The Deadly Series Boxed Set

by Jaycee Clark

  “I don’t know.” A visage of Jessie’s face flashed in his mind, bloody and deathly pale. “I want this bastard found.” He bit out.

  “And when he is?” Ian asked.

  Truth or lies? Truth. “I want to kill him with my bare hands. Slowly.”

  “Well, if he’s found, that can always be arranged.” His brother cleared his throat. “Give me twenty-four hours to find something out. I’ll call you tomorrow at this time.”

  “That’s fine.” Aiden somehow knew that Ian could find out things no one else could. Probably in unorthodox ways. Aiden didn’t give a damn.

  “Where are you again?” Ian’s question pulled Aiden’s thoughts back to the conversation.

  “Colorado.” He filled him in on the particular location.

  “Hmm . . . They have a state level sort of FBI. Actually, it comes up that a certain Chief of Police has already requested their assistance in this case.”

  That was a surprise. And how had Ian found that out this damn quick?

  “Dare I inquire how you know that?”

  Another gravelly chuckle was his answer. “I have all sorts of toys.”

  “I’ll just bet you do. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Tomorrow.”

  “I owe you,” Aiden told his brother over the phone.

  “Well, perhaps one day you can repay. For your sake, we’ll hope not.” The smile in Ian’s voice almost had Aiden returning it, but he couldn’t.

  The line went dead.

  The sky overhead was still inky black with no sign of clearing off. A light mist started to fall again. On a curse, Aiden hurried back into the hospital. The doors whooshed closed behind him. His strides paced him down the line of chairs and back up. Finally, he sat down in the chair he’d vacated earlier.

  He wearily ran his hands over his face and leaned forward. Elbows dug sharply into his knees as he rested his forehead on his clasped hands.

  Thank God, he’d gotten hold of Ian.

  The speckled beige linoleum glared back at him. The Hispanic woman started in on another Hail Mary. At least, he thought that’s what it was.

  “Aiden?” He lifted his head as his mother crouched before him, lacing her fingers to cup his knee.

  “Mom, you and Dad should really head back, get some rest.” It was almost one in the morning for God’s sake.

  She merely quirked a brow at him. “That, dear, is a stupid thing to say.” Her gentle reprimand pulled a small smile from him. “I wanted you to know, the boys will be here in the morning, early, probably.”

  “The boys?”

  “Your brothers. Your father called them during the search and told them to get their asses here, that you needed them.”

  He moved his hands to cover hers and sighed. “I wish he hadn’t done that.”

  “Why? Kinncaids stick together, or have you forgotten?” His mother’s eyes studied him, and she rubbed the back of his hand absently.

  Aiden shook his head. “No, I haven’t forgotten. How are they getting here so fast?”

  She smiled. “Your father sent Rodger home with the jet this morning when we got here. Bray wanted to fly up to Maine or something.” Her hand waved absently. “They were coming anyway in two days, they’ll just be coming a little early.”

  “What do you mean Jessie hasn’t woke up yet?” The deep resonating voice brought Aiden’s head around, and he saw his father, his arms crossed over his massive chest, talking with Tim.

  His mother said, “Do you honestly think he’s going to go home? He’s worried about you, about Jesslyn. For all his bluster, I think he actually likes her. I told him he needed to rest. With all the excitement today, it would be good for him to lie down.”

  Aiden smiled at the thought. “I see he listened.”

  His mother’s dimple peeked out. “You know your father.” Her voice lowered, her smile eased away. “He said he wasn’t there for you when you needed him before, and he was damn well going to be here for you now. Please don’t be too hard on him, Aiden, he’s being hard enough on himself.”

  “For what?” Aiden asked.

  “For not supporting you completely when you called off the wedding to Brice, for taking her word over that of his own son, explanation or no. His words not mine, by the way.”

  “And he wonders why he has high blood pressure? The man worries too damn much.” A huge breath puffed out.

  For a moment, neither spoke. His mother cleared her throat.

