I don’t know how King did it, but it makes me doubt what I saw.”
Rachel grimaced. “Graham Wilkes, that’s how he did it. Between him and Donovan, anything can be accomplished. I’m sure they had everything planned out well in advance. They probably replaced the carpeting and all of the furniture to be sure no evidence was left behind.” She hesitated, unsure how Mark would react to her next statement. “I want to see Paul.”
“I know you do,” he said, “but I don’t know if they will let you right now. We can ask the prosecutor this afternoon. As far as everything else goes, the FBI is on our side, so don’t dwell on it.”
Rachel had tried for days not to dwell on it, to no avail.
Mark lifted her chin. “Rachel, ever since I’ve known you he’s been there in the back of your mind. You were always wondering where he was and if he knew where you were and if he was going to find you. He’s controlled your thoughts, your actions, your feelings. I want to be with you and know it’s just you and me.”
The accuracy of his words frightened her and she tried to shut them out of her mind. They were too much of a reminder that Mark deserved better. She pulled her hands into her lap and scratched at the bandage around her IV. “I know the FBI will do everything they can, but I’m still afraid.”
“Don’t be afraid.” Mark put his hands over hers. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore, Rachel. I’ll be with you every second, doing everything I can to make it easy for you. We’re going home in a few days, and you and I are going to live a normal life. We’ll ignore the FBI watching us and we’ll forget about the bruises and broken bones. Maybe together we can make this nightmare end.”
Rachel met his eyes. The determination in his voice told her he meant every word he said. She relaxed a bit, knowing that in his arms, she would finally find sanctuary.
“Agent Jackson also called last night,” Mark said.
Agent Eli Jackson had taken a personal interest in their case, and had gone above and beyond his duties as an FBI agent, swearing to them both that he would keep them safe and find a way to put Donovan in prison for life. Every time she spoke to him, Rachel felt a little better about their situation.
“What did he call about?” Rachel asked.
“He spoke to Cory Thomas, and the family won’t accept your offer to give the money back.”
“No, he has to convince them,” she said. The one thing she wanted out of the whole ordeal was to return the remaining money to Jonathan’s family where it belonged. “Cory has to take it. I never felt right about having it in the first place.”
“Cory refuses to take it. He considers it one of Jonathan’s last wishes. But he does want to come to the hospital tomorrow so he can meet you. He’s driving down in the morning.”
Rachel knew a visit from Cory could prove too much for Mark. He already struggled with Jonathan’s role in her escape from the estate three years ago. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “That might be difficult for you and—”
“Rachel, you don’t have to protect me,” he said. “Jonathan did nothing but try to help you. Honestly, I...” He took a deep breath. “I wish I could thank him for that. As for Cory, he wants closure.”
“We all want that,” Rachel said.
“It’s a good idea for him to come, for all of us. I’m sure the psychologist will agree. Cory deserves to hear directly from you how much Jonathan helped, and I think you need to meet him so you’ll stop blaming yourself for Jonathan’s death. Agent Jackson also said that as far as the money goes, you don’t have to worry about the IRS knocking on your door,” Mark said. “Apparently Cory is influential about these things.”
“Mark, thank you for taking care of all of this. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“I’m just relaying the messages,” Mark said. He snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. I brought you something.” Mark picked up a gift bag from the floor and set it on his lap.
Rachel eyed the bag suspiciously. “What is that?”
“A couple of little things Agent Jackson helped me get for you.” With a large smile, he reached into the bag and pulled out a small, white box.
Rachel accepted the box and lifted the lid. Inside was a rectangular paper the size of a business card. She stared at the card and read it several times before comprehending what it was. She looked up at Mark. “It’s a social security card,” she said.
“Not any social security card. That’s your social security card.”
She looked back at the card. The name she was given at birth, Rachel Renee Pettis, was printed in the middle of the card in all uppercase letters, along with a social security number above it. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“You might not like it much once you have to start paying taxes like the rest of us,” Mark said. “Agent Jackson is also getting your birth certificate. When we get home, one of our first trips will be to the DMV so you can get a real driver’s license. There’s no need to change names anymore, no need to pretend you’re someone else. You have your own identity now.”
Rachel wiped the tears from her eyes before they got too far
down her face. To most, it was a card to number them among the masses. For Rachel, it was a return to the world. The card made her a real person, not a gust of wind blowing about and disappearing without anyone noticing. She wished Danielle was here to see it. “You have no idea what this means to me,” she said.
“There’s one more thing,” he said, and handed her the bag.
She reached underneath the tissue paper and pulled out a framed photograph. Behind the glass was an engagement announcement from an old newspaper. She didn’t need to read the words underneath the photograph box to know who the people in the picture were.
“You told me you didn’t remember what your parents look like.” He pointed to the picture. “I know it’s only a newspaper clipping, but it was all we could find.”
Rachel touched the glass over the couple locking hands in front of an oak tree. Her dad could have been Paul’s twin, only smaller in stature. Paul told her years ago that she looked like her mother, and he was right. Other than her father’s eyes, her mother had passed on the rest of the genes to Rachel. They shared the same face and hair, the same crooked smile.
“Is it okay?”
Rachel lifted her eyes. “It’s perfect, Mark. It’s more than perfect.” She laid the picture down in her lap. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to her. Her arms wrapped around him and she set her head down on his shoulder. “You’re perfect,” she whispered. “I love you so much, Mark.”
He tightened his hold on her. “I love you, too.” Mark let go of her and squeezed her hand. “Now, let’s get you healthy again so we can go home,” he said, giving her a tired smile.
Rachel leaned over and kissed him, a single thought dominating her mind.
