by Clare Revell
He looked around for Garth, seeing him over by the pool. “I’ll be right back.”
He crossed swiftly over to Garth. “What did you give her?”
“Just something to relax her, man. To relax all of us. I put vodka in the punch. She never knew what hit her.” Garth laughed “Anyway all that booze she drank will make it easy for you tonight as she didn’t seem too keen on sharing a room with you.”
Patrick lashed out hard and fast, his fist connecting with Garth’s face, sending him flying into the pool.
Garth came up, arms flailing, spluttering. “What was that for, man?”
“You figure it out.” He went back over to where he’d left Elle. “We should go home.”
“I got a better idea,” she whispered, running a hand down his face. “How about we just go upstairs?”
“Sure, you can sleep this off, and I’ll drive us home in the morning.”
He led her inside, worry gnawing at his stomach. She didn’t drink and it wouldn’t have taken much to affect her, but this was just way off the scale. What else had Garth slipped in the punch?
“You are one very good looking man, Patrick.”
“That’s very kind of you to say so.”
He got her up the stairs, into the bedroom, and shut the door. He turned and Elle was there. Her fingers running over his chest, unfastening his shirt buttons.
He stilled her hands. “Elle, no. Not like this.”
She kissed him. “Please, I need you to show me how much you love me.”
He picked her up and laid her on the bed. “You need to sleep this off.” He pulled off her shoes and covered her. “Night.”
He made a hasty retreat across to his sleeping bag.
“Patrick…” She reached for him. “Please.”
Another alarm bell rang in his head.
“Patrick...”
Fighting the desire tugging at him, he remained on his sleeping bag on the other side of the room. “Go to sleep, Elle.”
****
Just after seven in the morning, Patrick sat at the table, files spread out in front of him. He was no closer to finding out why Foster was involved and it was more than a little irritating. It was possible he wasn’t the person who’d sent the threat, and it was pure coincidence Elle had received the letter from him on the same day. He glanced up as Elle came into the room. “How’s Abbie doing?”
“Not good. She’s complaining her arm hurts, but she’s curled up tightly, rubbing her stomach.” She sat down. “Can we get a doctor out to see her?”
“Of course we can.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Actually, didn’t the doctor at the hospital say to take her back if she wasn’t feeling good?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Then we’ll do that.”
A panicked cry came from upstairs. “Ellie….”
As one, Patrick and Elle ran into the hall. Patrick got there slightly before her. He glanced up the stairs. Abbie stood at the top, bright red blood soaking the front of her clothes. Her good arm clasped tightly around her stomach.
A gasp came from behind him. “Abbie…”
With a small whimper, Abbie bent over, vomiting a stream of red blood onto the carpet.
Patrick glanced at Elle. “Grab a bowl from under the sink. We’ll take her to the ED.” He took the stairs two at a time and picked up Abbie, heedless of the blood covering him. “Shay!” he yelled. “Need you now.”
Shay came out of her room. “What the dev—” She took things in with a single glance. “I’ll drive.”
Patrick nodded. “We’ll call it in on the way to the hospital. We don’t have time to wait.” He gently cradled Abbie as he headed back down the stairs.
“Abbie, I’m here,” Elle said touching her arm.
“Scared, Ellie.”
“I know, me too. But the doctor will make you better.”
“Let’s go,” Patrick said. He left the house, myriad thoughts running through his mind and none of them good.
Arriving at the ED, he and Elle got out and ran into reception. Prepared for a fight once again, he was relieved when the receptionist took one look at him.
“I need a doctor out here now,” she yelled, as Abbie leaned over the bowl again.
A doctor immediately appeared. Patrick recognized Dr. Peterson from the previous day.
He focused on the girl. “It’s Abbie, isn’t it?” he asked.
Abbie nodded. “I’m scared.”
“I know. It’s all right to be scared. We’ll find out what’s wrong and fix you. Bring her through.” He led the way into the Resus department.
Patrick laid her on the bed. Then he stepped back as a team of medics descended.
One of the nurses spoke to Elle, trying to get information from her but she wasn’t willing to wait, demanding to be allowed to stay with Abbie.
“She was in here yesterday?” the nurse asked.
Patrick slid a hand into Elle’s and squeezed it. “She’s in good hands,” he said. “Just tell the nurse what she needs to know. They can’t help her without knowing what ‘s going on.”
“She was admitted yesterday following a car accident. She said her stomach hurt a bit last night, and she didn’t eat anything. This morning she said the pain was worse so we were going to bring her in, but before we could leave she started throwing up blood.”
“And Abbie is thirteen?”
“Yeah, she’s fourteen in January.”
“It says here that her mother…your mother died in the accident yesterday. It could be a bit sticky getting permission unless your mother gave you—”
Elle caught her breath, her whole body stiffening. “No, I can sign whatever forms need to be signed. That isn’t going to be a problem at all.”
“Maybe you don’t understand. Abbie is your sister. You can’t—”
Eleanor held up a hand, cutting the nurse off, and gazed up at Patrick for a long moment. Then she dropped her hand and looked back at the nurse. “I can. Abbie is my daughter, not my sister.”