  “Things have been hectic and we haven’t really talked. Honey, do you know what happened? Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. “I know you found her and she’s in serious condition. I know too from what the doctor has told me that someone inflicted her head wound with a long, dull instrument.”

  Aiden’s stomach rolled at her words. His father walked towards them, and the chair squeaked when his father lowered his considerable build into it.

  For a moment Aiden couldn’t speak. In his mind he saw Jessie curled up, her lips blue, the blood staining her face and neck. His eyes never left his mother’s. A muscle bunched in his jaw.

  “She was so cold, Mom. So cold, I thought she was dead when I touched her and everything in me just stopped.” He didn’t see his mother, only saw Jessie, hurt and alone. He told her how he’d found Jessie, and where, amazed still he hadn’t stepped on her. “He cut . . .” Aiden stopped, cleared his throat and shook his head. “He—the son of a bitch cut her across her throat, not deep, but it’s there.” Rage conquered the fear. “The bastard hit her with something, the whole side of her face was bloody.” Aiden bit down.

  “This I’ll defend,” he murmured. “Great damn job I did. They haven’t even let me see her since they loaded her into the ambulance.”

  He needed to pace, but without toppling his mother over, he didn’t know how to extricate himself. Aiden wanted to see Jesslyn and he wanted to see her now.

  His father cleared his throat, coughed and cleared it again. Aiden felt his father’s hand on his arm. He looked at him, saw the weariness in his father’s eyes, the lines more haggard than he remembered. Jock’s flaming blue eyes bore into him.

  “Son, this is not your fault. I don’t want to hear something that stupid again. I raised an intelligent man. One more intelligent than myself, it seems. Now quit beating yourself up and concentrate on Jesslyn.”

  Aiden really hated when his father used that don’t-give-me-that tone of voice, usually because it was honest and made sense. Concentrate on Jessie? What the hell had he been doing?

  Instead of the terse remark that immediately came to mind, Aiden found himself saying, “I can’t lose her, Dad.” Aiden shook his head. “I just can’t lose her.”

  A squeeze of hand from his mother and a slap on the shoulder from his father. The entire evening seemed surreal.

  “Mr. Kinncaid?”

  “Yes?” came two male replies.

  A short, balding man in blue scrubs gave a tired smile. “Travel in pairs, huh? Usually do in this place. I’m Dr. Williams.”

  Aiden, along with everyone else, stood. He stared at the doctor, waited to see what he was going to tell them.

  “Why don’t we all sit down?” The doctor gestured to the chairs.

  “Why don’t you just spit it out?” Aiden said. He’d had enough. “I want to see Jesslyn. Now.”

  The doctor merely raised a brow at him. “I understand your anxiety, Mr. Kinncaid. Let me say that Jesslyn is stable, all her readouts are well. We were initially concerned with her EKG.” He waved a hand absently and clarified, “Her heart beat. Ms. Black’s body core temperature was low enough that we were worried about several things. However, the transport went well, no real jostling before the blood started flowing good again. Actually, her body core temp, though low, wasn’t as bad as we thought. Once on heated, moist oxygen—which, by the way, she’s still on—her temp rose and some of the worries decreased. We’re also giving her warm IV fluids. Her temperature is almost back to normal. So, as far as the
hypothermia goes, we’re pretty much out of the woods on that one.” The diminutive man rubbed the back of his head.

  “When can I talk to her, Doctor?” Aiden glanced to see who’d asked the question, Chief Garrison.

  “You won’t be, Chief.” The doctor’s tone brooked no argument. “Right now our biggest concern is the head wound. Ms. Black suffered from a concussion, slight swelling and a little hemorrhaging. The bleeding stopped a while ago, the swelling is going down. However, all that said, she still hasn’t woken up. The longer she’s unconscious, the more likely . . .” He trailed off, frowned as three high notes whistled from the beeper clipped to his drawstring pants. Looking down, he punched a button.

  “The more likely what?” Aiden bit out, almost at the end of his patience.

