It was another hour before the secure double doors swung open and a man clad in pale green scrubs, fitted surgical cap, and a mask that was now hanging around his neck walked out to greet us. “Family of Reagan Castell?” he asked.
“I’m her father,” Derrek said as he stepped forward. Anxiety deepened his wrinkles and made him pull up taller as though preparing for a battle.
The surgeon nodded. “Reagan came through surgery just fine. The bullet hit her in the upper left section of her chest, but caused no damage to the heart. It did, however, exit through the scapula, which left several bone fragments. That was the main challenge with her surgery, trying to find and remove the fragments so they wouldn’t cause any further damage, but we think we got them all and she should make a full recovery.”
Derrek quietly began to sob while Charis punched me in the arm, hard. It earned her a strange glance from the surgeon, but he continued on, telling us when we could see Reagan and how long it would take for her to come out of the anesthesia. I hoped someone else was listening more closely than I was, because I couldn’t get past the news that she was going to be okay. Everything else slipped past me in a fog. When the surgeon finally excused himself, I collapsed into a chair beside Marie and dragged in the breath I felt as though I’d been waiting to take since she first pounded on my door.
Without a word, Marie reached over and took my hand. That was all it took to unleash a flood of emotion. Huge, heavy sobs wracked my entire body. My head fell into my free hand and I found myself leaning into Derrek’s embrace as soon as he fell into the chair next to me and extended his arm.
“It’s all right, son,” he said softly. “She’s going to be just fine. Everything is going to be okay. Whatever you two fought about, you’ll work it out.”
I didn’t know if that was true, but not for the same reasons anymore. I’d felt justified in my anger at the time. Maybe I still did. I couldn’t focus enough to figure it out. What I could never justify was leaving her there like that. No matter how angry I was with her, I’d promised to protect her. Instead, I walked away and left her vulnerable.
Trying to hold back my despair that she might have survived only so she could walk away from me, I reined my emotions in and made an attempt to pull myself together. It took a long time, but eventually I sat back up and breathed in slow and deep to clear my head. Flanked by Derrek and Marie, I felt more supported than I deserved. The only one still pacing was Charis.
That didn’t strike me as odd until I caught sight of the expression on her face. Biting her fingernails, her other arm was wrapped around her waist as she continued to pace. We’d just been given the best possible news, given the circumstances, but she looked as though she was still waiting for the worst. Something wasn’t right, but she seemed to be the only one who knew what that was.
“Charis, what’s wrong?” I asked.
She shook her head, continuing to pace.
“Charis,” I barked, starting to freak out. “What aren’t you telling us? What else happened?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. Behind her defensive tone, her eyes glassed over.
She was lying, and I’d had more than enough of that for one night. No one tried to stop me when I stood and stalked over to her. She tried to walk past me, but I grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. “What are you freaking out about?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “It’s not my place.”
“Your place for what?”
She shook her head and tried to pull away, but I wasn’t letting her go anywhere. If there was something else, a reason Reagan was still in danger, I needed to know. The police needed to know. The thought of something else happening to her nearly unraveled me. “Tell me, damn it! If she’s in danger…”
“She’s pregnant!” Charis yelled. She slapped her hand over her mouth, eyes double their usual size. Her expression twisted with regret and worry. “She’s not in danger. She’s just…I don’t…” She turned away and pressed her hands to her face.
I felt one of my knees buckled and reached for the wall to steady myself. Derrek’s hands gripped my arm, but I sank to the ground anyway. Pregnant? What was she talking about? When had this happened? Why wouldn’t Reagan have told me?
Brandon’s text snapped back into my mind, the one I’d gotten right before seeing the photos at the benefit, asking about Reagan’s doctor’s appointment and why her response to him had been so strange. I was so distracted when she came home that I’d barely noticed she’d been smiling instead of looking exhausted. I’d ignored her excitement and begged her to go with me to the benefit. Instead of making me stop and listen, she’d supported me when I asked for her help, even though she had known the photos would be there and what my likely response would be.