Patrick’s heart stopped. He twisted to look at her. Elle’s insistence on wanting to see Abbie, her reaction when Abbie went missing and over the accident yesterday, all slotting into place. “Your daughter?” he echoed.
“Yes,” Elle repeated. “My daughter.”
“Miss Harrison?” Dr. Peterson called.
Elle let go of his hand and moved over to Abbie. “I’m here,” she said.
“Ellie…”
Patrick digested the information while Abbie’s blood soaked into his clothes making them stick to him. He kept watch on the figures by the bed, not listening to what they were saying, his mind in turmoil.
Abbie was Elle’s daughter.
Everything had changed. Whatever the reasons, it was essential the medical staff, and his boss, knew this turn of events. He moved over to one of the nurses and pulled out his ID. “I need to speak to whoever’s in charge here.”
****
Patrick stood to one side as Elle signed the consent forms for surgery if that was deemed necessary, and stood silently as the nurses wheeled Abbie away, closely followed by Shay. Abbie was already sedated. It had been horrible watching her go under the anesthetic.
He glanced down his chest at his blood stained clothing. He probably looked as bad as he felt. His emotions were all over the place. But however bad he felt, Elle must feel a hundred times worse.
He walked over to her and took her hand. “Where are they taking Abbie?”
Elle blinked hard, and wiped at tears. “She’s going for a CT scan to find out what’s going on. Then, if need be, they’ll take her straight to surgery to try and stop the bleeding. The doctor said it’ll be a couple of hours before they know anything. Then they’ll take her to intensive care. They said Shay can stay with her the whole time. Even in the theater if she scrubs up and stays out of the way.”
“How are you doing?”
“Scared.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Terrified. I fe
el sick, my stomach’s in knots. She’ll need some things…”
“I’ll take you back to the house.”
“Thank you. You can change as well.”
He glanced down at himself and grimaced. “Yeah, I will. Elle, there’s something I need to ask.”
She shivered, almost as if she knew what he wanted to ask. “Go on.”
“We need to talk about what you told the nurse about Abbie being your daughter?”
She nodded. “Yes. But, this isn’t the place for this conversation.”
“I disagree. But if you prefer we can have it back at the house.” That wasn’t what he wanted, but he knew not to push the issue right now. She might clam up completely. He led her outside and over to the car.
Neither of them said anything on the drive to the house. Once inside, Elle ran upstairs to gather Abbie’s things. All the blood had been cleaned up, proving Nahum could work fast when he put his mind to it. But Patrick was relieved that there were no visible signs of Abbie being taken ill so violently.
Patrick quickly changed then crossed into Abbie’s room. He paced back and forth across the carpet, watching Elle as she packed, trying to find an easy way of saying what he needed.
“Abbie is your daughter?” He asked as he reached the window again.
“You sound like a broken record. You’re also going to wear out the carpet. Sit down.”
He leaned against the window sill, hands gripping the edge of it. “Talk to me, Elle.”
She took a deep breath and shifted. “Yes, Abbie is my daughter.” Her apparent unease grew, the pupils in her eyes constricting and her voice wobbled.
His mind ran fit to burst, doing the math in his head. Whichever way he looked at it, the figures added up to only one conclusion. “She’s thirteen? Almost fourteen?”
Elle nodded slowly, shoving things into the bag. “Yeah, her birthday is January twentieth.”
“That would make it… Is that why you didn’t return after the Easter break?”
She hesitated for a long time, before finally looking up. “Yeah, it is. I couldn’t do both.”
“Is she mine?”
She stood up and walked to the window, her hands clenching and unclenching. He watched her, knowing she was wrestling with something.
Unable to sit and wait any longer, he stood. “For Pete’s sake, Elle, it’s a simple question. Is Abbie my daughter?” He voiced the question he hadn’t wanted to ask.
“I want to go back to the hospital now. Abbie’s alone and I need to be with her.”
“I’m assuming no?”
“I can’t talk about this. Just take me back to the hospital.”
“With pleasure.” He shook his head. He’d find out the truth one way or the other. This wasn’t over by a long shot. Had she betrayed him? Been seeing someone else at the same time? Surely if Abbie was his, Elle would have told him. She knew how much he loved her. He would have married her on the spot despite any opposition from her parents.
And surely she’d have answered his question as well. He’d asked outright several times and she’d brushed him off. What other secret was she hiding? If not him or another bloke, then who? The idea was almost too painful to bear. He had to get out of here, get his head around this and to do that he couldn’t be anywhere near Elle for at least an hour, if not more.
He pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. “Nigel, its Patrick. Can you do me a favor? I have somewhere I need to be for the next hour or so.”
“Sure. What do you need me to do?”
“Pick Eleanor Harrison up from the safe house on Brook Street and take her to Headley General. Her daughter is in ITU. Shay will meet you there.”
“On my way. Give me ten minutes.”
“Thanks.” He hung up. “Nigel will take you to the hospital.”
“You’re not coming?”
He didn’t bother to hide the betrayal in his voice. “Not yet, no.”
