by P. G. Forte
He didn’t respond. After a moment, she sat back, sighing discouragement. The chair squawked again, as if in protest. She barely noticed. It had been uncomfortable to start with, and a long night spent seated in it hadn’t improved things. But comfort was not a priority and she refused to think of it. Just as she refused to listen to the bothersome hum of hospital noises as they swirled around her. The East wing of the hospital was undergoing renovation, which meant more noise, longer waits, and increased confusion among the staff. Which might account for the stupidity being shown by her husband’s doctors, Scout decided as she narrowed her eyes, focused her attention and tried again.
“Come back, Nick. Squeeze my hand. Talk to me. Don’t leave me like this,” she begged, her gaze trained on her husband’s hand now, rather than his face. “I need you. I need you.” It wasn’t that she couldn’t stomach the stitches or bruises that marred his usually handsome features. He looked like hell, but it wasn’t that which disturbed her. It was the too blank smoothness of his expression, the seeming lack of emotion, of spirit, of thought, that chilled her soul. Oh, Nick, what’s happened to you? Where have you gone?
I have to know. No matter what it takes. Clasping his hand even more tightly between both of hers, Scout took a deep breath and concentrated, allowing her mind to settle, determined to bridge the gap between them. Until the subtle sound of the door swinging open behind her penetrated her thoughts; interrupting her focus and snapping her mind back to normal consciousness.
“How is he today? Any better?” Lucy asked as she bustled into the room.
Scout could feel Lucy’s concern, it preceded her like a wave. She could feel Marsha’s concern, as well, though hers was more contained. She could feel their eyes on her, and she knew they were expecting her to turn her head, to look at them, to respond in some fashion. Hell, maybe they even thought she might cry.
But, she refused to give anyone the satisfaction of that, even her best friends. And she refused to take her gaze from her husband – for even an instant. What was the point? She knew where her friends were without bothering to look. Even though they were behind her, well out of her line of sight, she knew their positions, their expressions, their thoughts. She knew what they wanted.
But it made no difference what they, or anyone else, might want. Only one thing mattered to her right now. Nick.
“Scout?” Lucy repeated. “Is he any better?”
Scout’s jaw clenched, and she frowned. “No.” Nick had been unconscious when he was admitted to the hospital the night before, and as Lucy could certainly see for herself, that hadn’t changed. Scout had been here for most of the time in between, hanging onto his hand for dear life. Squeezing it—too hard, sometimes, when fear overwhelmed her. Willing him to return the pressure, to return to consciousness. To return to her. But, so far– “Nothing’s changed.”
“Well, what about the doctors?” Marsha asked. “Have you seen them today? They must have told you something?”
Scout snorted. “Nothing worth listening to.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Lucy sounded surprised. “You can’t mean they’re still trying to say he was drunk?”
“It doesn’t matter what they say, does it?” Scout shook her head. “They obviously don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.” According to all the doctors who’d examined him, Nick’s blood alcohol content had been dangerously high when he was brought in: close to .30 per cent, well over the .08 that would have earned him a DUI. He must have been blind drunk when he crashed his car, they insisted, and already half dead from alcohol poisoning.
That’s why he was unconscious, they’d tried over and over to convince her of that. Although, they’d later amended that theory, saying it could also be that the head injuries Nick sustained when he fell out of the car were contributing to the coma.
But Scout wasn’t buying any of it. She could sense their inner uncertainty. Something wasn’t right here, and his doctors had no more idea than she did as to why Nick remained unconscious.
“He couldn’t have been as drunk as they said he was,” Lucy argued. “He only had a glass or two of wine at dinner, three at the most. And maybe some grappa. But nowhere near the dozen or so drinks they were talking about. Certainly not in under an hour! Have you told them that?”
Scout shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I tell them.” She could talk until she was blue in the face, what good would it do? Would it change anything? Would it bring Nick back? No. So, why even bother.
“And how are you doing? Have you slept at all?” Marsha asked. She sounded worried.
