Aftermath (41 page)

“Okay.” His eyes bounced between his parents.

“How does questioning my son about an event, seven months ago, help find a girl who went missing yesterday?”

“Sam.” Jessie shot him daggers. “They’re cops.”

“That’s worked real well for a lot of people the last couple of years.” A menacing gaze tracked behind Robinson, to where his wife stood. “Right, Amanda?”

Robinson resisted the urge to deck him. Didn’t dare look back at Amanda, sure whatever he saw would spur him to give into the voice in the back of his head. The one begging him to let loose.

All he needed was a hastily spoken sentence to sink him deeper into frigid waters he might never recover from.

“Agent Robinson is with the FBI, so you’re much safer.” Amanda’s voice came to him clear and resounding. “They microchip their men. One misstep and the powers that be show up and cart you off. Me?”

She stepped closer, into Robinson’s peripheral vision.

“I’m a complete wild card.”

“That’s been pretty obvious since you were a teenager.”

Amanda didn’t flinch. One eyebrow lifted higher than the other on her forehead. “Feel better?” Her gaze shifted to the teenager. “A classmate says they saw you come off the Jackman Trail, at the nature center, shortly after Paige Jurik. Did you see her?”

“No.” The boy’s eyes bounced between his parents, again, worry evident.

Sam held a hand up toward his son. “Whoa. Ask me all the questions you want, but my son isn’t talking to you.”

“We’ll come back with a subpoena.”

“Go ahead.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Journal Entry #227

Age: 17

WHAT REMAINS OF my broken heart is shattered in tiny pieces. A beating mess of glass fragments.

According to Mother, I should pretend as if it never happened. As if my mind doesn’t wander toward beautiful amber eyes, a tuft of fuzzy brown hair, a button nose and rose petal lips. A body I nurtured for nine months and loved way before first sight.

I dreamt of her future. Diapers and bottles and blankets. Her first tooth. Teaching her to ride a bike. Days at the park. A small place we’d call our own. With a puppy. I’d read her bedtime stories and make sure she always knew she was loved and wanted.

All of that is gone, now.

And I will never forgive my Mother. This is one fault she can’t undo with time. Or justify with explanations. Or fix with surgery.

___

LILLY HAD NEVER worked critical care, outside of the hospital. Never not had on-call backup at the ready for codes.

What she had, inside the Bening house, was the bare minimum a field nurse might have in Iraq, while awaiting a larger set up. Surgical supplies, a blood pressure and O2 monitor and enough saline to last a week.

And two FBI agents manning the three story house. Agents Max and Saragosa, had done a walk through, noted the boarded up third story. Assigned Lilly and Ariana a room as if they were in military barracks.

“I’ll be back in the morning.” Dr. Raphael Moore picked up his instruments and stuffed them in his messenger bag. They’d gone over Jonas’ medication schedule and all the signs, beyond the obvious ones, she should watch for.

It hadn’t settled her stomach one iota. It didn’t matter that the bugs crawling around in her body were an extreme case of nerves caused by being Jonas’ sole responder when Dr. Moore wasn’t around—which wouldn’t be all that often.

Or from the minute warning she’d had in this venture, tonight.

And no one could give them a straight answer on it. One minute Baker Jackson had been listening to Ariana describe the last few weeks in school, the next on his phone and out the door, replacements in position. And then they’d been carted here like cattle.

A shuffle came from above the media room turned hospital. Followed by a stomp. All three sets of eyes, in the room, glanced upward, albeit Jonas’ a bit heavy-lidded. They’d been given the room directly above his digs, even though Lilly would be spending more time on the oversized couch than in a real bed.

Dr. Moore smiled. Continued packing his things and zipped the bag. “I don’t miss raising teenagers.”

If it were only something simple. Not sexual accusations and harassment in the form of letters and notes her daughter had destroyed. She thought her friend was behind them, in some cruel popularity game that was harmless.
Almost harmless
had been her exact words. Ariana might be naive, but she wasn’t dumb.

And Lilly had seen a fair amount of red over the fact that anybody—adult or child—was spreading rumors about her baby fooling around with anyone of the opposite sex.

Except all Ariana had
seen
was the palpable anger on her face. And flown into a rage about nobody ever listening to her. And treating her like a kid.

Lilly used to be better at defusing things like that. Had there been more time, she might have been able to comfort her daughter. Maybe.

Another knock sounded from above. What was she doing? Bowling with Jordan’s things up there? “It’s loads of fun.” Those bugs kept on acting up and the sullen teenager upstairs didn’t help.

“Call me if you need anything.” Dr. Moore patted Jonas on the arm and walked from the room. Leaving them alone.

Lilly stepped closer. The bruising on his face had turned a deep purple and the swelling lingered only around the edges of his left eye. They’d removed the feeding tube two days ago when he could keep down puréed substances.

Taken him off the morphine pump and started oral medications, including OxyContin for pain. A CT scan had showed no signs of swelling and the cut, an inch above his left temple, had a small bandage over it, instead of the rolls of gauze he’d sported like a sweatband in the hospital.

“You’re staring, Lilly.” The words came out on the harsh edges of agony. He didn’t open his eyes.

She was. Not in a horrified way, but one of a nurse assessing her patient. Seeing his wounds in clinical terms. And trying to talk herself into a situation she’d already been called for. She cleared her throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Annoyed.”

She blew out a breath. Given the circumstances, she’d be feeling that way, too. Had been there and didn’t envy him the days ahead.

“Can’t keep my thoughts straight. Don’t even know if my words are coming out right. Or if I’m hallucinating right now.”

Lilly placed a hand near his collarbone. Above the painful graffiti on his chest and away from his healing jawbone. Her thumb met a portion of warm, exposed skin. “I’m real. And I can understand you just fine. Minus the lisp from the jaw.”

