Gabby would believe him. She’d at least give him the benefit of the doubt. She was like that—one of the most selfless, honest, and determined people he knew.
The thought twisted his heart.
Riley remembered the first time he’d met her. She’d smelled like smoke—she’d been at the scene of an arson. There was ash in her hair and smudges under her eyes. She’d been the cutest thing he’d ever seen.
They’d both tried to prod a parrot down from a Bradford pear tree outside the apartment building Riley had just moved into. They’d practically been inseparable after that.
Riley missed her. Missed her intelligent eyes, the words that slipped out, her tenacity. Even more than that, he missed feeling her hand in his. He missed her smile that made him feel like a million bucks. He missed the possibility of spending forever with her.
Right now, Gabby wasn’t here. She couldn’t be here. He knew her well enough to know she’d give up everything to help him, and he couldn’t let her do that. Riley couldn’t hold her back when she had so many good things waiting in her future.
“Do you understand, Riley?” Sophia asked.
With a stiff neck, he nodded. He hadn’t heard a word she said. “Yeah, I understand.”
She leaned closer. “Riley, you realize who Mr. Parksley is, right?”
He offered a half-hearted shrug. “Not really.”
“He’s the former CFO of the very hospital where you’re being treated. He’s retired now, but people at River Crest General love him. Going around and bad mouthing him isn’t a good idea.”
Realization washed over Riley. This made it a little easier to see why people doubted his story. Mr. Parksley was an upstanding member of the community.
But that still didn’t mean that Mr. Parksley hadn’t killed someone.
CHAPTER 8
Later that day, after Sophia had dropped him off at home, Riley took another walk. His parents’ neighborhood was lovely with large lots that had plenty of trees and houses that were as unique as the residents. All of the properties backed up to the pristine lake. Many had piers with gazebos at the end, and people often went boating in the summer. The area was located in Alexandria, Virginia, and was a nice retreat from the busyness of D.C.
He paused by the lake, his hands tucked in the pockets of his leather coat, and stared at the house in the distance.
Mr. Parksley’s house.
He knew he’d told Sophia that he’d drop it, but he’d been drawn back to this place anyway. Apparently, he wasn’t very good at dropping things.
As he stared at his neighbor’s spacious back yard, the gunshot echoed in his mind.
His entire body tightened. Suddenly, he felt like he was back in his old law office. An image of himself at his desk filled his thoughts. He remembered his last day at the office. He’d been thinking about marrying Gabby, about beginning a new chapter in his life. He’d pictured what Gabby would look like in her wedding dress, what it would be like to share a home, how they’d eventually grow old together.
His lungs tightened as his thoughts turned dark. The last thing he remembered was a shadow crossing the doorway. Then everything went black.
Eternally black, it seemed sometimes.
He found out later that a psychopathic maniac had stepped into his office and pulled the trigger. It had resulted in Riley being in a coma, fighting for his life. He had no recollection of that period of his time, though.
His therapist said that sometimes the mind shuts out traumatic experiences, but that it was a blessing because some memories were just too painful to remember.
His next clear cognitive moment was of waking up in the hospital.
In-between, there were several blurred images. He had the vague recollection of excruciating pain. He remembered bright lights and beeps and strange smells. But his first clear memory was of seeing his parents at his bedside.
Gabby had arrived at the hospital shortly after that. The effect of the whole experience had been evident on her face. Her lovely skin seemed paler than usual, her eyes more hollow, her movements more shaky. Riley couldn’t even imagine what she’d gone through while he was out.
He’d only found out after he was discharged from the hospital that Scum, the very man who’d put Riley in the hospital, had abducted Gabby while he was in a coma. She’d tried to keep it quiet so Riley wouldn’t worry and “hamper his recovery.” Sure, Riley had been going through an ordeal. But so had she. She needed someone who could be strong for her, and Riley wasn’t that person right now. He had trouble doing simple things for a while, things like paying his bills, remembering appointments, and even buttoning his shirt. He’d improved vastly from those early days.
He’d stuck around Norfolk for a month or so after being released from the hospital. But he’d had appointments every day with his occupational therapist, his speech therapist, his TBI rehabilitation physician, his neuropsychologist, and his physical therapist. The list was probably longer than that.
Of course, he couldn’t drive himself anywhere, so he had to rely on other people to get him there. He’d had to rely on Gabby mostly, though a few others had pitched in. Losing his independence had been hard to stomach.
When he’d realized the strain everything was putting on Gabby, he knew something had to change. It was just too much for her. Riley knew she’d endure it, that she’d claim to be unbothered by the stress she was under, but he loved her too much to let her go through that.
After a lot of prodding from his family and talking to his therapist, Riley had realized the best thing to do was to come back to his parents’ house for the remainder of his recovery. He could live with them until he figured things out.
He’d sublet his apartment to another cousin, Olivia, who’d just gotten accepted into culinary school in Norfolk. His parents had wanted him to end the lease, but he wouldn’t do it. Letting go of his apartment would be too final, and he wasn’t ready to make that kind of decision.
