“You need to go to the hospital.”
She didn’t react to his voice.
“We were robbed. I found you like this. Do you understand me, Lindsey?” His voice was soft and soothing. The cold edge was gone. It had a coaxing sweetness. Was he serious? He was actually taking her to the hospital? That was unprecedented. His eyes ran all over her face and body. It must have been bad this time. She’d never seen him looking so fearful before. He never before had to worry about her cover story.
“Do you understand? I need to know you understand before I call the police. Before I get you the help you need.”
Her eyes rolled up in her head and he gently shook her shoulders. “Lindsey? Please, understand.”
Please? Elliot never, ever used please. This must be awfully important. She had better obey him. She nodded slowly, but her tongue felt like it was coated in molasses. She mumbled. “I understand.”
His face relaxed and he smiled. “That’s good, sweetheart. Good. You’ll feel better soon, you’ll see.”
Good. That was good. She pleased him. The fog in her head swallowed her up again.
****
“Is that better, dear?”
Lindsey smiled at the older, gray-haired nurse who adjusted the pillows under her head. She was short and barely overweight. She had a kind, gentle manner. “Yes. Thank you.”
The lady patted her hand. “You poor thing. What a fright you’ve given your poor husband. He hasn’t left that chair since yesterday.”
Elliot was now out in the hallway, discussing her care, no doubt, with the doctor. She turned her head away and stared out the window. She only turned back when she heard voices entering her room.
“Honey, this is Officer Collins. Can you speak to him?”
She glanced up at Elliot who had positioned himself near her head, and was gripping her hand. She let it lay limply in his. She nodded slowly after a long, warning look from Elliot.
“It looks like whoever did this to you got most of your jewelry, and some cash you had in your purse. I’m sorry, Ma’am.”
Really? Wow. Elliot took his covers pretty seriously. The numbness that had overtaken her body seemed to have extended into her brain. There was just… nothing left inside her. There was no passion. No anger. No pain. No fear. No love. No hate. It was all she’d ever wanted. In the heat of every beating she took, this was all she longed for. And now? Now she’d finally gotten here. She didn’t care if Elliot lied or if he told the truth. It simply all ceased to matter to her anymore. She ceased to matter.
She could, however, say whatever needed to be said. “Oh, that’s too bad.”
The officer visibly swallowed as his gaze traveled over her. What did he see? A loving husband at the side of his beloved, but violated wife? A wife who finally had the visible bruises on her face, to match what she usually hid underneath her clothes? She had bruises everywhere. There wasn’t a place on her body he left alone. There wasn’t much in her soul that he hadn’t already crushed either. But then, she let him do it. She’d given herself over to him.
“Can you remember anything?”
The poor officer was young. Maybe in his mid-twenties. He was faced with Elliot Johanson, local hero and humanitarian, watching him interrogate his badly beaten up wife. The poor kid just wanted to do his job and itched to leave the room. He didn’t know where to put his eyes. He kept wincing whenever he met her gaze.
Yes, everything. I can remember my entire life until the moment my husband shoved me so hard into my bed, he knocked me out. I remember that.
Instead, she said, “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything. I was suddenly pushed into the door and everything went black.” She repeated what Elliot instructed her to say.
The officer diligently wrote in his notebook, glad for a diversion to keep from staring at her. She didn’t blame him. She must’ve looked pretty horrifying. Seeing her face in the mirror, she realized for once, it reflected the rest of her body. It was unheard of. It illustrated how out of control Elliot had become. He would hate that about himself and would blame her. He would see it as her fault for making him so mad.
“There was nothing before that? No sound? No strange noises? Perhaps a creak or footstep?”
“Nothing. I finished my morning workout and was going to take a shower. Elliot had left for the day already and I was alone.”
The officer nodded. “Yes, I noted that. I’m sorry, Ma’am. If you remember anything, at any time, no matter how small of a detail, please call me.”
“I will.” Never. She watched as Elliot quickly took the considerate, conscientious officer’s card. As if. He’d no doubt shred it and she’d never see it again. She turned her head and stared back out the window. It was raining. Hard.
****
THE MAN’S heart nearly stopped at the news. Lindsey. She was in the hospital with extensive injuries. Someone had broken into her house. He turned away from the computer screen. He didn’t think anything could touch his heart with so much intensity, but hearing that Lindsey was hurt did just that. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fine anymore. He had to know if she were really okay. How though? How could he ever get close to her?
He sprang out of the desk chair. Fuck it. He was going to find her. There was nothing else he could do. The group could do whatever they had to do to him. He had nothing left, but Lindsey. And his gut was screaming that she needed him. So if she ended up being the reason he would die finally, then so be it.
Chapter Sixteen
“So this is his problem.”
Lindsey focused her distant gaze on Cal Hopkins’ face who was standing before her bed. She was brought home yesterday and Elliot even hired a nurse to care for her. Cal stepped forward to sit in the chair the nurse set beside the nightstand with Lindsey’s water, pain pills and the nurse’s own pills. The Xanex allowed Lindsey to gently float away.
“What do you want?” she inquired warily.
