* * * *
“Mrs. Ramirez?”
Elenore stared blankly at the doctor standing in the doorway of the hospital waiting room. He’d addressed her as Mrs. Ramirez.
It hit her like a ton of bricks. She was Evan’s wife.
She pushed unsteadily to her feet, fear of what she would hear taking hold of her tongue. She could only nod.
The doctor sent her a gentle smile. “Your husband is out of surgery. He sustained some internal damage from the bullet fragments. We were able to repair most of it, but he’s not out of danger yet. He’s in the ICU.”
Elenore found her voice. “W-will he live?”
The doctor hesitated. “That I can’t answer. But we’ll do everything we can to see that he does.”
“He’s a fighter,” Elenore whispered through her tears—tears she hadn’t realized were there.
The doctor held her gaze. “That’s good, Mrs. Ramirez. You’ll be able to see him once he’s stabilized. A nurse will come for you.”
“Thank you,” was all she could manage. Evan had survived the surgery. She nearly sagged to the floor in relief.
With a quick nod, the doctor backed out of the room and disappeared down the hall.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elenore stood next to Evan’s bed in the intensive care unit, staring down into his ghostly white face.
The scene in the theater parking lot played through her mind like a like a horror movie reel. The panic, the fear, and the explosive sound of that gun.
Evan had saved her life. He’d charged the guy without a second thought to his own safety.
Elenore had never known anyone as brave as Evan. Or as giving.
She thought about the home he’d provided for her, the money, food and…Sarah.
Sarah! Elenore glanced at the clock on the wall to find that it was after two in the morning. Sarah had to be devastated they hadn’t come back for her.
Elenore stepped out into the hall, fished out her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans, and pressed the number for Ida Mae.
The older woman picked up on the fourth ring, her sleepy voice barely audible. “Hello?”
“Ida Mae? It’s Elenore.”
Elenore spent the next several minutes filling Ida Mae in on everything that had happened that night, ending with, “Will Sarah be all right there for a couple of days?”
“Don’t you worry about Sarah,” Ida Mae responded through obvious tears. “What else can I do to help? I’ve known Evan since he was a wee boy.”
“Sarah is the most important thing at the moment. I’ll keep you updated on Evan any chance I get.”
A brief pause ensued, and then Ida Mae whispered through the line, “I’ll be praying for him—praying for you both.”
Elenore wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so she didn’t. She awkwardly disconnected the call and re-entered the ICU.
A nurse stood next to Evan’s bed, her hands busy with the hoses and equipment hooked to him. She looked up as Elenore moved in closer. “Are you his wife?”
“Yes. How is he?”
“He’s doing as best as can be expected, considering what he’s been through. How are you holding up?”
The nurse’s question caught Elenore off guard. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t look okay to me. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. Have you eaten or rested any?”
“W-we had dinner earlier tonight. Before the…” She couldn’t finish around the lump forming in her throat.
“I see,” the nurse gently murmured. “Why don’t you grab a bite to eat and get some rest. I’ll call you if there are any changes.”
Elenore opened her mouth to argue, but the nurse held up a hand. “I know you’re worried for him, Mrs. Ramirez. But making yourself sick in the process won’t help him.”
“I can’t leave him,” Elenore whispered, attempting to get her scattered emotions under control.
The nurse stepped up next to her and touched her on the arm. “You’re not leaving him. You’re simply getting some food so that you can stay strong for him. I’ll have you a cot made up so you can stay the night with him.”
Elenore swallowed. She thought about the times that Evan had slept in a chair next to her own hospital bed. “I can stay in here with him all night?”
“It’s not something we are always able to do, but we try to accommodate as much as we can.”
“Thank you,” Elenore whispered. And she meant it.
Leaving the hospital was far from easy for Elenore. The farther away from Evan’s room she got, the higher her anxiety spiked. What if he awoke to find her not there? Or worse, what if he died? She couldn’t entertain the thought. She wouldn’t.
She hurried across the expansive parking lot to an all-night diner across the street. Thankfully, the place was nearly empty.
Taking a seat in a booth near the back, Elenore rubbed at her stinging eyes.
“What can I get you to drink?” A short, plump waitress asked, her red hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. She placed a menu onto the table and pulled her pen and pad free of her apron.
“Coffee, please.” Elenore couldn’t get enough of coffee. Evan had introduced her to it, and she’d fallen in love with it instantly.
“You bet,” the waitress chirped, bounding off with more energy than Elenore had at the moment.
Returning a minute later, the waitress set a cup of coffee down on the table and waited a bit impatiently for Elenore to place her order.
But the longer Elenore studied that menu, the less she felt up to eating. She finally waved the waitress off without ordering.
Elenore turned to stare out the window, the lights from the massive hospital across the street holding her spellbound. Evan was in that place, fighting for his life, while the piece of garbage who’d shot him walked around free.