Leaving Gabby—breaking the news to her—had been one of the hardest days of his life. His heart had felt torn, and he’d second-guessed himself more than once.
But his appointments were a full-time job. He was a full time job, and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to be strong, a rock, someone dependable who made life easier for the woman he loved. The truth was, he’d heard the statistics. Dr. Perkins constantly talked about it.
Many couples find their relationships with each other change dramatically. Brain injury survivors often have new personality traits, challenges, fears, and limitations. This also means that many TBI victims behave differently in their relationships. Initially the changes seem temporary. However, sometimes these changes can last years. Divorce or separation is likely.
“Can I help you?”
Riley looked up and saw Mr. Parksley staring at him. The man wore a jacket, work gloves, and a faded baseball cap. He had a rake in his hands and a trash bag tucked into his back pocket, but Riley didn’t see any piles of leaves anywhere.
Riley had drifted into his own world and hadn’t even heard the man approach. Something close to fear tightened around his neck, began to swim through the murkiness of his mind.
He had to work through his rising panic.
After all, the police had said Mr. Parksley didn’t know which neighbor had called the police. Since Riley and his family lived four houses down, there was a good chance Mr. Parksley didn’t realize Riley had been the whistle blower.
Lord, help me now. Please.
“I’m sorry. I was just walking around the lake. I didn’t mean to intrude.” Riley wanted to ask questions, to prod, but he knew better. He needed to play it cool.
Mr. Parksley eyed him a moment. “You’re Ron and Evelyn’s son, right?”
Riley nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black leather coat. He tried to look casual, tried to subdue the anxiety that threatened to control him. “I am.”
He dipped his head in a sign of remorse. “Sorry to hear
about what happened.”
People often didn’t know what to say to him. A lot of times they said the wrong thing. Riley really didn’t need to be told that God had a purpose for this. Or that things wouldn’t ever be the same. Or that no one really ever knew what life would hand him or her.
Riley knew those things and didn’t need to be reminded.
But, as always, he nodded. Thanked them. Walked away. He chose courtesy over a knee jerk reaction.
Riley pointed to Mr. Parksley’s house. “Nice place. You probably have the best view of the lake in the neighborhood.”
He looked out at the water and smiled, the lines around his eyes deepening with wrinkles. “That’s what sold me on the house. I’m retired now, and my wife and I might downsize. But this place has always been my oasis.”
“Retired, huh? Sounds nice.” There was a slight tremble in Riley’s voice, as if his body and mind weren’t working in sync. Evidence that his repressed memories were stronger than his willpower. That fact was hard to stomach.
He nodded, his breaths coming out in icy puffs. “Now I have time to fish and whittle.”
“Whittle? Really?” Riley asked.
Mr. Parksley nodded. His hazel eyes didn’t look like the eyes of a killer. No, he seemed like a grandfather. But that didn’t change what Riley had seen and heard. If he doubted himself then there was no chance anyone else would believe him.
“Sure. I carve ducks, vases, bowls,” Mr. Parksley said. “You name it, I’ve tried to create it.”
An idea began brewing in Riley’s mind. “I bet my mom would love something like that for her birthday. Do you sell your work around here?”
He shrugged nonchalantly, leaning on his rake for a moment. “Mostly I just make it for friends. Would you like to see some?”
Riley nodded. “Would I ever.”
His pulse spiked as they started toward the house in the distance. He was going inside Mr. Parksley’s place. He’d get to see for himself if anything looked amiss.
Riley could be walking into a trap, he realized. Mr. Parksley could know that Riley called the police and lure him inside to silence him, to eliminate the only witness to the crime.
The thought seemed so paranoid. But was that a real possibility? Riley couldn’t be sure. Nothing seemed sure anymore. Regardless, his muscles tightened as his instincts kicked in. He had to stay alert and on guard.
His life could depend on it.
CHAPTER 9
Riley followed Mr. Parksley across the crispy grass, remembering when he’d walked this path not too long ago in order to peer inside his neighbor’s home. He remembered the gunshot. The shoe. The blood.
As soon as he set foot on the deck, doubt crept in and he slowed. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. But he couldn’t stop himself from continuing. He wanted answers.
Mr. Parksley leaned his rake against the brick exterior and rested his hand on the doorknob. “Excuse the house. I fired my cleaning lady last week.”
The cleaning lady? Was that who died? But what kind of cleaning lady wore Jimmy Choos?
“Was she missing too many cobwebs?” Riley asked, keeping his voice light.
“No, but a few pieces of my wife’s jewelry went missing. I can’t say for sure it was Heidi, but not many people come into my home.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. What company did you use? My parents are looking for someone now, and I’d hate for them to use someone less than honorable.”
Breath in, breath out, Riley repeated to himself. He had to remain in control of his body and his mind.
“Wintergreen Cleaning. Use at your own risk, that’s all I can say.” He let out an airy laugh.
Riley stored the information away.
As soon as Riley stepped inside Mr. Parksley’s, his lungs tightened. After crossing the living room, Riley lingered in the entryway to the kitchen. Images of that night flashed into his mind. So clearly, almost as if he’d studied a photograph for days on end, he could picture the blood there.
