One Final Breath

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  Paisley looked a little confused but nodded.

  “How do you know about Carly and Jillian?”

  Paisley blew out a long breath. “I’m afraid if I tell you, you’ll hate me. Well, more than you already do.”

  Anissa couldn’t help the mirthless chuckle that escaped. “Paisley, how about if you and I agree to be completely honest with each other? I’ll go ahead and tell you that if it weren’t for your little sister, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you. But I happen to be the kind of person who believes that God sometimes uses the horrible circumstances in our lives to bring us to a place we never imagined we could get to.” Maybe even forgiveness, but she wasn’t ready to say that out loud.

  Paisley nodded. “Okay. While we’re being honest, I should tell you that I truly believed I was doing the right thing that night. But I’d gotten some bad information and was being used by some dishonest people. I know that now. And I’ve spent the past several years trying to figure out what happened and exactly who was behind it all. I may never know. I have to live with that, and I understand if you don’t believe me. But I never, ever wanted to be the kind of reporter the sheriff’s office hates.”

  Anissa wasn’t sure if she believed her, but she’d take her words at face value for now. “Fair enough.”

  Paisley glanced around the room, and Anissa followed her gaze. A couple sat in the far corner, both with headphones in their ears. A man rested in a recliner. Eyes closed. Snoring. No one was listening.

  “I got a package. It was delivered to me at the news station. It had newspaper clippings and a CD that had video from news reports. All from thirteen years ago.”

  Anissa had expected Paisley to say she’d gone digging around in the pasts of different investigators until she found something juicy. Not that someone had delivered it to her on a silver platter. She asked the only question her scattered mind could come up with. “Why haven’t you done anything with it?”

  Paisley huffed. “I learned my lesson. Information like that? Mailed to the station? It’s clear someone has a vendetta against you and they want to use me to help them. I’m not interested in being anyone’s patsy ever again.”

  Anissa tried to consider Paisley’s words without bias. It wasn’t easy. “So, if you aren’t interested in being used, why are you showing up at my crime scenes and at the courthouse when I’m in court? I’ve seen you a lot over the past few months.”

  “You noticed?” Paisley had the look of a kid who’d gotten caught snagging a cookie from the kitchen counter. But, to be fair, it wasn’t the look of a kid who’d stolen a cookie from a bakery. “Yes. Sorry about that. I wanted to see you in action. I knew you’d never agree to an interview. And I understood why. I wanted to get a feel for who you are now. And . . .”

  “And?” Anissa prompted.

  “Honestly? I’m afraid for you. You’re tough and strong and a great investigator. People respect you. Some of them are afraid of you.” She hurried to add, “But only because you’re really intense. Not because they think you’re dangerous or anything.”

  Anissa didn’t try to hold back the sarcasm. “Well, that’s good to know.”

  Paisley didn’t seem to notice. “But someone clearly has it out for you. Every report they sent me had a slant that was negative against you. But when I went digging, I found far more reports that were kind to you. They didn’t send me those. They have an agenda, and while I have no idea what it is, I’m certain it isn’t good for you.”

  Anissa’s phone rang. She glanced at it. Leigh. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  She stood. “Yes?”

  “They’re wrapping up,” Leigh said. “Surgery went well. He’s stable. Should be in recovery in a few minutes. I’ve talked to Dr. Price and he’ll let you be in the recovery room with Gabe as he’s waking up.”

  “I’ll be right down. Wait. Where do I need to go?”

  Leigh gave her directions and Anissa disconnected the call. “Paisley, I’m sorry, but I need to go. Gabe’s out of surgery. Can we talk later? I think I may be able to help you with Brooke. As you already know, I’ve been in her shoes.”

  “That would be great. Please give—” Paisley shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll see you later.”

  “What were you going to say?” Anissa had a feeling she knew.

  Paisley gave her a rueful smile. “I was going to say to give Investigator Chavez my best wishes for a speedy recovery, but I’m guessing hearing my name isn’t going to help with that, so you should probably skip it.”

