This Time You

by T. M. Cromer

  Believing it was James again, he hesitated before picking up. “Yeah?”

  A voice sobbed his name.

  “Violet? What’s wrong?” It had to be dire if she was this upset.

  “She’s been found, Gabriel! Margie’s been found!”

  “Is she…” A hot tear dripped on his hand, and he stared at it in confusion.

  “She’s alive,” Violet confirmed gently.

  “I’m on my way!” He threw down the phone and ran for the door. Four steps past Jenny’s desk, he remembered his keys and wallet. “Reschedule the day,” he barked on the return trip past her.

  “Is it Margaret?” Jenny jumped up, and her hand fluttered to her throat.

  “She’s been found. I’ll fill you in as soon as I know anything.” He took another long stride then pivoted back. “Better cancel the next few days. I don’t know what shape she’s in,” he admitted past the frog in his throat.

  “Go, Gabe. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “I was blessed the day I hired you, Jen.”

  “Yeah, you were. Now go.”

  Twenty minutes and a raging headache later, Gabriel arrived at Violet’s home. James rushed out to greet him, elation and fear warring for dominance on his face. The same emotions Gabriel was experiencing, too.

  “What do you know?”

  “Right as I got off the phone with you, Mom got a call from the Georgia State Police. They received a call of a woman driving erratically along the highway. Turns out it was Margie.” James ran a shaking hand through his dark hair. “Some guy said she pulled off the road, but when he tried to help her, she freaked the fuck out on him. He called the police, thinking she might be on drugs or something.”

  “She’s alive? Really alive?”

  “Yes.”

  Gabriel fell to his knees as relief took over, and his body began to shake. After all this time, she was coming home. James knelt in front of him and wrapped him in a hug. Together, they wept.

  Chapter 28

  “One of my brothers can stay with the kids if you want to fly with us. I’d offer, but I’m going,” Gabriel stated gruffly.

  Violet placed her hand on his arm. “I appreciate the offer, but I think the children need stability right now. You and James go. Please bring my daughter home.”

  “I will.” He’d come to love her as much as he loved Margaret and her kids. Violet was his family now. Reaching over, he hugged her tightly and took comfort in the contact. Finally, he released her to head home and pack.

  Within three hours, he and James were at the Jacksonville airport, ready to board a flight. A few hours later, they met up with Annie at the Atlanta airport, and she drove them to the hospital where Margaret had been admitted.

  “How is she?” James asked the austere woman behind the desk at the nurse’s station.

  “When can we see her?” Gabriel asked, speaking over him.

  The RN attempted to allay their fear, but Gabriel knew he wouldn’t rest until he touched Margaret and saw with his own eyes she was alive and well.

  Ignoring their impatience, the no-nonsense woman turned to Margaret’s sister. “Are you Annie?”

  “I am.”

  “She said you’d arrive, and she wants to see you first.”

  “All right.” Annie frowned and cast a sidelong glance at James and Gabriel.

  He began to follow, but she turned around and held up a hand. “Give us time, Gabe. We all have a good idea what happened. I suspect she’s in a fragile state.”

  Knowing she was right didn’t make hanging back any easier. “Go.”

  He paced the hall outside Margaret’s room, a caged tiger waiting for the lock to be sprung. James, on the other hand, sat still as a statue, absorbed by the generic landscape across from him.

  “What the hell is taking her so long?” Gabriel wanted to know. James simply shrugged, never taking his eyes from the stupid painting. “How are you so calm, James? You, of all people?”

  “My sister is alive, Gabe. That’s all I care about right now, not my own selfish need to see her.”

  The censure lacerated him, but Gabriel would be damned if he’d apologize for caring.

  A lifetime and a few thousand gray hairs later, Annie returned and nodded to James. “She said you can go in, Jamie. Not Gabe, though.”

  All the air escaped Gabriel’s lungs, and he struggled to inhale again.

  “She doesn’t want to see you,” Annie stated as kindly as she was able. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “No! Screw that. I need to see with my own eyes that she’s all right.” He hated that his voice went from forceful to begging. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I intend to see her.”

  “What’s going on, Annie?” James demanded.

  Helplessness, irritation, and then resolve flew across her face in rapid succession. “Don’t make me the bad guy here, fellas. She’s not up to visiting with anyone right now, but she’s agreed to talk to you, Jamie, knowing you’ll muscle your way in regardless.”

  “Why?” Though he suspected, Gabriel needed it spelled out for him.

  “She’s been abused. She doesn’t want you seeing her in her current condition,” Annie said simply.

  Dear God!

  Abused was the nicest possible way of saying violated. Gabriel went cold all over. In the back of his mind, he’d known it was a probability. But he’d shunned the idea. Sammy and James had implanted the image of her being chained in his mind, and the visual had been bad enough. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and his butt managed to hit the chair behind him when his knees failed to support him any longer.

  Annie offered up a bottled water without comment. The understanding in her eyes was painful.

  “I need to see her, Annie. Please,” he croaked.

  Anguish lit the eyes she cast toward James.