That alone was enough to make me want to crawl into a hole and disappear. Knowing that my reaction, my decision to leave her at the hotel, had not only endangered her life, but the life of our child made me physically ill. Suddenly, I understood Charis’s still very real concern. The surgery had gone well and saved Reagan’s life, but had it saved our child?
***
I woke to an empty room, muffled voices, and pain. The pain was muted, like the voices I couldn’t pinpoint, but got immensely worse when I tried to look around the room. The yelp torn from my lips caused a flurry of motion and noise. My dad rushed into the room and was at my bedside before the nurse, or whoever he was, crossed half the distance. Taking my hand in his, he squeezed it so tight it hurt, but I didn’t tell him that.
“Ms. Castell, it’s nice to see you awake. How’s your pain right now on a scale of one to ten?”
“If I don’t move, maybe a three,” I said uncertainly. It was hard to focus. A million thoughts were racing through my mind in that moment, half of which I knew I didn’t want to think about and was purposely keeping at bay.
The nurse nodded. “And if you do move?”
Not wanting to relive the experience, I continued to hold still. “Seven.”
He nodded again. “My name is Trevor. I’ll be taking care of you until shift change. If the pain is too much…” He reached over me to pick up something that looked like one of the clickers on Jeopardy and handed it to me. “Press this button and you’ll get a little more relief. We’re keeping you on a lower limit for the time being, just to be safe, but we also don’t want you in more pain than you can handle. If you need anything else, press the red button on the rail here, and I’ll be right in, okay?”
I nodded, not understanding why they were limiting my pain meds. “Just to be safe?” I asked as I tried to get my groggy mind to focus.
“Opioids for short term use in situations like this are generally considered safe during pregnancy, but there’s still some questions about the practice, so we’re keeping it to as low of a dose as we can right now.”
I gasped as my mind and emotions struggled for dominance. “Pregnancy?” I whispered, not sure I believed what he was saying.
He glanced over to my father, suddenly worried. “I thought she knew,” he said. “They told me she knew.”
My dad patted my arm as he kept his focus on the nurse. “She does,” he said. “I don’t think she’s quite out of the effects of the anesthesia just yet.”
“The baby’s okay?” I demanded.
Both my father and the nurse turned to me with pensive expressions. Trevor was the one to answer. “It’s difficult to know so soon, but an ultrasound showed the fetus doing well for the time being. With a trauma of this scale, that could change, though. You should be prepared for that, Reagan.”
Tears blurred my vision. “I could still lose the baby?”
He reached over and squeezed my hand gently. “We’re doing everything we can to prevent that, okay? Just try to relax and let your body heal.” He glanced over at my dad again, pursed his lips, and then turned back to me. “I’ll give you some time alone and update the doctor on your status. Call if you need anything.”
He was gone a few seconds later
, leaving me reeling. My only anchor was my dad’s hand squeezing mine. Which I’d been grateful for the moment I woke, but now stood out in contrast to whose wasn’t there. Worry clouded my dad’s features as my breathing jumped and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Does he know?”
“Does who know?” he asked.
“Donovan, does he know about the baby?” I couldn’t bear to open my eyes and see the expression on my dad’s face. I couldn’t handle the pity I knew would be there. It was too much after everything else.
My dad’s hand tightened around mine. “Yes, baby girl, he knows.”
“And he…he’s not…I…it’s okay…I can…it’ll be fine…”
“Yes,” my dad said as he stroked my forehead, “it will be fine.”
The pain in my shoulder seemed worse than ever, but I deserved it and refused to press the button for more meds. “I can do this by myself, right? If I don’t lose the baby?”
