Vindication: Of Demons & Stones: Tri-Stone Trilogy, Book Three

by Anne L. Parks

  “Is all of this your blood?”

  I look down. Blood, fresh and dried, soaks the front of my sweater and jeans. Tears well up in my eyes. “No, not this,” I say, pointing to the splatters of Skinny Guy’s blood that dot my arms. A shiver passes through my body. “Where is Alex? I need to see my husband.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Mustache says. “I need you to lay down so I can check the injuries to your sides.”

  A cold wave of dread crashes over me. Tremors rumble through my body. “I have to see him. Please, I need him.” Warm paths of tears stream down my face.

  Mustache turns to one of the cops standing outside of the ambulance. “Can you find her husband?”

  The cop mumbles something I can’t hear, and walks away.

  “They’re going to find him. Can you relax for me? We need to get your heart rate to slow and bring your blood pressure back down.”

  Alex climbs into the ambulance, slides next to Mustache on the bench, and clasps both of his hands around mine. “Hey, baby. It’s okay, you’re safe.”

  Sobs wrack my chest. I want to believe the nightmare is over, but I’m not completely sure what is happening around me—or to me. My head still feels like my brains are in a mixer that never stops, the speeds just keep changing. “I was so scared.”

  Alex kisses the back of my hand. Warmth spreads over my skin and up my arm. “I know, but it’s over now.”

  “I want to go home.”

  Alex glances at Mustache who shakes his head. “We will, but we need to have a doctor check your injuries.”

  I hiccup. “Then we can go home?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  I try to focus on his face through the blur of my tears. “You found me.”

  He smiles. “Always.”

  Thirteen

  Dr. Winstead, a middle-aged ER doctor, reads the results of my CAT scan with a grimace on his face. He exhales while groaning, and looks at me over the top of his glasses.

  “Well, there’s no internal bleeding or damage to your kidneys, but you have bruising that will cause you pain for a few days. That’s the good news. On the flip side, you have a serious concussion. I’m going to admit you overnight for observation.”

  My heart rate takes off causing the monitor to beep. “No.” There is no way I will stay in the hospital.

  “Mrs. Stone, you have suffered a few serious blows to the head. Given your past injuries, it is imperative that you be monitored.”

  I look straight into Alex’s eyes, and tighten my grip on his hand. “I won’t stay. I can’t spend another night away from home.”

  Alex holds my gaze for a moment. Turning to the doctor, he says, “Is there a home health provider you can recommend? I’m taking my wife home.”

  Pushing the computer cart away, Dr. Winstead swivels around in his chair so he is facing us straight on. “Leaving the hospital—taking your wife home—could be very dangerous, Mr. Stone. Her injuries are very serious. If something were to happen, there is no way you could get her back here in time to prevent irreversible brain damage or death.”

  Alex glances at me, but I shake my head.

  “We understand the risks, and appreciate your position. Staying here will only increase her anxiety. It’s her wish to go home, and I support her. Please have whatever paperwork you need signed prepared so we can leave as soon as possible.”

  Dr. Winstead closes his mouth, a grim line across his face. He gets up and leaves the examination room without a word or a backward glance at us.

  A half an hour later, the nurse hands Alex copies of all the papers we’ve signed, along with the doctor’s instructions for home treatment. She pulls the curtain back, wheels the computer out, and leaves. Alex places his hand under my arm, and helps me into the wheelchair.

  Dr. Winstead approaches, and hands Alex a couple of business cards. “My cell number is on the back of my card. If you have any problems, call me immediately—at any hour. The other card is a nurse that I highly recommend. I’ve taken the liberty to call her. I spoke briefly to her about your wife’s injuries, and she is going to meet you at your house. You can work out the rest of the arrangements with her when she gets there.”