Had Mr. Parksley cleaned it up? Had the police used luminal to check for evidence the blood had been there? Even more troubling—whose blood had it been? The housekeeper, Heidi? His wife? Someone else altogether?
“Are you okay?” Mr. Parksley asked, peering at him from the fireplace.
Riley snapped back to reality and nodded. “I’m fine. My brain just doesn’t work like it used to.” He thought his cognitive abilities were starting to work just fine, but he would use that for an excuse for now. It was better than the absolute truth—that Riley thought his neighbor was a killer.
Mr. Parksley shook his head, taking his hat off and running his hand through thinning gray hair. “My friend in the police force got shot in the head during a drug bust. I remember how difficult it was for him afterward.”
“How’s your friend doing today?”
Mr. Parksley cringed. “Don’t ask.”
Riley already regretted that he had. He’d heard too many horror stories. While he wanted to face reality, he had to hang on to the positive right now.
“So, this is some of my handiwork.” Mr. Parksley pointed to a shelf above his fireplace. There were all kinds of wooden ducks, a boat, a bear, and even a totem pole. Each was intricately designed with detailed lines and grooves and textures.
“I’m impressed.” Riley stepped closer and examined one of the ducks. “Are these the decoys that people sometimes use when hunting?”
“Not these, but that’s how I got started. The ones I make now are more ornamental.”
Riley glanced back at him, hoping his voice sounded light and curious rather than accusatory. “Are you a hunter?”
“I have been in the past. Not so much anymore. Now I whittle.”
“I’d love to learn sometime, if you ever have a free moment.” Riley wasn’t sure where the words had come from. Whittling did have its appeal, truth be told. But he knew his motives ran deeper than that.
Mr. Parksley studied him for a moment. “Really? It’s not something most young people are interested in.”
“I’m not most young people.”
Finally, he nodded. “I suppose I could teach you the basics.”
His decision surprised Riley. Had Mr. Parksley’s accommodation been sincere? Perhaps. But mostly it was made out of pity. Riley could identify the emotion from a mile away lately.
Of course, the man could have other motivations as well. Maybe Mr. Parksley suspected Riley was behind the phone call to the police and wanted to keep an eye on him. Riley needed to examine every possibility while remaining on guard.
“How about Wednesday?”
Riley tried to remember his schedule. Sometimes those details were the hardest for him to keep straight. He pulled out his phone and brought up the calendar. “I could be here after physical therapy. Say around three.”
“Let’s do it. It will be good. For both of us.”
Riley nodded and forced a smile. “You’re right. It will be.”
CHAPTER 10
“Riley, did you have a nice walk?” His mom looked up from the kitchen table where she was working on a crossword puzzle and drinking hot tea with his dad. Her smile was a little too bright and overdone to be sincere. She was putting on a show, trying to make Riley think everything was okay.
Riley nodded as he poured himself some coffee, its rich aroma soothing him temporarily. “I did.”
“Glad to hear that.”
Riley leaned against the kitchen counter, contemplating ways to carefully broach the subject on his mind. He decided just to dive in instead. “I want my driver’s license back, Mom and Dad.”
He needed some independence. He needed to feel whole again. He knew he couldn’t rush anything, but he needed to get on with his life as soon as possible.
His parents exchanged one of their worried glances. His dad finally spoke, “I don’t know if you’re ready for that, Son.”
“I can be evaluated by the Driver Rehabilitation program. They should be able to say if I�
��m fit to get back on the road again or not. Of course, my doctor will have to approve also. But he says I’m progressing quickly, much faster than he thought I would.”
“You really think you’re ready for this?” his dad asked. A wrinkle formed between his eyes.
Riley nodded slowly but certainly. “I’m ready to take steps forward. I can’t keep living like this. I feel like I’m twelve again.”
“I’m sure that losing your independence is difficult,” his dad said with a deep frown. “It’s going to take time before things start to feel normal again.”
“Everyone handling me with kid gloves isn’t helping me.”
The silence felt strained between them.
“You can’t rush things,” his dad finally said.
“I want to get back to work as soon as I can. And I want to start taking a mixed martial arts class.” He wasn’t sure where that last part had come from, but it seemed like a good idea. If nothing else, the classes would keep his mind occupied and would help his body grow stronger.
Both of his parents stared at him like he was going off the deep end.
“Mixed martial arts?” his mom asked.
Riley nodded. “Todd Andrews has his own studio. I’d like to start there.”
“The Todd Andrews you used to go to high school with?” his mom asked.
“That’s right. I ran into him at church this morning.”
“You’ll need approval from your doctor,” his dad finally said.
“I know that. I’ll ask tomorrow when I’m at my check up.”
If what had happened with Scum had taught Riley anything, it was that he never wanted to be unprepared again. He needed to be ready to fight for his life. Mixed martial arts would be a great starting place.
***
Riley’s doctor gave him permission to train—albeit at a low impact and slow pace—and that very day his mom dropped him off at the dojo for the first lesson.
While You Were Sweeping Page 3
