“Madison?” Connor prompted.
“My mind just drifted. But I guess as long as people are killing each other…”
Connor crossed her long, slender legs. “We’ve discussed how important it is that you take care of yourself, Madison.”
“I know.”
“Are you?”
“I’m doing my best.” Not a lie. She had gone to see Talmadge. But if she were really taking care of herself, she’d make time to rest and eat nutritional food at regular intervals, instead of leaving both things to chance.
“Share with me, please.” Connor gestured with her gold pen.
“I just saw my family doctor before coming here.”
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing. I’m sure I’m fine. I already feel better.”
“How were you feeling?”
“Sick. Off and on. Mostly on for several days.”
“I see.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“We’ve discussed this before, but when we don’t properly process our emotions, they can surface as physical ailments. An easy example is stress. It often can give someone a kink in their neck or back pain. Most of us have been there before.”
“Yep.” Sergeant Winston gave her a headache every time she saw him.
Connor went on. “The guilt you mentioned feeling over your sister’s abduction could be wreaking havoc. Making you feel ill…”
“I don’t think it’s about that.”
“So you feel all better about the abduction? Don’t feel it’s your fault any longer?”
“I never said that.”
Connor laid out both her hands, palms up, as if to say, See?
“I accept that I had a reason for doing what I did, for investigating the Mafia,” she said, stamping down her feelings of regret that still crackled in her veins. “Chelsea is fine, is going to be more than fine.”
“And what about you?” Connor’s question sank like a weight on a bungee cord, due to fling up at any minute. “You had to kill a man,” she said softly.
“It was self-defense.” She hugged the pillow tighter. “Necessary.” Something she never told anyone, not even Troy, was when it came to killing Constantine, she felt no regrets, no remorse. She was simply numb, indifferent, devoid of all emotion.
Connor held eye contact for a few seconds, then smiled reservedly. “It seems that you are feeling better.”
“I am.” Madison relaxed, but she wasn’t fooled by Connor’s new approach. The doctor was hoping Madison would let her guard down and start opening up about her feelings.
The clock on the wall ticked off the seconds, and Madison heard each one.
Connor uncrossed her legs. “How is your relationship with Troy?”
The question hit as a blow. “Fine.”
Connor’s lips twitched as if she was about to smile, but she didn’t. “If I took away that word, how would you describe it?”
Madison smiled, though she doubted it touched her eyes. “Tense. At the moment.”
“Why’s that?”
She hugged the pillow tighter again but ended up tossing it to the end of the couch. “I thought he was going to propose a few weeks ago, but he didn’t. Still hasn’t.”
“A few weeks ago? That was around the time of Cynthia’s wedding, wasn’t it?”
On her last visit, Madison had mentioned the upcoming nuptials. “Yeah. I actually thought he was going to ask that night.”
“Do you want to marry him?”
“Of course I—” She snapped her mouth shut.
Connor grinned. “Have you asked him what he thinks of marriage?”
“I know he was burned by his first wife. She cheated on him, and he swore off marriage.”
“But you think that’s changed?”
Madison met Connor’s gaze and nodded.
“What makes you think that?”
“I found a ring.”
“Oh.” A tiny word drawn out like it was four feet long.
“Yeah, and it’s beautiful. I think he was going to propose, and he’s changed his mind.”
“Have you asked him about the ring?”
“I don’t even know where to start.” Truth: she wasn’t sure her fragile heart could handle it if she brought up marriage and he shot her down. God, she hated being vulnerable!
“How about starting with, ‘I found…’”
Madison shook her head. “He’d hate that. I know him well enough. He’d view it as a violation of his privacy.”
“Okay, but may I ask, how do you know he doesn’t still plan to ask? You did find the ring. Say, if he was going to propose but changed his mind altogether, why keep it? He would have returned it or pawned it, but from what I gather, he hid it.”
“In a box in the laundry closet.”
“Just going out on a limb here, but I’m guessing that’s not someplace you would ordinarily go?”
“No.” Madison smiled, not offended but rather impressed her shrink knew her so well. “You think he still plans to propose?”
“I don’t have the answer to that.” Connor smiled kindly, a twinkle in her eye.
What if Connor was right and he still did plan to propose? She’d been so temperamental with him lately, and maybe in retrospect, she’d been more aloof than he’d been. She was the one who had changed, not him. After all, she kept secrets and stayed out all hours of the day and night. She was doing her best to avoid any time alone with him. And it was killing her!
She sprung up from the couch.
“We have five minutes left,” Connor said.
“I’ve gotta go.” She rushed out the door and didn’t turn back, but she called out, “Thank you,” and kept going.
She had planned to meet up with Terry at the station, but Troy should be home from work. Let her partner handle the chef from the Pig King while she whisked Troy out for a nice dinner. They were past due for some time together.