  Gabriel knew she hated keeping him at bay as much as he hated her doing it. Her indecision was all the time he needed to dart past her and storm into Margaret’s room. The sight of her brought him up short. There she was, his forever love. Gaunt. Bruised. Frail looking. But she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

  “Margaret.” It came out like the barest whisper, yet it was still loud enough to gain her attention.

  The eyes she turned his way weren’t the sparkling ones he remembered. There was no love, no happy recognition, no emotion whatsoever. They were cold, flat, and completely lifeless. All moisture left his mouth, and anything he intended to say dried up.

  “I told Annie you were to stay away.” Her tone was colorless and that of a perfect stranger.

  He stepped farther into the room. “I couldn’t, love.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  Her words were a solid iron fist to his gut. He didn’t know what he would have said, because James distracted them both.

  “Good Christ!” James cursed when he saw the condition his sister was in. He rushed to her side, and she raised a pale, shaking hand to ward him off.

  “Don’t! Don’t touch me, Jamie.”

  Hot tears filed one after the other down Gabriel’s cheeks, gaining volume and speed. He could feel them soaking the neckline of his shirt. His anguish was matched by both of Margaret’s siblings. They all wanted to hold her, to comfort, to assure themselves she was real, but touching was the last thing she’d tolerate. He was afraid she’d shatter if any of them tried.

  Jamie and Annie lingered on either side of the bed while Gabriel crossed to the window, unable to walk away but trying to allow the Holts their privacy.

  Lightning flashed in the distance, a network of jagged white lines across the horizon. As he stared out at the darkening Georgia sky, he wondered if he was making it worse for everyone. No one spoke, and the air around them grew heavy.

  Sensing eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder.

  Margaret’s stare was unwavering. “I’d like to talk to you alone.”

  Gabriel frowned because, mere minutes before, she’
d wanted him gone. Perhaps he was off base, but the hard look in Margaret’s eyes gave him the distinct impression their upcoming conversation had nothing to do with their relationship and everything to do with legal issues.

  Annie rose and gestured to Jamie. “We’ll get some coffee.”

  Margaret winced, and her face turned a sickly shade.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriel asked her softly.

  “Yes.”

  He’d be damned if she was, but he nodded absently and crossed to the foot of the bed, knowing instinctively she wanted him no closer.

  Neither spoke until Annie and James cleared the door.

  “I’m sorry I accused you of cheating.” She studied her trembling hands. “Don confessed to doctoring the video.”

  Gabriel remained silent.

  “I killed him,” she whispered.

  Time stopped along with his heart. “Did you confess that to the police?” Please, God, no!

  A ghost of a smile touched her chapped lips and disappeared. “I was the girlfriend of a criminal attorney. I had enough sense not to admit to murder.”

  Good, he could work with that. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  Think, Gabriel! Think!

  When his heart resumed its regular pace, he strode to the door and closed it. Forcefully transitioning to lawyer mode, he approached the bed. “I don’t want you to say anything to anyone about his death until I can get you a good attorney, Margaret.”

  She winced when he said her name, a reaction similar to when Annie mentioned coffee.

  Gabriel watched her closely, unsure how to proceed.

  “Will you help me?” Margaret’s voice only wavered slightly before she lifted her chin and met his steady gaze.

  How did she even need to ask?

  He’d die for her.

  Gabriel shoved down his personal feelings and did a mental run-through of what it would take to help her. He was going to do everything in his power to make this go away, but he needed to be honest with her regarding the law.

  “Margaret, I’d defend you if I could, but I’m not licensed in the state of Georgia. I promise we’ll find you the best. In the meantime, I can petition the court to allow me pro hac vice if this goes to trial.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Some states make an exception and will allow an attorney licensed in another state to work a case. There may be conditions applied, like I’m second chair or I’ll have to work closely with a local firm.”

  She nodded. Wringing her hands, she said, “I don’t know where I was held or how long I drove. I just grabbed his keys and took off, praying to God I’d find help.”

  “The police can try to use reverse GPS on the vehicle you were driving. If they can’t, they can try to determine a location based on how far you traveled and a number of other things. They’ll find him.” He took a deep breath in preparation of his next question. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll need to if I’m to defend you, Margaret.”

  Again, she winced.

  “Why does it bother you if I say your name?”

  Her head came up, and in her eyes, he saw revulsion.

  For him?

  His stomach flipped.

  * * *

  Witnessing his pain, Margie found it difficult to feel anything. She’d turned off the feeling part of herself months ago. She’d had to in order to survive. With the minor exception of worry for her children’s welfare, the only thing she’d allowed herself to feel was cold, hard logic and the ingrained knowledge that she’d have her revenge on Don—one way or another.

  “Maybe for the immediate future, you should call me something else,” she suggested, avoiding his stricken gaze.

  “Like a made-up name?” he tried to joke. The strain around his eyes and mouth told her it was a supreme effort.

  “Margie’s fine. Just not… not…” She could do it. She could say her damned name. “Margaret. Not Margaret,” she gritted out. “And I’ll tell you what happened if or when I need to. Not before.”