“Of course you could,” he said, “but why would you have to do it on your own? You have me and Donovan and his parents…”
“But,” I interrupted, “he’s not…he left. He’s not here…”
“Baby girl,” my dad crooned, “is that what you thought? Honey, he’s just downstairs getting coffee. I texted him when you woke up, and I suspect he’s racing back up here as we speak. He was going crazy sitting here waiting and I practically had to shove him into the elevator to get him to take a break.”
I stared at him in confusion. “What?”
It wasn’t more than half a second later before Donovan burst into the room and slid to a stop as the door swung shut behind him. “Reagan?” He stared at me, as if he couldn’t believe I was awake and looking at him. “Thank God,” he whispered before rushing over to my bed and hovering there, unsure of where he could touch me without hurting me.
Smiling, my dad stood and gestured for him to take his place. “I’ll give you two a few minutes.” He smiled before slipping out into the hall.
Breathing hard, Donovan watched me, seeming as though he expected me to say something. I was too confused do to anything more than stare at him, wide-eyed and terrified I was dreaming.
“Reagan, baby, I’m so sorry. I never should have left you there like that. It was stupid. Please forgive me. I’m a fucking idiot for letting my anger put you in danger. It will never happen again. I promise, I promise, I’ve never been so scared in my life. You’re safe, though, and our baby is okay. You’re both going to be okay and we’ll work everything else out, right? Right?”
Blinking slowly, I tried to understand what he was saying. All I could manage to say was, “You’re here?”
“Yes, baby, of course I’m here. Where else would I be?” his grip tightened on my hand, pulling my gaze down to it for a few seconds before moving back to his.
“But, you left. You never wanted to see me again. You thought I stole your picture, but I didn’t. I mean, I took the ones from your phone, because I thought those were safe, but I didn’t take the other ones. I don’t know how Marie got them. I never told her. I promise, I never told her or anyone about them. I would never have done that to you, I promise, I promise…” Tears were pouring down my cheeks as I trailed off into a mumbling, pleading apology.
He pressed his forehead to mine and pleaded, “Don’t cry, baby. I know. I know what really happened. Marie explained everything. I know you didn’t break your promise and I’m so sorry for not listening to you when you tried to tell me that. I was such an idiot for thinking you would break a promise like that. What you did, the collage, it was beautiful. Please don’t cry, Reagan. Don’t cry. We’re together and we’ll work all of this out. We’ll be okay and be a family.”
I started crying harder, making him pull back in confusion. “You can’t stay with me, not just because of the baby,” I sobbed.
“No,” he whispered, “that’s not why. I mean, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re pregnant, but that’s not why I’m here, Reagan. I love you. I was an asshole for blowing up at you earlier. You’re too important to me to not try to work things out. You’re everything to me. Please let me try to prove that again. I begging you for a second chance.”
Shaking my head, I stared at him. “But…I need a second chance. You have to forgive me.”
He laughed, though his expression was still pained. “No, I don’t. You were doing exactly what you told me you were. Trying to protect me. I don’t need to forgive that. I should have been thanking you. I wish you would have just told me from the beginning so I could have dealt with Marie, but I think I understand why you didn’t. She explained what happened and how you tried to talk her out of it and help me when she wouldn’t back down. It’s okay, Reagan.”
“You’re not angry with me?” There was another flood of tears ready to break through my control if this wasn’t real, if I was imagining this conversation or not hearing him right.
He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “No, I’m not. I’m just happy you’re okay, and I’m going to be right here beside you no matter what happens next. If the baby doesn’t…”
I didn’t know how to respond when his brows pinched together and his grip on my hand tightened. He look away and shook his head. Amazed he was struggling so much with the idea that the baby might not make it after the trauma of me being shot, I reached forward with my good arm and brushed at his hair. It was the furthest I could reach without the pain overwhelming me. Seeing my gesture, he leaned into my touch, pressing my hand to his lips and holding me like that until a knock on the door forced him to pull back.
“Ms. Castell, Donovan, is it all right if I come in?” a man I didn’t recognize asked. The badge clipped to his belt identified him as a detective, and I guessed his familiarity with Donovan made him someone involved in Keira’s case…now my case as well.