“I knew Elliot was too perfect. Wealthy. Successful entrepreneur. Handsome. A beautiful wife. And to top it all off, the man became a war hero. It was almost as if he had me guiding and coaching him all these years. He’s quite brilliant at forming a noble reputation for himself. But there is always something else with these guys who need the adulation of public office and power. They are cheaters, or have a thing for hookers, or cross dress, or simply drink too much… whatever it is, if you dig deep enough, you will find that they always have some kind of vice. And now I know what Elliot’s is. He’s a wife-beater.”
She met his cold, fish-like eyes, thinking he should have been a reptile, but remained silent.
He smiled slowly. “Good. I like that. You can keep quiet. I assumed as much, since there was no clue about this anywhere. I vetted everyone close to you two. Every friend, acquaintance, staff member, or temporary employee. I made sure they all had nothing but rave reviews and glowing reports concerning both of you. But we all know there is no such thing as perfect, don’t we? I couldn’t put my finger on what it was at first. You had this strange, Stepford wife trance going on. Now I get it. You’re good, Mrs. Johanson. Unusually good at hiding things. You must have screwed up big time to end up like this. He’s usually much more careful, isn’t he?”
She pressed her lips tightly together.
“It’s okay. I know. I don’t need your input. I trust, then, you will keep quiet. And this? Well, this is just how it is, right? And what he does? Are you going to be a problem for me?”
She stared into his eyes as goose bumps broke out all over her skin. Then, slowly but firmly, she shook her head. She was never a problem in the past and would continue to never be.
Cal stood up as he slid his hands into his pockets. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Heal up quickly, Mrs. Johanson, I’ll be needing that face to look pretty.”
Once Cal left and the door clicked shut, she grabbed the painkiller bottle of pills next to her head and downed two more.
****
The news of Lindsey’s h
ospitalization was instantly posted all over the local paper. Lindsey called Jessie within an hour of it to explain she was fine, just a little bruised, but overall, very lucky. Jessie just played along, placating and pretending to believe her. As soon as she was off the phone, however, she contacted Noah with what she knew.
Noah was in front of their house. It was a pretty, lovely, really, Colonial house. The front had four tall columns supporting the roof, which was three stories up. A balcony with a half moon, wrought-iron rail, hung over the center of the house, above the massive, double-doored front entry. The grounds were landscaped to utter perfection. Every shrub was trimmed into perfectly symmetrical shapes, and not a weed or undesired rock existed. Lindsey had to be hospitalized and his heart ached. What could he have done to her? How much was she suffering now? And there she was: trapped and alone with the very fiend who inflicted it on her.
He closed his eyes in frustration, wishing Will had come along. Will could have easily climbed up the side of the house using the damn ivy trellis, if need be, to get into the house unnoticed. He’d slip in undetected, and no doubt, grab Lindsey from her bed before jumping out the window and rappelling down to safety. Will could easily save her, just as he did Jessie.
But Noah wasn’t Will, and he had no idea how to begin such an operation. He stared for an hour at the stately Colonial house, trying to decide what to do. His rented SUV had tinted windows and was non-descript, so he doubted anyone knew he was there. So he just stared at their home, but learned very little. Mid-afternoon, a man started running the electric hedge clippers before hacking away at the shrubbery fence that separated the sidewalk from their property. A delivery man dropped a package on their front step and some kids dashed by on skateboards. Teenage girls giggled as they shared a phone. Dogs barked. Traffic intermittently passed by. It was like every street of any upper class neighborhood.
There was, however, a groomed, polished, niceness to the area. It was the better version of suburbia, but there were no multimillion dollar homes. Nonetheless, these were all well-to-do homes. And the neighborhood attracted the kinds of people who worked at well-paid, professional jobs. The area actually had the highest per capita employment, owing to the many government installations that were headquartered in Arlington. This was easily reflected in the Johanson’s neighborhood. Noah had to give it to Elliot: he was a master at cultivating a likable, popular image. Prosperous, yet approachable.
Noah spent the hours flying there on his smart phone, learning all he could about Elliot Johanson. The man appeared “good” and had numerous charities, which he generously sponsored. He also had awards and honors, and important people who endorsed him by spouting positive rhetoric on his behalf. He was rich, obscenely so, but the way he pretended to shun it, gave the media only more reason to respect him. Besides, he was a war hero and reported to have saved two men in his platoon.
There were plenty of photos of Elliot and Lindsey over the years, attending different military and political functions and dinners, along with numerous banquets and awards. He often guest lectured at colleges and business conferences; but always, Lindsey stayed unnoticed in the background. Very little was ever said by her and she didn’t do interviews. Her quotes were few and far between, if they existed at all. There was always much mention of Will and Jessie’s connection to Lindsey, as well as her father. However, all that did was play into the tragic circumstances under which Lindsey suffered. It only made her beauty, as well as her fragility that much more compelling and mysterious. It was no wonder Elliot chose her to be his wife.