Something happened to Elenore the longer she stared at the lights of that hospital. She recognized the feeling, and for some reason, she felt no fear. She accepted it for what it was, her strength, her savior. Elle stirred to life…
Chapter Thirty
Elenore wasn’t sure how long she sat there in that diner, her mind conjuring up every single detail she could remember about that night.
She had looked into the assailant’s eyes. And though her tears had somewhat distorted her vision, she would never forget his eyes.
Black as midnight and framed in thick, dark lashes, those eyes would haunt her for the rest of her days.
She recalled a jagged scar running along the top of his left cheekbone. Elenore could see it as plain as her own reflection in the glass of that diner.
“More coffee?”
Elenore shook her head, a plan already forming in her mind. She pulled some money from the pocket of her jeans, laid it on the table, and then left the diner.
Lots of preparations needed to be made, and Elenore was bound and determined to see them through.
She would find the man who’d shot Evan, if it was the last thing she ever did.
Elenore walked across the street with a purpose. No matter how weak she thought herself to be, she would do this for Evan.
* * * *
Three Days Later
Elenore returned to the house around six o’clock in the morning, three days after the shooting. She needed to shower, grab some clothes, and check on Sarah.
She’d missed that little girl more than she ever thought possible.
Evan had finally woken the night before and would be moved from the ICU later that day to a private room on the second floor.
Elenore had spent the better part of the first two days answering questions for a detective working Evan’s case.
Detective Rogers had asked her to come in as soon as possible to look through mugshots for possible suspects. Today would be that day.
After showering and changing into some clean clothes, Elenore went next door to visit with Sarah. She found her sitting at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal
.
The little girl’s eyes lit up when Elenore entered the room. “Elle!”
Elenore thought about how endearing Elle sounded, coming from Sarah. A name that had sent her skin crawling when Elijah had used it.
Sarah jumped down from her chair and rushed to Elenore’s side. “You’re back!”
Elenore bent and scooped her up into her arms, loving the feel of the child’s head lying against her shoulder. “I can’t stay this time, Sarah. But I promise I’ll be home tonight. You can even sleep in my room if you want.”
Sarah’s small arms went around Elenore’s neck. “When’s Daddy coming home?”
Elenore glanced at Ida Mae over the top of Sarah’s head. “I’m not sure yet, but I don’t think it will be too much longer.”
Kissing the side of Sarah’s face, Elenore set her on her feet. “Finish your breakfast and I’ll see you tonight.”
Sarah hurried back to her food, her innocent eyes already dismissing Elenore to study the cereal box in front of her.
Ida Mae shuffled to the kitchen door and opened it for Elenore. Keeping her voice low, she asked, “Any news on the shooter?”
Elenore shook her head. “Nothing yet. I’m going to the police station this morning to look through some mugshots. Hopefully, he’ll be in one of the pictures.”
Ida Mae surprised Elenore by wrapping her in a hug. “Don’t worry about Sarah. She’ll be fine here with me. You just take care of you and Evan. I’m here if you need anything. Anything at all.”
Elenore didn’t miss the narrowing of Ida Mae’s eyes or the way she’d put emphasis on the word anything. She suddenly wondered if the older woman suspected what she had planned.
With a nod, Elenore turned and hurried to Evan’s car. She had mugshots to go through, and frankly, she was anxious to get to it.
Elenore arrived at the police station twenty minutes later. She parked the car in the parking garage and took the stairs to the second floor.
Detective Rogers looked up from his desk as she approached.
He half stood, his hand covering his tie to keep it in place and waved toward the chair opposite his. “Have a seat, Mrs. Ramirez. I’m glad you could make it.”
Elenore noticed he had kind eyes, similar to Evan’s.
Running a hand through his graying hair, the detective situated himself in his chair and waited for Elenore to do the same.
He then tapped a few keys on the laptop in front of him. “I input the information you gave me on the perp’s description and came up with a long list of suspects.”
Spinning the laptop in her direction, he added, “Look through the images carefully. If you don’t see anyone that resembles the man who shot your husband, hit the Tab key, and it will take you to the next page. I have some things to take care of, but I’ll only be a few feet away.”
Elenore’s awkwardness prevented her from holding the detective’s gaze. She quickly glanced at him and then returned her attention to the mugshots, grateful that Evan had taught her how to use a computer. “Thank you.”
Once the detective left the room, Elenore began the painstaking process of searching for a needle in a haystack.
She must have sat there over an hour, tabbing from page to page without any luck. Her stomach growled from hunger, and she needed to use the restroom something fierce.
On the verge of asking someone to point her in the direction of the ladies’ room, Elenore tabbed one more time.
Her heart stuttered.
There, on the second row of mugshots before her was the face of a man she would never forget. The man who’d shot Evan.
She couldn’t look away from his eyes—eyes that had haunted her every waking moment since the night in that theater parking lot.
Her stomach tightened, and her heart raced with adrenaline. She tore her gaze away from his despicable eyes long enough to take in his name. Waylon Redding.
“See anyone you recognize?” Detective Rogers questioned, startling her.