“Adds a nice charm, right?” His palm met the back of her hand, his fingers squeezing hers.

A hazy buzz flooded her. It scattered the jitter bugs. “Right.” Even banged up, he didn’t need any help there. Not with the dark hair and eyes. The dimpled smile with a hint of attitude, he normally sported.

His eyes opened and fixed on her. “Five, five, seven, nine.”

“What?”

“They keep popping up in my head. Makes me feel like I’m going crazy. Ever happen to you?”

All the time.

“Already been there, buddy.” Baker Jackson stepped into the room, apple in hand. “And what’s this about you harassing my sister with
that
diary? Right now, I’d like nothing better than to burn it and hope the trouble it comes with disappears as easily.”

As if he fought off sleep, Jonas gave a quick inhale. “You can learn something from anyone. Take solace in the fact that Lilly’s alive because of her quick work.”

But her child and husband were not. And she had the scars to prove both.

“One good deed does not erase a lifetime of bad ones.”

Jonas released her hand. “The reverse is true, too.”

When her brother looked ready to blast the man lying in the bed, he took a loud bite of his apple instead. “Any recollection on why you had Paige Jurik’s
diary?”

“Don’t you think I’d tell you if I did?” Jonas used his good arm to pull himself into a sitting position. Sweat dotted his upper lip. He closed his eyes a second. Rubbed his jaw. “Do you think I want to sit here, half delirious, questioning every tiny blip of memory that doesn’t make sense?”

The other man crunched more of his apple, in the slow way he’d adopted long ago. His eyes never left Jonas. “If you weren’t so unconventional and shared your findings and leads—trusted someone once in a while—my sister’s husband might still be alive.”

“Unlikely.” Jonas’ gaze locked on her brother.

A boulder landed on her diaphragm, squeezing the air from her lungs and allowing little room for its reentry.

He shook his head. “You’re cold.”

She swallowed. Wanted to tell both of them to stop, but the bugs were back. And they climbed her esophagus like a horde of Black Widow spiders, in a horror movie.

Jonas’ good hand met his jaw as if the act of holding it would stop the ache. “If you could look past the revulsion of a person’s actions and see the details for what they are, you’d get it. You’d see that she followed Lilly to the care center thirteen days before Jeff’s death.”

Thirteen days. Jeff had given up hope in less than two weeks. He’d forgotten the vows they’d made. The daughter he’d leave behind. How love was supposed to carry them through. She would have sat at his bedside every day for the rest of her life.

But she’d done no better.

“Ever wonder why Beth ended up there in the first place? Why she followed Lilly? Didn’t start administering Propofol until
after
Jeff’s funeral.”

Lilly’s stomach surged upward. She’d always assumed the hatred had been random to some degree. The product of being Baker Jackson’s sister.

Why? Why had Beth waited?

Her brother shook his head. “Whose side are you on?”

Jonas’ pulse hammered at his neck. “It’s never been about a side. Or Beth.” His face took on a pale hue. “When it comes to the past and Lilly, it’s been about...her daughter.”

Something dark swirled with the bugs.

Baker Jackson opened his mouth.

“Stop.” She raised a hand, palm toward him. To Jonas she said, “Whose daughter?”

As if he’d forgotten she was in the room, he turned, stricken gaze locking on her. “Beth’s.” Jonas’ clammy hand found hers before she had a chance to move out of reach. He took a labored breath. Pressed his fingers into hers.

Everything inside her urged her to pull her hand from his. Grab her daughter and assume fake identities for the rest of their lives.

It would do little more than add a wrong to a very long list.

“Lie back.” One gentle push on his shoulder had him complying. She flicked a gaze at her brother and pulled out her stethoscope. Attached the BP cuff and O2 monitor. Tried to breathe as normal as possible. Kept her mind on anything but the last three years of her life, half of which she couldn’t even remember.

“She has a biological daughter.” Amanda walked into the room. Sent a glare in the direction of both men. Then settled, with crossed arms, on the opposite side of the bed from Lilly, right next to her brother. “Her name is Paige. The same Paige your brother has been harassing Jonas about. She was seventeen when she gave birth and gave her child up for adoption.”

As if the recounting was painful, Amanda unfolded her arms and gripped the railing with both hands. “The labor was long and her mom was in and out, between surgeries, within the hospital. Ultimately, the mom wanted the shame of the event over so her daughter could move on.

“After sixteen hours, Beth was pretty sure she was going to die and didn’t want to go on. The one person she wanted nearby wasn’t there for her, but her nurse didn’t leave her side.”

An image flooded Lilly’s mind. A young girl. Scared. Alone the majority of the time. It had been a slow night. She’d been one of three patients and they’d had more than enough nurses for Lilly to be able to lend the support the teenager had so badly needed. She didn’t remember the exact words she’d used to coax the young woman, Beth—she could see her clearly, now—into a few final pushes for the doctor, who’d come in to assist with the delivery.

As soon as they’d placed the infant on her chest, the teen’s face equaled that of a sunrise after the darkest night. There’d been ten minutes of peace before the girl’s mother had walked in. All but ripped them apart.

The screams from both mother and daughter still surfaced, faceless, from time to time. The pleading tone Beth had used to coax her mother into giving the child back.

A pinch started behind Lilly’s eyes. She swallowed it back. No. That wasn’t right.

Jonas’ dark gaze met hers as if he knew her thoughts. The machine, in front of her, signaled a reading. Blood pressure was a little high. O2 at ninety-nine percent. She started removing the cuff and monitor.

His released her fingers. “What she did to you wasn’t right, Lilly. It was beyond wrong—a violation that leaves a person wondering if they will ever be able to trust again. And if that particular act was out of hatred, it was not against you, personally.”