  Alex shakes hands with the man and thanks him. Jake is waiting outside the emergency room doors, and helps Alex slide me onto the backseat of the SUV. Driving through the gates of the estate, I take a deep cleansing breath. Jake pulls to a stop at the front. A cold breeze kisses my cheeks as I get out and walk to the front door, but nothing can dampen the warmth spreading inside me with every step I take closer to the house. Standing in the foyer, I glance around as Alex slides my jacket down my arms and tosses it on the bench. A tear slides down my cheek. I never thought I’d be here again.

  Alex’s arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me into his side. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He gazes at me, and swipes the tear with his thumb.

  The fireplace is ablaze in the bedroom. Under normal circumstances, the heat radiating from it would have been sweltering. Not now. My incarceration chilled me to the bone, mentally and physically, and I doubted I would ever be truly warm again.

  Alex sets me on the oversized chair in front of the fireplace, grabs the blanket draped over the back, and covers me. He’s been quiet since leaving the hospital. I watch him walk to the bedside table on my side of the bed, and arrange the medication Dr. Winstead prescribed.

  I’m so thankful to be alive—to be back home with him. The possibility that I’m just dreaming causes my heart to seize. Dragging my eyes away is impossible. I’m too afraid he will disappear, and I’ll be back at the house with the kidnappers.

  Alex sits on the edge of the chaise. “Time for bed.” His voice is soft, low, and steady.

  “Can we just sit here for a while in front of the fire?”

  Brushing my hair from my forehead, he caresses my face, and smiles. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want. I’ll let you get some rest.”

  Fear surges through me like a wick that’s been lit on a stick of dynamite. He stands, but I grab his hand. “No, please don’t go.”

  Deep lines crease his forehead. The corners of his eyes drop, along with his shoulders.

  “I’m sorry.” My voice cracks and tears well up and sit along my lower eyelids. “I need you with me.”

  A small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. He moves to the opposite side of the chaise, and slides under the blanket next to me. “Don’t ever apologize for asking me to stay. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.”

  “I’m still so scared this is all a dream.” I manage to suppress the sob in my throat, but the tears break free. “I don’t want to close my eyes, or go to sleep, in case I wake up and I’m not here—I’m back there.”

  Alex wraps his arm around my shoulder, and pulls me against his chest. His muscles tense, but he gently kisses the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, Kylie—“

  “Don’t.” I lift my face so I can gaze into his eyes. “No apologies. No regrets. And absolutely, no blaming yourself for what they did. I just want to be thankful. I’m so happy to be here with you…in your arms.”

  Alex dips his head, his lips pressing against mine. “I love you so much, baby.”

  He gathers me against his chest, and holds me for a few minutes, and I’m happy to let him. Calm settles over me, as it always does when I’m in his protective embrace. Here, I don’t have to think, or be strong. I can just be.

  He lifts my hand to his lips, and squeezes it. His finger runs over my ring finger. Even though I only had it for a short period of time, my finger feels naked without its weight.

  “They took it from me,” I say, a wave of guilt flushing through me like a cold wave.

  Alex lifts my fingers to his lips, letting them linger for a moment. “They can have it. I have you.”

  Perspective. The ring symbolized our love and commitment, but our love and commitment was not bound to the ring. The way we feel, the vows we made, are in our hearts and souls
. No one will ever be able to take them away from us.

  No one. Alex will always be here—always find me, just as he did today.

  I lift my head and stare at him. “How did you find me?”

  “I got a text message from a number I didn’t recognize—Jake thinks it was a burner phone. The text had a photo of you. Jake’s IT guy was able to determine the area the text was sent from. I guess it was a good thing there weren’t many houses in the area, even with the wide range it was easy to find you.”

  “Who texted you?” I ask through a yawn. The meds the doctor gave me are kicking in, and drowsiness swamps me.

  “I don’t know, baby,” Alex says. “But I’m going to find out—and I’m going to kill whoever is responsible.”

  Fourteen

  Sitting across from two detectives from the Colorado Bureau of Investigations, I sip my coffee, and nibble on the scone Ginny made. Alex wasn't happy that I didn't eat a full breakfast this morning, so I’m making an effort to get something into my stomach. I thought I would be famished after not eating for a couple of days, but having to talk to the agents about what happened to me has robbed me of my appetite.