She was driving home, and her phone rang. Caller ID showed on her car display and told her it was Terry. Madison answered. “I was going to call,” she blurted out. “How’s it going with Clayton?” There’d be plenty of time to bring up that she was heading home for the day.
“He lawyered up.”
“Good sign the guy’s probably guilty.”
“So, what were you going to tell me? You said you were going to call? Was it just to ask questions that could wait until you got here?”
Voicing her decision to call it a day was a little tougher than she’d thought it would be. “Well, I was going to call it a day. Sounds like that might work out. Who knows when Clayton’s lawyer’s going to get there?”
A few beats, then, “Oh,” coated with disappointment.
“You need me back?”
“I think you’ll want to join me. I’ve discovered some things while reading Carson’s journals. I mean, otherwise, I’d just be sitting here doing nothing pretty much. But she was some sort of whistleblower. Potentially anyhow. She mentioned her suspicions that her boss was guilty of insurance fraud, and she vowed to expose both him and Saul Abbott.”
She stiffened at Terry’s words and stopped for a red light. “Okay, Rossi said that Carson was double-checking his work. He wasn’t pleased by that. Guess we now know why. He must have known she was going to report him.”
“Still need proof, something solid,” Terry said. “But what you’ll really get excited about is Cynthia has unlocked the password-protected files on Carson’s laptop. I thought you’d want to come back to the station and dig in with me. Carson didn’t have anything specific documented about Rossi in her journals, but—”
“Could be in those files.”
“Yeah, so are you coming back to the station? We can look at it together.”
The light turned green. She he
sitated long enough that the person behind her honked their car’s horn and swerved around her.
“Maddy?” Terry prompted.
She had all these grandiose intentions of making things right with Troy—even if he didn’t know they were falling apart. But her job was calling. Carson was asking for justice. And if there was any proof that Carson was going to expose her boss, Dean Rossi, he would have motive for murder.
She checked all her mirrors, and no one was there. She cranked the wheel and was just about to start into a U-turn from the outside lane.
The impact came quick and hard from behind and threw her forward. Just before everything went black, a pickup breezed past and she saw the driver’s face. It was one she recognized.
-
Thirty-Four
Madison slowly opened her eyes. The light was blinding and pierced her skull. She closed them again.
“Madison?” A man’s voice struck her ears like it was coming from another world.
She squinted, widening her eyes in increments as they adjusted to the light. Then she realized there was a plastic tube coming out of her mouth. It felt like she was choking. She clawed at whatever it was, and a warm hand stopped her. Troy’s.
He reached for something next to her head and swept back some of her hair. “I’m so happy to see you again. Don’t say anything. Just wait.”
What was he talking about? What had happened? Where was she, and why was it so incredibly bright? Why couldn’t she breathe right? She screamed in her head, and her pounding heart thumped a staccato rhythm.
A woman in a pale-blue uniform came into the room.
“She just woke up,” Troy told her.
The woman fiddled with a machine next to the bed, and another person came into the room. A man in a white jacket. But she didn’t have time for this—whatever this was. She had a job to do. She struggled to sit up. She had to get to the station. Terry. He had something for her to look at— She winced. Thinking too hard hurt, and her memory was nothing but little snippets attempting to come together to form a complete picture.
Rather firm hands held her in place. The woman in the pale-blue uniform on one side and the man in white on the other. Troy stood back now, his hands on her feet.
“Madison, I’m Dr. Hunt,” the man in the white jacket said. “Nurse Vega is going to remove the breathing apparatus.”
Breathing apparatus!
“When I say so, let out a deep breath, Madison,” the nurse told her. “Blink twice if you hear me.”
Madison blinked once. Twice. Her eyelids felt so heavy they just wanted to stayed shut.
The woman positioned herself over Madison’s torso and put her hands in place to remove the tube. “Deep exhale now.”
She did so, and the woman removed the tube. Madison could feel every inch of it coming up her throat and fought the gag reflex. Her throat was raw and dry.
“Wa…ter,” she croaked out.
“Ice chips are the best we can do right now,” the doctor said.
The nurse offered Madison a cup with ice chips, and she took one into her mouth.
“You were in a car accident,” the doctor said.
A loud crunch. A force that lunged her forward, then back. The darkness.
He took out a stick from the pocket of his jacket and told her, “Follow this with your eyes.” He moved it left to right, right to left, left to right. “Good, good.” He went on to ask for her full name, birthday, Troy’s name, what she did for a job, what year it was, the current president’s name…so many questions. Eventually he stood back and smiled.
“Does that mean—” Troy’s voice cracked. “Is she going to be okay?”
The doctor nodded. “It’s early yet, but it’s looking good that she’ll make a full recovery.”
Troy had resumed his spot next to her, and he had his one hand wrapped around hers. The other was on her shoulder. She sought out Troy’s gaze, and when he looked into her eyes, she’d never seen him so pensive and anxious before. He looked like a mild breeze could knock his six-foot-four frame over.
“Wha…what happened?” She tried talking around the ice melting on her tongue.