  Anissa patted Paisley’s arm. “You might be surprised. I’ll be in touch.”

  Gabe had expected heaven to be more harmonious. All he heard were beeping noises, and it was not going to be cool if he had to listen to them for eternity.

  He’d also expected there to be no pain in heaven.

  But he hurt. So . . . this was not heaven.

  He tried to force his eyes open, but they refused to cooperate.

  The beeping got faster.

  He pulled in a deep breath and with it came two competing scents. The first, the stronger, was antiseptic. A hospital or medical facility of some kind. The second was sweet with a hint of coconut.

  Anissa.

  He tried his eyes again, but they refused to move. He forced himself to replay the events of the day. Where had he been? How had he gotten here?

  Was it still Sunday?

  He was at Anissa’s. They’d been talking about the child. Jillian. Pizza. He went to the door . . .

  Knife!

  The beeping got faster again.

  Warm pressure on his arm. Then his hand. Fingers laced through his. The sweet scent overpowered the antiseptic. “Gabe. Relax. You’re okay. But your heart rate is making the nurse nervous.” Anissa’s voice, soft, at his right ear.

  Anissa was here. She was okay. Or at least more okay than he was. If he could get his blasted eyes open, then he could see for himself.

  “Keep talking to him,” a deep male voice said. “His heart rate and respirations settled when you were speaking. He can probably hear us, but the anesthesia has his muscles locked down.”

  “Gabe? You’re okay.”

  First, that was clearly a lie, given that he was lying in a hospital and couldn’t get his body to cooperate with simple commands. Second, who cared if he was okay or not? How was Anissa?

  The beeping accelerated.

  “Investigator Bell?” Deep Voice again. “Maybe you should tell him that you’re okay?”

  Yes. Listen to Deep Voice.

  “Oh?” Anissa sounded surprised.

  “He can’t see you. And if you were with him at the time of the stabbing, he’s probably worried about you.”

  He was going to owe Deep Voice a coffee.

  “Gabe, I’m fine. The only blood on me was yours. Although you scared me half to death when you passed out.” Now that she’d started talking, she was rambling and Anissa wasn’t the rambling type. “Ryan got there fast. He came in right as the EMTs arrived. He heard it on the scanner and recognized my address. I think you scared him half to death too. Dorothy and Clark were the EMTs. They were awesome. We should probably send them chocolates or something. Anyway, I was going to ride with you to the hospital, but Ryan wouldn’t let me. I was ticked. But he was all”—her voice lowered—“‘we can help Gabe better by staying here.’”

  If that was her impression of Ryan’s voice, it was truly awful. He would tell her that if he could get his mouth to work.

  She kept going. “He brought me here and told me to stay in the hospital. He’s back at my house with Forensics.”

  She stopped talking. He wanted to tell her to keep going. Wanted to tell her Ryan had been right. He’d have to thank him later. He wanted to tell her she was in danger. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even squeeze her hand. All he managed was to twitch his fingers. But that was enough to get her attention. She squeezed back. “Don’t fight it, Gabe.”

  But he had to fight. The knife . . . yes. T
here had been a knife. A flash of silver. Searing pain. He couldn’t move his arm. More pieces fell into place. But that knife hadn’t been meant for him. He was sure of it. The beeping started going faster again.

  “Keep talking, Investigator Bell.” Deep Voice had a bit of urgency to his tone this time.

  “So, while I was waiting on you to get out of surgery, I went upstairs to see if I could check on Brooke. Paisley was in the waiting room. We talked for a bit. I don’t think I ever told you that she’s been showing up at my crime scenes. Anyway, I asked her why. I kind of figured she had big plans for some big exposé about me or something. But—” Anissa’s rambling cut off.

  “Ah, how’s our patient?” This voice Gabe knew. This was Dr. Sloan. The man had patched him up more than a few times during his undercover days.

  “Bit agitated,” Deep Voice said. “Calms down when Investigator Bell talks to him. She’s doing a great job. Pretty sure he’s awake enough to hear us, but the anesthesia has him pinned down.”