Why bother asking a question like that, when you already know what the answer will be? Scout shook her head. “A hospital’s a lousy place to sleep.” It was true enough. Between the beeping of monitors, the murmur of voices, the constant flood of people up and down the hallway, in and out of the room, she was sure she couldn’t have slept through the night if she’d tried.
In reality, however, she hadn’t even attempted it. She’d welcomed the interruptions. She didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t want to run the risk of missing anything.
“Well, we’re here now,” Lucy said, “so if you want to take a nap, or at least close your eyes–”
“No.” Scout shook her head once again.
“You really should, you know,” Marsha urged persuasively. “Why don’t you just try? Lie down for a minute or two. Or just lean back in your chair, and rest your eyes... ”
“I said, no. Forget it. I’m not interested in sleeping.”
Lucy sighed. “Look, Scout, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but it’s not gonna help anyone if you worry yourself sick or pass out from exhaustion.” She moved to stand on the other side of the bed, clenching her hands on the rail. no doubt hoping to catch Scout’s eye and stare her down.
Scout was amused by her friends’ games, but she wasn’t playing, although she could barely keep a smirk from forming on her face. Had they always been this transparent? Had she been that way once, too? “Forget it, Lucy,” she repeated, even more firmly this time. “I mean it. I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to close my eyes.” Not even for a second. “So, quit harping on me.”
She’d made that mistake yesterday, but never again. If only she’d stuck to her plan. If she’d stayed by Nick’s side and not let him out of her sight, maybe none of this would have happened. In fact she was sure that was the case.
Oh, why had she ever looked away? For just one moment, her attention had strayed. Stung by his annoyance with her, when she was only trying to look out for him, she’d backed off. She’d relaxed her vigil and allowed him the space he so clearly wanted. If only she’d been smarter, stronger, clearer. If only she could have that one moment back, to do over again–
She felt like one of those mothers whose child disappears during a routine shopping trip, forever regretful, forever blaming herself for her fateful lapse in judgement. Would she ever recover? No, not if he died, she wouldn’t.
That thought triggered yet another source of guilt. “How’s Cole?” she inquired reluctantly.
“He’s fine,” Lucy admitted. She paused, as though sensing an opportunity, and then added, “But, you know, if you wanted to take a little break, spend some time with him, I could–”
“No.” What she wanted? What difference did that make? This was a triage situation, why was that so hard to understand? It was a matter of priorities. Cole was not in any imminent danger, nor was she. Whereas Nick... hell, she didn’t know what was happening with Nick, other than it was only his body that was here in this room with her now. He was alive, but just barely. His spirit was elsewhere. But where, damn it? Where?
“And Kate? How’s she doing? Is she okay?” Scout still felt a measure of guilt for the scene she’d caused, for passing out in front of her stepdaughter. She knew Nick would be furious with her as well, when he found out. Oh, how she wished she could tell him about it now, and watch the anger kindle in his eyes...
&nb
sp; She’d gladly face her husband’s bad temper. He could rage all he wanted, and it wouldn’t bother her one bit. Bring it on, babe, she thought as she gazed at him, wistfully. Just, please, wake up.
“Kate’s fine. She’s at my house with Cole. I let her and Mandy stay home from school today. They didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“We have to let Lauren know–” Scout began, stopping when she realized who she was talking to. Of course, Lucy would have already thought to contact Lauren; Lucy thought of everything.
“It’s taken care of,” Lucy replied, a little too quickly.
Scout could hear the underlying grimness in her tone. She sighed. “Okay, what happened?” For a moment there was silence, as thought Lucy and Marsha were attempting to communicate without words; attempting to decide how much to say. “Tell me.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Lucy said. “We’ve got everything covered. Both Kate and Cole can stay with us for as long as they need to. It’s not a problem – you know that. Whatever you need, we’ll take care of it.”
Scout nodded. She knew they’d do all they could for her, but the only thing she needed was something no one could give her.