  The two men could not be more opposite. Detective Donner is fresh-faced, eager, his pen poised above his notepad, ready to jot down everything I say. His partner, Detective Abbott, has deep creases in his forehead that look as though they are permanent. His gaze skims over my face before he narrows his eyes on mine. If he has any sympathy for the dark circles under my eyes, or the huge purple and black bruise taking up the left side of my face, and along my jaw, he's keeping it a closely guarded secret.

  "We'll try to keep our questions brief, Mrs. Stone," Abbott says, "But these are some very serious accusations. We have three dead bodies and you're the only one who knows what happened."

  Does he think I'm making up being kidnapped?

  I hold Abbott's gaze. He's not going to intimidate me, and he's not going to intimate that I'm a liar. "I'll give you as much information as I can."

  "Just start from the beginning," Detective Donner says, but even his school boy smile can't cut through the tension between his partner and me.

  I nod at him, and clear my throat. I wish Alex could be with me, I could use his strength right now. I'm putting up a good front, but Abbott is edging me toward a breaking point. "I was in town, getting ready to come back home. A man opened the passenger side door of my SUV and got in. He had a gun and told me to start driving."

  "What did the man look like?" Donner asks.

  "He had on a black ski mask, so I didn't see his face."

  Donner nods. "And then what?"

  I inhale and hold my breath for a second before releasing it. "He had me drive out of town, and turn down a dirt road and stop."

  "Just stop—in the middle of the road?" Abbott asks. I glance over at him, his eyes are still narrowed, but one is quirked up a bit.

  Is that skepticism or curiosity?

  "Well, I was on the right side of the road, so not directly in the middle, but I didn't pull off to the side or anything.

  "Was there anyone else there?"

  I turn to look at Donner, my head going back and forth between the two detectives as if I'm at Wimbledon. "Not at first, but a white utility van pulled in behind us within a minute or two. The driver and another man got out of it."

  "And I'm guessing you can't describe either one of them, either," Abbott says, the condescension dripping from his voice. For whatever reason—maybe the two agents are playing good cop, bad cop—Abbott has a hard spot for me.

  I shoot a look at Abbott and hold his gaze. There is no way this prick is going to brow beat me. I know what happened, and I know I'm not lying. He can take his attitude and shove it. "No, they both had ski masks on, as well. The man in the car with me grabbed my cell phone from the center console, and told me to get out. He used my phone to call Alex and told him they had me and that they would be calling back with their ransom demand."

  The scene plays out in my head as if I'm watching a movie. "When they ended the call, I knew I had to try to get away. I had left the door to the SUV open, and I made a run for it, but didn't make it."

  Donner leans forward. "They were able to constrain you? How?"

  "I'm pretty sure they tasered me. All my muscles seized up, and I was temporarily paralyzed. The other two men threw me into the back of the van."

  "Jesus," Donner mutters, and shakes his head. He scribbles on his note pad.

  I continue without waiting for him to look up. I need to get through his. A dull rap drums at the base of my skull. Soon it will me a full-blown migraine and my energy will be zapped. "One of them blindfolded me, and we drove to the house where you found me."

  "You were there the whole time?" Abbott asks. His gaze is still intense, but has softened a bit around the edges. Less a sharp blade, and more a dull steak knife. Still a sharp edge ready to cut through me, though.

  "Yes. I'm still not really sure how long I was there for—I think three nights, but I was in and out of consciousness a lot of the time."

  "And why was that?" Donner asks.

  "Apparently, they did not like my attitude or my attempts to escape. One of the men—he looked more like a heavy weight fighter in a ninja outfit—had a short fuse and used me as a punching bag a few times." Without realizing, I touch the side of my face that had the most bruising. Muscle Man had been right-handed, apparently, since he seemed to hit me on the left side of my head and body when he beat me.