13
As soon as Nigel arrived, Patrick left without saying goodbye. He drove to the gym barely keeping to the speed limit. He changed into tee shirt and shorts, determined to take his frustration, anger, and fear out on the equipment. He headed first to the treadmill, running the fastest 3k he’d ever done in his life. Before long, sweat slicked his hair back against his head, trickling down into his eyes and soaking his shirt, as he made his way around the gym.
He reached the punch bag, not bothering with the gloves as he slammed his fists into it, over and over again.
A hand came down on his arm. He looked up, breathing hard. He blinked, not expecting to see his brother standing there. This wasn’t his day to work out. “Liam?”
“In the flesh.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Frank rang. Said you seemed intent on killing yourself. Figured I’d come and stop you before you really did do some serious damage to yourself or the equipment.”
Patrick shrugged off his brother’s touch and slammed his hand into the punch bag. Pain ricocheted up his arm, but he ignored it. Compared to the pain in his heart it was nothing. “She lied to me.”
“Who did?” Liam moved around to hold the bag steady.
“Elle.” He thumped the bag hard, almost knocking Liam off his feet. “She lied and now I don’t know what else she’s lied about. How do I protect her when she won’t be honest with me?”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Protect her?”
“Forget I said that.” Patrick winced as he hit the bag wrong, sending further shards of pain up his arm.
“I heard through the church email that her mother was killed in a car accident yesterday. Abbie was hurt, too. I’m guessing that’s related. How is Abbie doing?”
“Not great. We rushed her back to the ED this morning. She was throwing up blood. They’re running tests, talking surgery.”
Liam grabbed his hand. “You are going to hurt yourself. Why are you so worked up over this? Your job has never thrown you out of whack before. Is it just because Elle has come back into your life after all so long?”
“Yes. No.” He sucked in a deep breath, his chest hurting. “Because while I’m investigating the biggest drug dealer around not to mention trying to liaise with the Scottish police, I find Elle after all these years. And she works for the guy. There are just too many coincidences for these things to just happen at the same time. And I don’t believe in fate either, just like you don’t.”
Liam held his gaze and his hand firmly. “Fate might not play a part in this, but don’t forget God is in overall charge of everything.”
“I know that, Li. Sure God may have brought Elle back into my life at this particular point in time for some reason I can’t fathom, but she’s mixed up in this mess somehow, and I can’t figure it out. What I need is for DI Nemec to stop dragging his heels and get me the promised info on this Foster.” He pulled his hand free and punched the bag again hard, this time splitting the skin on his knuckles.
Liam grabbed him again. “So call him and chase it up. Maybe, like you, he’s working more than one case and it’s sitting on his desk waiting to be sent.”
“Maybe. But then today I find out that Abbie is Elle’s daughter, not her sister, and it’s possible that Abbie is mine.”
His brother hesitated for a moment and let go of him. “Do you know for certain she’s yours?”
Patrick shook the hair from his face, sweat streaming down his neck and chest. “I know the math is right.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“Elle’s lied about being her mother since Abbie was born. What else is she lying about? And why didn’t she tell me?” He swung at the bag again, only to have Liam grab his hand. “What, Li?” he demanded.
“Enough. You and I are going patch your hands up and we are going to talk this out.”
“I can’t talk about work stuff, you know that.” Never mind the fact he’d just done that, hadn’t he?
“Not the work stuff, just the personal stuff.”
�
��It’s a combination of the two things, Li, and careless talk costs lives.” Patrick held his brother’s gaze.
“I’m not likely to go telling anyone. But you need to talk to someone. It’s me, your boss, or Pastor Jack. Pastor Jack’s first aid is useless. I’ve seen him in action on a church camp. And your boss would go down the personally involved route and take you off the case before you could count to three and you know it. I also know that’s the last thing you want. So I guess you’re left with me.”
Patrick sighed. He didn’t have a choice, but perhaps Liam would listen without condemning him. Something he wasn’t sure the others would do. “I will tell you only what does not relate to this ongoing investigation.”
“I promise, whatever you tell me will go in one ear and out the other.”
****
Sun streamed through the gap in the curtains. Patrick opened his eyes as Elle groaned. He smiled at her. “Feeling better?”
“No,” she whispered. “My head and stomach are killing me. What happened?”
“Garth spiked the punch. You were more than slightly drunk. We need to get some food and coffee into you.”
She looked green at the mere suggestion. “I don’t think I could eat anything and keep it down.”
“Not an option, I’m afraid.” He paused. “What exactly do you remember?”
She sat up gingerly. Color rushed to her face. “I…oh no. I’m so sorry. I think I threw myself at you.”
He hugged her. “It’s fine, Elle. I was flattered, but nothing happened.”
“I came onto you. What must you think of me?”
“Like I said, nothing happened. I got you into bed and you fell asleep. I spent the night over there, like I promised I would. I wasn’t going to take advantage of you.” He held out a hand. “Let’s go find you some coffee and toast.”
She groaned as he gently pulled her to her feet. “Stop the world. I want to get off.”
Downstairs, Patrick noted with satisfaction that Garth’s eye was bruised.
“What happened to him?” Elle asked.
“I hit him,” Patrick replied. “It’s sorted now.”