It took everything Elenore had to remain calm and aloof. She shook her head and tabbed over to the next page.
There was no way she would admit to finding Evan’s shooter so they could bring him in for questioning. Best case scenario, he’d get a few years behind bars. But then he’d be out on parole, free to hurt someone else. No, Waylon Redding would never see the inside of a jail cell. Not if Elle could help it.
Elenore knew without a doubt that Elle would be the one to kill Redding. She only needed to lead her to him.
Chapter Thirty-One
Evan gritted his teeth against the pain and attempted to move his feet, yet no matter how hard he tried, they remained limp.
The doctors had informed him of the possibility he might never walk again. Only, Evan wasn’t willing to accept that. He wouldn’t accept it.
He blew out a frustrated breath and stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room. He’d been shot. And not just once, but three times, rendering him in a state of constant pain and partial paralysis.
He’d lain there for hours on end, straining to recall what had happened in that theater parking lot. Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t remember a thing beyond Elenore’s reaction to seeing a movie for the first time.
Elenore… Evan inwardly sighed. He couldn’t help but worry about her, any more than he could stop worrying for his daughter, Sarah.
They both needed him, but there he lay, broken and unable to go to the bathroom on his own.
Anger and resentment warred inside him. Was this karma exacting revenge for the murders he’d covered up in Wexler?
“Good morning, Mr. Ramirez,” a nurse greeted, stepping inside the room. “How are you feeling today?”
Evan wanted to lash out, to ask her how she would feel in his situation. But he didn’t. Instead, he admitted, “I still can’t feel my legs.”
A flash of pity entered her eyes but left as quickly as it appeared. “Give it some time. You have a lot of swelling around your spine, as well as possible damage to some of the nerve endings surrounding that area. Until the swelling is completely gone, we won’t know anything definitive.”
“Plus,” she went on to add when he would have questioned her further, “the body has a remarkable ability to heal itself. Try to be patient a little longer. It’s only been three days.”
The nurse’s words gave Evan a small spark of hope. Not much, mind you, but…some. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
Once she finished checking his vitals and emptied his catheter bag, she left the room.
Elenore appeared a few minutes later, looking pale and withdrawn.
“Hey, you,” Evan softly greeted, hating his weakened state. He wanted nothing more than to sit up and give her a hug, even though he knew she wouldn’t welcome it.
And then, she did the unexpected. She marched across the room and touched his hand. “You’re looking much better.”
He felt better, now that she was there.
She quickly released him and awkwardly backed away. “I saw Sarah this morning.”
The mention of his daughter’s name lifted Evan’s spirits even more. “How is she?”
“She’s okay. Ida Mae is taking good care of her.”
“Just as she did with me when I was a kid,” Evan confessed, grateful for Ida Mae’s help.
He pressed the button to raise the head of his bed. “Any news on the man who shot me?”
Something flickered in Elenore’s eyes. But then she shook her head. “Nothing yet. I went down to the station to look through some mugshots, but none of them looked familiar.”
Disappointed, Evan blew out a shaky breath. “They’ll catch him. Atlanta PD has some of the finest detectives in the state.”
A tense silence fell between them.
“Are you eating?” Evan had noticed she looked a little gaunt as soon as she’d entered the room.
“You shouldn’t be worrying about me,” she quietly responded. “I’m not the one who was injured.”
Her expression softened. “You…you consider me a friend?”
He realized he did. “Yes. And I hope you feel the same.”
She moved to gaze out the window, remaining silent for so long Evan wasn’t sure she would answer.
“There was someone, many years ago when I was still in school,” she began, lifting a hand to lay against the glass pane. “Lucy Jackson. She was one of the only kids in school that didn’t taunt me or whisper behind my back. But I pushed her away.”
Evan couldn’t believe that Elenore was opening up to him in such a way. “Why did you push her away?”
The slightest lift of Elenore’s shoulder told him she’d shrugged. “I was too afraid she would see what I was…how dirty I really was.”
“Elenore…”
“I also thought that I would taint her somehow, and I couldn’t let that happen. She was the purest person I had ever known.”
She turned then to face him. “Until you.”
Evan’s breath froze in his lungs, but he remained quiet, afraid to break the spell Elenore seemed to be under.
“I’ve never known anyone like you, Detective. You’ve given me everything and asked for nothing in return. And I swear to you now, that I will repay your kindness in full. It might not be today or even tomorrow, but—”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Evan interrupted, unable to bear her confession a second longer. “I just want you to be happy and healthy. That’s all I truly want.”
She took a step closer, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I can never be what you want, what you need. You deserve a wife who can give you all the things that I can’t. I’m broken, Evan. And I always will be.”
Evan looked away to stare down at his legs. “Looks like we’re both broken.”
“But you’ll get stronger,” she insisted, her voice full of conviction.
Evan raised his gaze. “As will you.”
Elle Returns: The Sequel: A Psychological Thriller Page 11