Donovan gestured for him to come closer and shook his hand when he reached the foot of the bed. “Do you know anything yet?” Donovan asked.
“A surprising amount, actually.” Turning from Donovan, he addressed me. “Ms. Castell, I’m Detective Bradford. My partner and I handled Keira’s murder investigation and have been monitoring sightings of Anderson Keeling since he popped back up on the city’s radar about three weeks ago.”
Three weeks? Now I understood why Donovan had been acting so strangely. I thought it’d had something to do with meeting my father. He had stepped away to take a call that night, which surprised me at the time, but I’d passed it off as work related. When I looked over at him, his head dipped a little, but his hand tightened around mine as he thought of that man being anywhere nearby.
“So…did you find him?” I asked quietly.
Detective Bradford hesitated before saying, “Yes, but…Keeling isn’t the one who attacked you.”
“What?” Donovan demanded. “You have him in custody, but you don’t think he did it? Who the fuck else would attack her?”
I grimaced as his grip on me grew painful, and lightly tapped on his hand until he realized the problem and quickly released me. Confusion was thick in the room. I had no idea what was going on. Looking over at the cop, I silently pleaded for an explanation.
After a glance at Donovan, he attempt to answer. “Keeling was picked up outside a convenience store for harassing customers as they left the store. He was in lockup an hour before Reagan was attacked. He’s out of his mind, Donovan. Probably has been for a while. He’s not a threat to you anymore. They’ve got him on a psych hold and he won’t be released any time soon.”
“But,” I said slowly as my exhaustion began to override the adrenaline and confusion, “you said you caught the guy who shot me.”
“We did,” Detective Bradford said. “A man was walking up to the pub when you got shot and chased the perp down. The first officer on scene took him into custody as soon as he arrived. Were you aware of the fact that David Ferguson worked for Marpole Gallery?”
Shock sapped what was left of my strength and I sank into my pillows. “David?
” I shook my head. “No, I…what does he have to do with anything?”
“Is that the fucker who pushed you down the stairs?” Donovan demanded. “That David?”
Detective Bradford grimaced. “Yes. One and the same.”
“David is the one who shot me?” I whispered. “But why?”
“Apparently, Ferguson was the assistant marketing lead for Marpole Galleries and recognized you in the prints for Brandon Frere’s show,” he explained. “He made several defamatory comments to his boss about you and was criticized for being unprofessional. He was warned about his behavior. When one of the prints for Brandon’s show was damaged, he was suspected of doing it, but it couldn’t be proven. However, he was caught destroying one of the prints for Keira’s benefit and was immediately fired. How he ended up at Charlie’s Tavern…we’re not yet sure if it was coincidence or he followed or suspected you would be there. After being fired, Cyrus Marpole neglected to rescind his invitation to the event and David saw you there. Charis said he came in right after you and made several aggressive comments before she threw him out, so we suspect he may have followed you. He’s not admitting to it, though.”
Struggling to comprehend everything, I could only stare at the detective. “So…he shot me? Because of a photo?”
Detective Bradford sighed, shaking his head slowly. “After graduation, Ferguson was involved in another domestic abuse complaint. It was relatively minor, but because of the complaint filed when he pushed you down the stairs, the judge wasn’t inclined to leniency. He served jail time, something he neglected to disclose to Marpole Gallery before being hired there.”
“He should have been in jail this whole fucking time,” Donovan growled.
Shrugging, Bradford continued without addressing his comment. “None of this is your fault, Reagan. Ferguson made his choices, and he’ll face the consequences now. There were witnesses, and your Good Samaritan is more than happy to testify. Ferguson won’t be getting off easy this time. I’ll be in contact in a few days, but for now just know that you’re both safe, okay? Get some rest and focus on healing and making sure you and your baby are all right. We’ll take care of the rest.”
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