  “Oh, sorry. Well, in cases like this there is often memory loss either of the accident itself or of events prior to. Between the head wound, shock, and hypothermia, I wouldn’t be surprised if when Ms. Black wakes up, she’s fuzzy or blank about certain things.”

  Aiden sighed, relief slowly starting to trickle through him.

  The doctor wasn’t finished. “Having said that, I think you should also be aware that it’s possible Ms. Black could slip into a coma. I don’t think it’s likely, but it is possible.”

  Aiden’s heart dropped. No, she was not going to slip into a coma. He’d be damned if she would.

  He crossed his arms, chewed on the inside of his cheek. “When is the neurologist getting here?”

  Dr. Williams checked his watch and shrugged. “Should be anytime now. He was flying in the chopper, not driving. They flight lifted another patient earlier in the evening to St. Mary’s so he’s catching a ride back.”

  “I want to see her now.”

  The doctor looked at him with a raised brow. “Are you family?”

  Aiden silently played through the consequences of decking the little know-it-all. He stared at the doctor. “I will be.”

  The doctor nodded, smiled. “Figured it was something like that. Come on back with me.”

  • • •

  The room was quiet save for the soft almost silent bleep of the heart monitor. The shuffle of feet beyond the wide door, muffled voices, and the clatter of rolling carts intruded periodically. The small but sprawling hospital was more modern than he had at first credited it being.

  Aiden stood, staring out the window. Dawn was breaking, the sky turning a brighter blue, the pink and lavender bottomed clouds a contrast to the covering slate gray otherwise. More rain dripped off the eave. He rubbed his hand through his hair again, looked back at the bed.

  Jessie still hadn’t woken up. She looked so small and frail in the big hospital bed, her face pale against the purple bruise peeking out from under the edge of the bandage on her head. Her glorious hair lay lackluster on the white pillow, some of the strands still matted with mud and blood. IVs dripped into her arm, hung from metal-curled loops on a stand by the bed, and the transparent tubes glistened with slow-moving liquid. Blankets were tightly tucked up under her chin, covering her from neck to toes. The fogged oxygen mask still sat over her nose and mouth.

  Anxiety and worry crawled through him. Aiden couldn’t sit, or stand still, and the room was too small to pace. He’d rubbed her hand through the blankets, not wanting her to get the slightest chill. There had been whispered pleas, furious demands and silent prayers. And still she lay as quietly as when he’d walked into the room hours ago following Dr. Williams.

  The neurologist had not added much past what Dr. Williams had imparted. They were all waiting on Jesslyn to open her eyes. No one knew exactly when that would be, but the sooner the better. Nurses came and went. They took her blood pressure, read the little square box on the IV stand, turned dials, and punched buttons.

  Aiden sat in the chair he’d pulled up by the bed. Tim had finally taken his parents home, but Mom sent some of his and Jessie’s things in a duffel bag. The jeans, tee and sweatshirt, were clean and dry. He was exhausted.

  His brothers should be arriving soon. Mom told him Gavin planned to come directly to the hospital—always the doctor. They’d also gotten hold of Mr. Victor Black, Jesslyn’s father. He was going to be on the first flight that landed here in Gunnison at eight this morning.

  Aiden leaned his forehead on the blanket, knew her hand was right against his head. For the hundredth time he sent a prayer up, and hoped it was heard.

  Chapter 18

  The world was white all around her. She’d been so very, very cold before. Jesslyn couldn’t remember why, but the cold was deep within her, almost buried her beneath its claiming fingers.

  She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. The air was bright, so bright she squinted. A soft breeze carried the heady scents of flowers.

  The rock Jesslyn sat on was a large slab of limestone. A butterfly flitted by her arm, a bright yellow gossamer flutter. She looked up, tried to follow it in the enveloping light.

  “It’s about time you joined me.”

  Jesslyn jerked her head around. There beside her sat Jerrod, his wavy blond hair ruffled in the wind. The light shot off the golden tresses like glinting topaz. His light eyes, forever lost in that color where the blue sky met the grassy horizon, danced in merriment.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

  He shrugged, dressed in a flowing white shirt, white pants, and bare feet. The smile he gave her was so familiar she felt a tug of wistfulness for what might have been.