Noah didn’t know what to do, now that he rushed to get there. Frantic. Crazed. He was surprised he wasn’t flagged down somewhere and put on a no-fly list or something. His agitation, not to mention his temper, were unapologetic and rude. He had to get to Lindsey as fast as he could. Now, that he was there, he didn’t know what to do. Should he storm in there? Or call the police first and then go save her? What? What should he do? Knock on the door? Could she even walk? He had Jessie call there just to confirm Lindsey was home. Elliot (naturally) claimed she was sleeping and he’d have her call Jessie back. Both Jessie and Noah knew it would only be after Elliot had a chance to coach her.
The thought of how injured she might be rendered him into a state of paralysis.
The street, the house, the sunshine was so normal, and so innocuous; he was even starting to doubt his own conclusions. What if he had grossly misread all the signs? What if he was wrong?
But no. Jessie nearly broke down, so he had to be correct. He was correct. He just didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
He could only wish he were Will. He wished for the bravery and courage to vanquish all of his enemies, foreign and domestic. But he did no more really, than vaccinate people’s pets. He was always very proud of his career and life’s path. Now, however, he never felt so helplessly inept.
His cell phone rang. Jessie. “She was slurring. She’s on something. She claims a stranger broke into the house and attacked her. He stole all her jewelry and cash. She is fine. Banged up. But will be fine. My ass. She is not, Noah. She is not fine. She sounds like a complete zombie. Oh my God, I need to be there.”
“You can’t be. You cannot come, Jessie. Besides, I’m here.”
“This imminent birth is the only thing keeping me here, you know.”
That comment finally gave him a reason to smile, for the first time in twenty-four hours. “I just… I don’t know what to do. Should I go to the door? And what if he won’t let me see her? That’s a given. There is always someone there with her. Whether it’s the staff, Elliot or that man who is running Elliot’s campaign, the guy she told you about. He seems to nearly live here. I think Elliot is purposely not allowing her to be alone. I don’t know, we might need to wait until she comes outside. Alone. Or until I can get to her without him knowing. There is no telling what he’d do if he spotted me. Elliot will know that I know and he’ll sense something big is up. So no, Jessie, I can’t just appear out of nowhere.”
Jessie screeched in frustration with a litany of curses. “Fuck! You have valid points, and I think you’re right. You will have to stay there and just stake out the house. Wait until you can get to her. And when you do, get the hell out of there. Just go. Get as far away from that house, that town, and that state as you can. You got it?”
“Yeah, of course. But, you think I should sit here and what? Stalk her?”
“Yes. Sit there and stalk her. What else can you do? I’ll keep calling her. I’ll encourage her to get up and go outside as soon as she can. She sounds so doped up, it probably would do her good.”
“Maybe you should just tell her I’m here.”
“No, I know what measures Lindsey will take to ignore things. And deny things. And pretend things are fine. She has to maintain the image, and the reputation of perfection. She can do it, Noah! She can fully pretend that this wasn’t what it really is. She’s done it for all these years. By telling her that we know, well, I don’t know what she might do. You have to get her alone before we can let on that we know. It’s a lethal game of chess until we get to her. The only thing we have going, is that neither of them suspect that we know. They also don’t know about Tessa figuring out her story was completely false. So, yes, I want you to sit in front of my sister’s house for as many days as it takes.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. Was this really happening?
Yes, it was. He waited until dark before returning to his motel room.
****
The phone call brought Lindsey groggily out of a restless sleep and she barely opened an eye. Shit. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. The room was gloomy and she had to shuffle through the mess of her nightstand, looking for the phone. It was the house phone ringing, so most likely, not Elliot.
“’ello?” Was that her? Her voice didn’t sound right. Her tongue seemed so heavy and thick.
“Linds?” Jessie’s voice sang over the line, sounding strong and sure. Lindsey li
fted it away from her ear. Jesus, did Jessie have to yell at her?
“How are you today?” She was calling twice a day and always asked Lindsey the same things each time. How was she? How was she feeling? Had she been up yet? How many times? How much could she move around? Had she gone outside for some fresh air yet? When did she think she might? Where was Elliot? Was he there? Was he always there with her?
Every single day. Morning and evening. It was becoming so exhausting that she skipped answering sometimes.
“I’m better.”
“You’re mumbling. You can’t be that much better. What in the world are you taking?”
“Nothin.’”
A long pause. “Bullshit. You’ve been on something for a week. It’s time to slow down on those. I don’t even recognize your voice. Do you even know you talk to me? And that time is passing by?”
No. Not really. She felt rather senseless, floating on a beautiful cloud, hovering above her body, that no longer hurt. She didn’t think. She didn’t feel. She just slept and sometimes gazed for hours out the window, unseeing, or even aware that she was looking out the window.
“Linds?” The screech brought her back to the phone. Jessie. Oh yeah.
“What?”
“You missed everything I just said, didn’t you?”
“No.” Did she?
“Oh yeah? Then what did I say?”
“You asked how I was.”
“No, I told you I was in the hospital. I delivered a perfect, beautiful, healthy baby girl. We had her last night. Will is here with me. We named her Christina.”
“After Mom?”
“Yes. After our mother. She wasn’t a monster. Not everyone is, you know.”
The Good Sister (Sister Series, #2) Page 19