“The same goes for me, you know,” Marsha added.
She nodded again. “I know. And thanks. But what I want, right now, is to know what happened when you called Lauren?” Whatever it was, if it was a problem and it had to do with Kate, Nick would want it taken care of. The least she could do was make sure that it was.
“Well, it seems Miss Lauren is on some kind of spiritual retreat this week,” Lucy said, her voice shaking with fury and indignation. “Apparently, she can’t be bothered with piddly, little, mundane matters—like the fact that her daughter’s distraught, or that her husband was nearly killed in a car wreck.”
“Ex-husband,” Scout corrected automatically, and then almost winced at the heavy, shocked silence that descended over the room.
“Omigod,” Lucy whispered, barely breathing the words. “Oh, Scout, I-I’m so sorry. I–”
Scout shrugged. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“I didn’t think– You know I didn’t mean– I just– ”
“Lucy, stop it,” Scout ordered. “Let it go. It’s all right. Really.” And it really was. She wasn’t hurt or annoyed by Lucy’s slip of the tongue, and she certainly wasn’t jealous of Lauren. She knew the place she held in her husband’s heart. If truth be told, she probably had more reason to resent Nick’s bond with Lucy, or even with Sinead—who’d known him longer and better than any of them—than any ties he might still have to his first wife.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Lucy mumbled miserably.
Scout shook her head. “You didn’t.” You couldn’t, would have been a whole lot closer to the mark. There was very little anyone could say, at the moment, that would make her feel any worse than she already did. She forced a brief smile. “So, I gather Lauren did not ask about visiting hours?”
Lucy sighed. “She didn’t ask about anything. I don’t even know if she understood what I was telling her, if you want to know the truth. I can’t tell you what the hell’s going on out there, but–”
“Some kind of drugs,” Scout replied, without really thinking. And, without really caring that she’d once again reduced both women to shocked silence.
“Why do you say that?” Marsha asked. “Can you–?”
Can you sense it? What more do you know? That’s what she wanted to ask. Scout could hear the words as clearly as if they’d been spoken aloud.
“I don’t know,” Scout lied, not wanting to talk about it now. “I don’t know why I said that.”
Six months ago, in this very hospital, she’d promised Nick she’d have nothing more to do with anything touching on the metaphysical. Had that been a mistake? They’d both been acting out of fear, then. Had they gone too far?
Maybe they had. She’d known yesterday morning that he was in danger, and yet she’d done nothing to stop things, to change things. To save him. Maybe, if she’d paid more attention to the warnings of her heart, if she’d said something sooner, Nick would be safe now.
Or, had she not gone far enough? A promise was a promise, after all; and she’d broken this one a hundred times over, maybe more.
Perhaps, that’s why this was happening now – to teach her a lesson.
“I don’t know anything,” she said, deliberately closing her mind, shutting out the others’ thoughts; shutting out everything but what her own five senses could tell her. “I don’t know anything at all.”
* * *
Gregg couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. His plans had been thwarted. The cop still lived, saved, from what should have been a certain and ignominious death, by one of Gregg’s own people. And it was Cara who had made it possible.
He glared at her where she sat, quailing in the leather chair opposite his own. She looked frightened. She had reason to be. It was just about all he could do to keep from wrapping both hands around her neck and squeezing the life out of her.
It had been a shock this morning, when a teary eyed Lauren came to him with the news that her ex-husband was in the hospital. Hospital? He should have been in the morgue! It had been a bigger shock when, after having made inquires supposedly on Lauren’s behalf, he learned of Liam’s role in rescuing the lucky bastard. But, worst of all was the betrayal he felt when it occurred to him that Liam hadn’t acted alone. He’d had a partner in his crimes, hadn’t he? Someone who’d aided and abetted him. Someone whose reluctance to go to bed last night had been due to the boy’s absence, rather than his presence.
Luckily for Cara, she’d been at school when that realization dawned. It had taken Gregg hours to calm down, even to this degree. Hours he’d spent plotting ways to punish her.