  He frowned at her hard tone, but she shrugged it off. This was about her recovery. Her ability to cope. Not his. Not right now.

  “Have you seen my children?”

  “Yes. I’ve been in touch with them almost daily.”

  “H-how are they?” She could sense he was weighing his words. “Just tell me, Gabe.”

  His brows clashed together, and Margie assumed it was at the abbreviated use of his name. She’d never called him anything but Gabriel since they’d met. Perhaps because Opal had always used his full name, she’d done the same. But since her captivity, Margie had had to compartmentalize names, relationships, the whole works. Especially regarding him.

  “I imagine they’re going to be happy to have their mother returned to them,” he said.

  “Pfft. That’s a generic statement if I’ve ever heard one.”

  His mouth quirked in a quicksilver half smile, but it dropped just as quickly.

  They stared at each other. His rawness and her reticence on display.

  Shutters came down, and he did his best to hide his reaction from her. Circling the side of the bed, he sat on the edge. “May I?”

  Margie stared at his outstretched hand, trying to decide if touching him was wise. She hadn’t freaked out when the doctor examined her, but this was Gabriel. This was the man she’d once confused with Don—and Don with him—as she lay fevered during her captivity.

  As he started to withdraw, she tentatively placed her palm in his. He did no more than entwine his fingers with hers, but panic began to brew in her chest, and she jerked her hand away.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “Don’t blame yourself, okay?” She leaned forward, looking deeply into his glistening eyes and trying to ease a little of his suffering. “It’s me, Gabe. It’s all me.”

  “We’re going to get through this. Together,” he promised.

  She didn’t have the heart to say they never would. “The kids?”

  His severe look said he didn’t miss her avoidance. “Kaley took it harder than Scotty and Aaron. She blamed herself because of your argument the day you… disappeared.”

  “She would.” Love for her eldest filled her heart. Margie almost sighed her relief to be able to experience some semblance of deeper emotion. “And now?”

  “Stephen has been working with her as a favor to me. Helping her see this really had nothing to do with her.” Gabriel toyed with the blanket by Margie’s fingers, as if he fought the urge to touch her again. “He actually counseled all the children.”

  “Good. That’s good.” She crossed her arms to remove the temptation of her hand.

  He rubbed the back of his neck, and she sensed he was struggling over whether he should tell her more or not.

  “Just say it, Gabe.”

  “James told me earlier today Scott filed for sole custody.”

  “Over my fucking dead body,” she growled.

  Another half smile twisted his lips. “Yeah, those were the grounds.”

  “I guess he’ll have to amend his paperwork since I’m still breathing.”

  A commotion at the door caught their attention. Two police detectives entered with James and Annie fast on their heels.

  Margie knew the time of reckoning was upon her for slicing Don’s throat.

  Chapter 29

  The detectives asked an ungodly number of questions, and Margie looked at Gabriel before answering each one. He would give a subtle nod or shake of his head to indicate what she should or shouldn’t reply to.

  “There were other women there,” she said softly. “Before me. I don’t know what became of them, but I have a good guess.”

  James cast her a sharp look.

  She returned it with a pleading one of her own. “If those women can be identified and their families notified, then it should be done, Jamie.”

  The detective in charge noted their ex
change and asked about it.

  “I’m a… psychic medium,” James finally confessed, ill at ease. Usually, speaking to anyone about their gifts brought ridicule, but her brother knew the difference between right and wrong, and wrong was to let those victims continue to go missing without at least attempting to find their remains.

  One of the cops snorted, and the other appeared intrigued.

  “Ramirez, don’t tell me you’re buying into this crap.”

  “I won’t rule anything out.”

  Margie glanced down at the skeptical detective’s nameplate. Jones. If she needed to have any future dealings with the police, she’d be sure to ask for Ramirez if he was available.

  “Did you find the cabin? How far is it from here?” James asked, already rubbing the back of his neck in anticipated aggravation.

  “We did. Thirty miles. Give or take a few,” Ramirez replied. His attention snapped to Annie, who seemed like she was trying to blend with the drywall. “Are you psychic too?”

  “No. Not in the way you think.”

  “But you have a gift.” His voice lowered on the word “gift.”

  Margie knew a believer when she saw one, and Ramirez had readily accepted the idea Jamie was able to talk to the dead.

  Annie’s sickly pallor worried Margie. She wondered if perhaps the detective’s avid curiosity was making Annie ill at ease.

  The two of them locked gazes, and finally, Annie spoke. “I’m an empath. I get the occasional premonition. I can’t talk to spirits like Jamie or get images of impending events like our sister Sammy.”

  “Wait. Are you saying your entire family can do these things?” Jones demanded.

  There was a distinctive sneer residing on his face, and Margie found her irritation spiking.

  “Yes. Our entire family has some sort of ability,” she snapped. “Open your mind, and you just might discover there is a world beyond your small little scope.”

  Gabriel snorted his amusement. “Welcome back, love. I was wondering when that fighting spirit was going to strike out.”