  Dr. Sloan chuckled. The nerve of that man. “Oh, you haven’t seen agitated yet. Just wait until he gets his mouth moving. Investigator Chavez is fabulous at what he does. Not so fabulous as a patient.”

  Anissa laughed. Deep Voice laughed. Dr. Sloan laughed.

  Traitors.

  “Well, Dr. Price tells me everything went great in surgery. Gabe had lost a lot of blood. His blood pressure was dangerously low and he was in shock from the blood loss, but he’s very lucky. I thought the knife had punctured the left subclavian artery when he came in, but it turns out it had caught one of the axillary veins. Dr. Price deployed a stent and the bleeding stopped. He’s optimistic that there’s no nerve damage. Not that it isn’t going to hurt like nobody’s business for a while.”

  “Okay.” Anissa sounded like she was choked up about something.

  “I understand you did a great job of applying pressure on the scene,” Dr. Sloan said.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” she said. “There was a lot of blood.”

  “Yes. I imagine that there would have been. But you kept enough inside him.”

  Someone, Dr. Sloan maybe, patted Gabe’s foot. “Gabe, I have to get back to work. It’s clear you’re being well cared for. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I will,” Anissa answered. Maybe Dr. Sloan had directed that last sentence to her?

  Gabe tried to move again. This time his fingers cooperated enough to catch Anissa’s fingers and press down. She responded with gentle pressure. “Hey,” she whispered. “Don’t stress, Gabe. Just go back to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  She was safe. He wasn’t dead. There wasn’t much else he could do. He relaxed. The beeping slowed.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” Anissa’s face filled his field of vision.

  He blinked a few times. Yay. His eyelids worked. “Hey.” His voice sounded strange. He tried to clear his throat, but everything was dry. Had they made him swallow gravel or something?

  “Can I give him some ice chips?” Anissa directed her question to someone behind him.

  “Just a couple.” Deep Voice. Excellent. Definitely going to get Deep Voice a coffee when this was over.

  “Do you want an ice chip?” Anissa’s face was scrunched. Tense.

  “An ice chip?” Still with the gruff voice. He tried to clear his throat, but that turned out to be a bad idea. “The man said a couple. Don’t be stingy.”

  Anissa smiled. A real smile as she spooned an ice chip—one—into his mouth. “Don’t be greedy. I don’t have anything to change into if you puke.”

  “No worries, ma’am,” Deep Voice piped up. “If he pukes, I can get you some of these stylish green scrubs to wear.”

  Anissa acted like she was considering his offer. “Green’s not really my color. Do you have anything in blue? Turquoise? Oh, maybe navy?”

  “I think you could pull off any color just fine.” What? Was Deep Voice flirting with Anissa?

  Deep Voice stepped beside him. Gabe looked up. And then farther up. Well, this was great. Deep Voice was the kind of guy that girls liked. Tall. Perfect smile. Good hair. And he’d been hanging out with Anissa for the past how long? “What time is it?”

  Anissa didn’t even glance at her watch. “It’s around three.”

  “A.m. or p.m.?”

  “A.m.,” she said. “You came out of surgery around eleven. They let me in here around midnight, but you didn’t seem to want to wake up.” She offered him another ice chip.

  “Dr. Sloan was here,” he said. Or mumbled.

  “Yes. Did you hear him? We thought you were going to wake up then, but you never opened your eyes.”

  He nodded. “I heard you.” He couldn’t stop himself from scanning her face, her arms and hands, every part of her that he could see as she offered another ice chip. “You’re okay?”

  She bit her lip. “Yes.”

  “She’s refused to leave your side in case you woke up,” Deep Voice said. “We were a little worried about how long it was taking until she explained how hard you’ve been working and how little sleep you’ve had over the past week. Your surgeon, Dr. Price, figured your body was taking advantage of the situation and we let you sleep.”

  Anissa shot a quick glare at Deep Voice and then dropped her gaze to the floor.

  Gabe reached for her hand. “Thank you.”

  She laced her fingers through his, but she didn’t look up.