  Donner writes furiously in his notepad, and I take the time to steady my nerves. I'd really like to get through this without crying, since once those floodgates open, it is really hard to dam them up again. I chance a glance at Abbott. He inhales deeply, his eyebrows rising, and gives a little shake of his head.

  Is that a hint that he's impressed with me? Perhaps, he is starting to see me as a victim instead of part of some murder conspiracy with Alex?

  Abbott places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. "Did they say anything to you—or to each other that you may have overhead—that would give some indication as to why they kidnapped you?"

  I look between the two men, wondering if this is a trick question, or if they are truly this clueless. "I assumed it was for the ransom." I continue to stare at them. Is asking a billionaire husband for a pay off not enough of a reason to kidnap his wife?

  Neither man answered my unstated questions, and didn't give me any indication as to why they asked such an asinine question. They ask me a few more questions, which I answer, and then get up to leave.

  "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Stone," Detective Donner says, and holds out his hand for me to shake.

  Abbott clears his throat. "We'll be in contact if we have any further questions for you." He hands me his business card. "If you think of anything else, call."

  Cranky old fart.

  They head out of the living room. Jake opens the front door for them. Alex slides next to me on the couch, his arm instantly around my shoulder. "How are you feeling, baby?"

  "My head hurts, and I'm a little tired, but okay for the most part."

  Jake walks in and takes the seat vacated by Donner.

  "Why are they asking me if I can give them insight as to why I was taken? I told them about the phone call to you and discussed calling you back regarding a ransom." I glance at Jake, and then up at Alex.

  "They never contacted me after that phone call," Alex says.

  My brain kicks into a higher gear. "Why would they kidnap me, take my ring, but never ask for a ransom? I find it impossible that they would be satisfied with just having my ring. The risks of pawning it, and getting anywhere close to it's value are too high."

  Jake scrubs at the growth along his jaw. "Add in this mysterious 'boss'—and an assassin—and not much adds up."

  Alex kisses the side of my head. "This mystery will not be solved today, and you need to rest and recover."

  "Alex, they think you and Jake killed the kidnappers. If
we don't figure out who the boss is, you could both be charged with multiple counts of murder."

  "Nothing will be gained by pushing yourself right now. The doctor said your concussion is serious—so that is the priority. The agents are investigating, and Jake has his team on it. No one is going to be charged with murder." He lifts my chin in the only spot that doesn't seem to be bruised. "I'm going to make you some tea, and something to eat so you can take your pain medication. I'll be back to help you upstairs. The nurse Dr. Winstead recommended will be stopping by around noon. I don't want to have to report that you've been obstinate." He smiles, kisses me, and then walks out.

  * * *

  By late afternoon, I am about to go stir crazy. Alex wants me to not only stay in our room, but in bed. Being restricted to the bed is not on the list of things making me happy lately. I just spent too many days and nights restricted to a mattress, and while our bed is leaps and bounds above where I was sleeping, it's still not the only place I want to be.

  I slip my feet into my slippers and grab the sweater draped over the chair and escape the bedroom in search of…well, someplace not the bedroom. Carefully descending the stairs, I walk into the kitchen. Ginny slips her hands into silicone oven mitts, and smiles when she sees me.

  "How are you feeling?" she asks, as she pulls a tray of cookies out and sets it on the granite counter. The aroma of sugar and chocolate is a wake up call to my stomach, which grumbles as I inhale.

  "Much better," I say. On a glass plate in front of me are frosted gingerbread cookies. I point to them. "Can I have one of these?"

  "Of course, help yourself." After putting the empty cookie sheet into the sink, she picks up one of the cookies, too. "I thought I would be all baked out after Christmas, but it hasn't seemed to pass, so I keep on baking."

  I take a bit of the cookie, and nearly moan from the deliciousness of it. Ginger and cinnamon tantalize my tongue. The outside of the cookie is crunchy, but the inside is moist and melts on my tongue. "Oh, these are so good."