“The accident caused your brain to swell, and to allow it time to heal, we put you into a medically induced coma,” the doctor said. “We were worried for a while, but it would seem you have someone up there looking out for you.” The doctor pointed toward the ceiling, and in Madison’s foggy mind, it took a while to piece together that he was referring to God or a guardian angel. “You do have a few bruised ribs though.”
That would explain why every breath was excruciating.
“They should heal up just fine,” the doctor went on. “Just no marathons or intense exercise for the next while.”
“No worries there,” Troy said and winked at her. Madison’s heart pinched, and she squeezed his hand. God, she loved that man, and he knew her so well.
“How long…have I…” She swallowed the melted ice. The cold of it was soothing to her throat.
“Better part of forty hours,” Troy answered. “You had the accident on Monday night about six, and it’s now Wednesday at eleven in the morning.”
Wednesday?! Maybe this was all some horrible nightmare and she’d wake up in bed, warm and next to Troy.
“When should she be able to leave, Doctor?”
“Let’s give it a couple more nights. We’ll continue to monitor you,” he said to Madison, “and if your vitals look good, you’ll be free to go by Friday evening. I’m also sure you’re anxious to know about your baby’s well-being.”
Baby! She must still be in a coma!
Troy stuttered, “She…she…she’s pregnant?”
“You didn’t know,” the doctor concluded.
Madison was in complete shock. Troy was wide-eyed.
The doctor went on. “You’re about six to eight weeks.”
She pried her brain to think of her last cycle. She’d never been regular but— She gulped. It had been a while since her last period, but she was on birth control pills and was religious about taking them. How could she be pregnant?
The doctor glanced at the nurse, looked back at Madison and Troy, cleared his throat and said, “I see this is quite a surprise for the two of you. It’s still early enough that if you wished to terminate the pregnancy, this could be done, but the sooner the better if that’s the decision you’re going to make.”
Troy gripped her hand tighter.
“Well, we’ll leave you two alone to talk,” the doctor said, then looked at Troy. “Visiting hours are from noon until two if you want to have family and friends come in, but I recommend limiting the number of people who visit today. She’s been through a lot and needs rest. And so do you.”
“Thank you,” Troy said, and the doctor and nurse left the room.
Troy looked at her. His mouth opened like he was going to say something a couple times, but nothing came out. His usual piercing green eyes had dulled and were a little bloodshot. His shoulders were sagged.
“How long…have…you…been here?” Her question came out in fragments.
“I’ve been by your side from the moment they let me.”
Her gaze went to the chair he’d been sitting in when she’d woken up. “You—”
“My turn to ask a question.” Hurt coated every word as if he’d been sliced by betrayal. He took her hand into both of his. “When were you going to tell me you’re pregnant?”
She closed her eyes. The days of nausea and the vomiting, her sensitivity to smells, her inability to enjoy a cup of coffee… She should have known, but they took steps so pregnancy wouldn’t happen. And though it had passed through her mind the other day, she’d dismissed it just as quickly as it had occurred. She was focused on her work—the murder investigation, bringing down corrupt cops, hindering the Mafia’s operations…
“Maddy, please.” Troy’s voice ripped something inside of her, and she met his gaze again.
“I didn’t know.”
“That’s why you were sick. Morning sickness.” Troy put a hand through his hair. “We should have figured it out. But we take precautions. How—” He snapped his mouth shut.
Tears snaked down her cheeks. This was probably when he told her that he wasn’t ready for a kid, that he didn’t want a kid, that he didn’t want to be with her, but he’d do what he could for the kid because he was that kind of man.
Seconds passed painfully.
“We’re having a baby!” He cupped her face and kissed her lips. He pulled back and let out a holler. He went to the doorway and called down the hall. “I’m going to be a dad!”
What the hell? She laughed—and stopped from the pain in her throat and ribs.
He raced back to her. “I’m so happy.”
“You’re—” She couldn’t speak. Personally, she was mortified and experiencing a myriad of emotions. Top of which was absolute panic. She’d never planned to be a mother. Kids weren’t even on her radar.
“I’m so happy,” he repeated. “And I love you.”
She found herself smiling, caught up in his excitement and enthusiasm. Maybe between the two of them, they’d figure it out, make it work. Her stomach tossed—the pregnancy itself or nerves from being pregnant? After all, in about nine months, less some weeks, she’d be squeezing out a melon. Her body would never be the same. Her life would become about carpools and sports and—
“Did you hear me, Madison? I love you.” He tapped another kiss on her lips.
“I love you, too.” She attempted a smile, but she wanted to cry.
His face scrunched up. “You’re not happy. You don’t want this.”
“It’s…it’s just a shock.”
“Or a good surprise?” Another grin.
She slapped a hand toward him and winced from the pain of doing so. Probably one of the bruised ribs. “We don’t even…have a…big enough house…for a kid.”
What We Bury Page 17