  “Now there’s no point in that,” he told her, reading her thoughts.

  She always forgot how Jerrod simply knew what she was thinking in this dream world.

  “What is, is,” he said. “And what can be, can.” His leg swung back and forth from the height of the rock.

  Jesslyn glared at him. In this realm their thoughts could fly, be spoken or not, and still be read. The fact Jerrod did the whole telepathic thing very well aggravated her and earned a hearty chuckle from him.

  “You’re still the same Jesslyn. So impatient. Always thirsting for knowledge so you can understand everything. Many things simply cannot be understood, just accepted.” He pulled his other leg up and draped his arm on it.

  “I hate when you do that. Can’t you at least allow me the illusion of keeping secrets from you?” She leaned back onto her palms flattened against the cool stone.

  His warm smile settled over her. “There are no secrets here.”

  “Where is here?” She looked out, saw only white, pristine and untouched except by the occasional butterflies.

  “In between,” he answered.

  “In between what?” She loved seeing him in dreams, but the riddles drove her nuts.

  “Everything.” Jerrod shrugged. “Sleep and awake, cold and heat, light and dark, life and death.”

  Her mind couldn’t comprehend all that.

  A tingle of apprehension skittered in her stomach.

  He stared at her for a moment. His eyes almost jeweled in their sparkle. Peace and contentment spread through her. He swept his arm aside. Before them, the white wall parted, and she saw darkness. Reds and blues flashed through the night, rain fell and the distant rumble of thunder echoed.

  A chill ran up her spine and she looked at Jerrod. “What is this?”

  “An answer to your question. A window, if you will.”

  She saw people surrounding something on the ground, heard a familiar voice. Aiden.

  Aiden’s voice carried to her, full of relief and something she couldn’t name. “I knew you were here, baby. Everything’s going to be all right now. You’re safe, Jesslyn. You’re safe. I promise. No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

  That was her on the ground, she realized with shock. Aiden held her hand.

  The window started to fade at the edges, blend into the surrounding white.

  “No, wait,” she grabbed Jerrod’s arm. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  “Right now, that isn’t as important as what you
want to do.”

  Again, Jesslyn looked back at the man she had loved with everything in her, the man part of her would always love.

  His head lowered a fraction, his voice softened. “That’s as it should be, Jesslyn. Love is eternal,” he said as he read her thoughts.

  Jerrod sighed, put his hand on hers. “It no longer matters what could have been, but what can be. You’ve passed through the darkest night and found the dawn again. Are you going to run from it? Let fear and memories keep you only in a world of limbo? Not quite day, but not yet night?”

  Her brow furrowed as she realized what he said. “Do you like him?” she asked.

  His slow straight smile. “Yes, I do. He’s a good man. Honorable. Trustworthy, and it’s killing him to see you like this.” Jerrod pointed back to the window.

  Aiden sat in a room with chairs, his head hung wearily on his hands, his arms draped over his knees. He seemed so lost.

  Jesslyn glanced back at Jerrod. His bright eyes bore into hers and she felt he could see into her very soul.

  “Not quite no, only He can see into souls.”

  She let out a huff. “Will you quit doing that?”

  His eyes twinkled merrily, then sobered. “You must decide what you want. You asked God ‘why,’ for reasons, and for justification for so long. He left you for a reason, but now it is your choice.”

  “What do you mean my choice?”

  He smiled a secret smile. “There are still rough times ahead, doubt it not. But there are wonderful surprises in store.”

  She thought for a moment. What he’d said was true. For years she’d wished she had died in the accident with her family, but no . . .

  “Where are Hannah and Holden?” Usually they were all together.

  “This isn’t their time.”

  Jesslyn felt a sort of parting at Jerrod’s words.

  “This is good-bye, isn’t it?” She knew it was, in some deep part of her.

  “That is up to you. But since I know you’re going back, then yeah, it is.”

  “But why?” She didn’t like the thought of having to let him go again.