“Explain yourselves,” he growled at them now, making no effort to hide his anger. He wanted Cara to feel his wrath, to know what awaited her. And surely the empath was already aware of it, so what use would serve to try and hide it from him?
“It was my fault,” Liam answered quietly. “Don’t blame Cara. I knew it was against the rules but I... I had to get out. I talked her into letting me go.”
“Why?” Gregg snapped. He wasn’t happy with this stupid show of chivalry.
He was even less happy when Cara blurted, “I-it was important, Gregg. H-he had to go.”
Gregg’s temper spiked higher. She was trying to defend him? Just where was her loyalty, anyhow? He turned his glare back on her, and watched as she wilted once more. “Important? And how would you know that?”
Cara nodded nervously. “W-well ‘cause he g-got a phone call. A message. From a friend wh-who needed to see him.”
“It wasn’t that, so much,” Liam said quickly. “It was probably just the universe’s way of making sure I was in the right place at the right time. A guy would be dead right now, if I hadn’t come along in time to save him.”
Oh, and wouldn’t that be a shame? “I’m sure the universe could have found someone else if you weren’t available,” Gregg muttered. Not that he believed any of that universe crap. Not for a moment.
It had been a nearly perfect crime. And how often did you get one of those? Now, it was just a mess. He scowled at the boy. He would have given a lot to know whether or not Liam was being sincere. Not that it would change the outcome all that much. Sooner or later, he’d have to pay. And Gregg would make sure he did—for this, and for everything else.
Gregg turned once more toward Cara. “A phone call? From who?”
“Who?” Cara’s face went blank. She frowned slightly as her gaze flew to Liam’s face, as though she were trying to remember. As though she were lying through her fucking teeth. “I, I, uh–”
“No one important,” Liam said, moving swiftly to stand beside her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. But was he offering reassurance? Or a warning not to say too much? Gregg didn’t know, nor did he care. Eyes narrowed, he stared at
the marauding hand on Cara’s shoulder with thoughts of sledge hammers and butcher’s knives filling his mind. Or, better yet, pruning shears. He was pretty sure there was a nice little set in the gardening shed. They’d make quick work of those fingers.
Reining in his anger, he managed a sad smile. “I see. So you broke the rules for no one, is that what you’re saying, Liam? Does your place here, with our little family, mean so little to you?”
Liam’s gaze faltered. His eyes stumbled around the room, taking in the bed, the desk. His shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I should send you away for this, you know. Is that what you want?”
“No, it– it’s not what I want,” Liam mumbled. He lifted his eyes to Gregg’s face once again. “I’d like to stay.”
“Very well.” Gregg let his own eyes shift briefly to Cara. He glanced meaningfully at the girl, then back at Liam He shook his head. “But, I’m afraid there will be consequences. Someone has to atone for what you’ve done. No man is an island, you know. We’re all of us connected to each other, all responsible for each other’s actions…”
Liam’s eyes widened. He snatched his hand from Cara’s shoulder and let it fall to his side. Gregg watched in amusement as he stalked over to the fireplace, before turning once again to face him. “Okay, look, I know what you’re saying, but, the thing is, you really shouldn’t blame anyone else for this. It was my fault. It didn’t have anything to do with the phone call I got. It was personal. I just said it was connected because... well, because I really wanted to get out last night, that’s all. I needed to spend some time with my girlfriend.”
A soft gasp broke from Cara’s lips, betraying her shock. She looked hurt, angry. Gregg leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and studied them both, basking in their mutual unhappiness. And enjoying a deep sense of satisfaction. He’d been right about that little bakery slut, after all.
“Well,” he said, at last, nodding at Liam, “I can see that this is going to require some thought. We’ll discuss this again later. You can go now.” Liam turned toward the door, looking partially relieved. Cara started to rise as well. “Not so fast, pet,” Gregg said, as he turned to her. “I want you to stay.” He smiled as her face paled and she sank slowly back into her chair.