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  “Oh, you get to spend a day or two enjoying the sweet comforts of one of Carrington’s finest hospital rooms before they’ll let you out of here. After that? I imagine you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Deep Voice looked from Gabe, to Anissa, then back to Gabe with a look that said, “And if you don’t, then you’re an idiot and I’ll be happy to pick up the pieces.”

  Dr. Price entered before Gabe had a chance to respond. “Well, well, well. Look who decided to rejoin us.” His gaze landed on their entwined hands. “Investigator Chavez, I’m assuming you don’t mind that we allowed Investigator Bell to stay with you. We generally only allow next of kin, but both Ryan and Leigh Parker assured me you wouldn’t mind. And frankly, I’m not sure it would have mattered. She would have been sitting in the hallway if we’d said no.”

  Gabe tried to catch Anissa’s eye, but she was looking at Dr. Price. “This man was stabbed by a knife that was meant for me.”

  So this was gratitude? Nothing more? A sick feeling that had nothing to do with the anesthesia crept through Gabe’s system. He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let go.

  “He was there for me when no one else understood what I was going through. He’s my friend and one of the finest men I know. There was no way I was leaving him.”

  Whoa. Did she really think that?

  Dr. Price smiled. “Well, give us a few minutes to make sure he’s stable and we’ll get him, and you as his self-appointed shadow, into a room. But you should know there’s a bit of a crowd in the waiting area.”

  “What?” Gabe croaked.

  “They’ve been praying since you came in. You may want to think about who you want to allow to visit because the nurses will need to know who to let through and who to turn away.”

  This was one of the biggest differences between his undercover days and now. Before, when he got hurt—cut, shot, punched—no one knew. No one was there.

  The idea that people cared about him enough to be praying for him in a waiting room in the middle of the night, combined with the way Anissa had spoken about him and still had her fingers twisted up with his, left him speechless.

  “Want me to run down to the waiting room and give them a quick update and send everyone home?” she asked.

  He squeezed her hand. “Not really, but it might be a good idea.”

  Deep Voice spoke up. “I think that’s a great plan. I’ll be able to help Investigator Chavez with a few things that you probably don’t need to be here for anyway. When you get back, we should be re
ady to roll to a room.”

  Anissa stood. “Any specific thing you want me to say?”

  Gabe squeezed her hand. “Tell them thank you. Tell them whatever you want. I trust you.”

  10

  I trust you.”

  Anissa replayed Gabe’s words as she made her way to the waiting area. How much more of a fool could she make out of herself? What was wrong with her? She could be his friend. Just his friend. Besides, someone was out to get her. If she let Gabe get too much closer, he could wind up dead. And it would be her fault. Again.

  She opened the door and thirty expectant faces looked at her. She scanned the room. Could one of these faces be the person who’d stabbed Gabe? Her tension eased a fraction when she recognized several ladies from church, a few older gentlemen who were in Mr. Cook’s Sunday school class, and a handful of regulars from the Pancake Hut. No one stood out as a threat. She directed her attention to Mr. Cook. “He’s awake. Talking. Being a smart aleck. So, you know, back to normal.”

  Everyone in the room cheered.

  Mr. Cook stood and, as was his way, launched straight into prayer. “Father, thank you for taking care of our friend Gabe. Thank you for the doctors and nurses who so skillfully tended to his injuries. We ask for quick healing and a quick nabbing of the fella who stabbed him.”

  A chorus of “amen” filled the room, but no one made a move to leave. “What’s the prognosis, Anissa?”

  Anissa couldn’t tell who had asked the question, so she answered the entire group. “His prognosis is good. They plan to keep him a day or two, but he is expected to recover fully. They were worried about nerve damage, but they think he’ll regain full mobility.” She sounded like a hospital spokesperson. “He wants me to thank all of you for the prayers. He really appreciates it.”

  “What can we do for him?” Another voice she couldn’t place. “Can we bring him anything? Maybe some meals?”

  “He’s not up for visitors and probably won’t be while he’s here. As for food, right now his diet consists of ice chips.” Everyone laughed. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t turn down a few meals once he’s home.”