Aftermath (9 page)

Robinson dropped his hand, the towel clenched in his grasp. He’d been so focused on Ariana, he hadn’t paid much attention to the identity of the man paramedics had worked to revive. “Jonas is our vic?”

No. This wasn’t right.

She flicked a glance at Ariana and Lilly. Placed a hand on his upper arm and shifted them closer to the door. “They carved permanent slang into his flesh,” she whispered. “Before they beat him. There are bruises on his arms, shoulders and thighs from where he was held in place.

“The doctors aren’t sure if he fell and hit his head or took a blunt object to the skull, but there’s some swelling. According to what Ariana said, he was lucid enough to tell her to run. And he managed to stand up and fight long enough for her to actually do so.”

Something heavy swirled in his stomach. These men, who’d subdued an SBI agent, had been after his niece. A sweet girl who loved drawing and playing guitar. Would rescue a fly from certain death. “Any prints in the bruising?”

“I don’t know. Let’s hope so. According to his list of belongings, it doesn’t seem like they took anything of value. The first responders on scene found his BMW nearby, the keys in the open and available. Along with his wallet.”

Which means they were after something else. Or they’d been interrupted and spooked by Ariana. And the ensuing emergency personnel sirens.

“They said they planned to kill him.” Ariana’s voice came out clear and strong, as if she hadn’t been through a horrific ordeal. She stood, Lilly following behind. “And all his knowledge would die with him. What knowledge?”

An image of the three missing girls popped into his mind. All young and smiling into the camera as if they held the world by the horns. Had Jonas known something he hadn’t shared with Robinson? Or had he simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed something he couldn’t stop?

Ariana adjusted the strap on her sling. Pain slid across her bandaged face. Her eyes glided up from the floor. “I want to see him, Uncle Robbie.”

No.

As if she’d heard his inner scream, Lilly’s head snapped upward. The edge of fear appeared on his sister’s face.

It settled in his gut.

He couldn’t let either woman see the massacre Amanda had described. “Honey, I don’t know if that’s a good idea—”

“I’ve seen worse. I saw it today. I thought he was dead. And then he stood up and tried to defend us both.” Tears gathered at the edges of her eyes. Her voice rose. “I deserve to see how he’s doing. To get the opportunity to thank him.”

He shook his head. Ariana expected to walk in there and give the guy a hug. “He’s not conscious right now.”

She pressed her lips together, the exact replica of her mother. Stubborn when needed, but full of a good amount of passion. “You always said mom could hear me. If that’s true,
he’ll
be able to hear me, too.”

Lilly turned a shade paler. Didn’t say a word. Meanwhile, the fire in Ariana’s eyes begged him not to make himself into a liar. Begged him to be someone she could count on.

“Okay.” He pulled her into a hug, careful to avoid her shoulder. Kissed the top of her head. Sent a thankful prayer heavenward. Didn’t want to let go. He didn’t know what he’d do without this kid. “We’ll all go together, but you don’t have to do this. You can wait until you feel better. Have had some rest.”

She stepped out of his hold. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

He met Amanda’s gaze over the top of Ariana’s head. To the innocent bystander, she seemed calm. In control.

A hint of worry, she thought no one would notice, swirled in the depths of her stance. Crossed arms. Ramrod straight posture. The way she nibbled the corner of her lip.

It mirrored the dark weight taking up permanent residence in his gut. As if this day were the beginning of one long list of horrendous mistakes.

___

SOMEONE NEEDS YOU.

Lilly Gabriel hadn’t stepped to the plate since waking up from a coma that had destroyed her life. Taken her unborn child. Turned her strong husband into a drunk who ended his own life.

Because that’s what he’d done. She’d read the accident reports. Knew his side stunt-driving hobby meant he could handle any vehicle, in the worst conditions.

That he’d been unable to control a car, and his most precious cargo, would have ripped him apart. It had done that and more to her, even though none of it had been his fault.

The accident leading to his death, however…

She shook her head. Choked down the spider-webbing pit of rage covering her soul. It didn’t go far, before resuming a slow, upward crawl toward what remained of her heart.

Rehab had dulled the pain for the first six months. Once she’d relearned to walk, gotten most of her words unscrambled, looked at her daughter—the way she’d become a beautiful woman overnight—the harsh reality set in.

The past, the child and Jeff were all gone. She couldn’t ask him what he’d been thinking. Why he hadn’t thought of their daughter’s needs above his own. Or how he’d thought death was better than waiting at her bedside.

Where was the man who completed their family? The glue often holding them together?

Lilly shook her head.

Ariana didn’t
need
either of them. Not with her brother stepping in as pseudo-dad. And Amanda.

Lilly didn’t even have an appropriate label for her.

She sighed. Followed her brother and daughter from Ariana’s hospital room. She admired her daughter’s guts. The way she stood up for things she believed in. Her kindness toward others and easy acceptance. The talent she had with a guitar and sketch pad. The patience she’d shown Lilly on numerous occasions.

Even when she didn’t deserve it. Especially then.

Lilly gripped her elbow, her free hand clenching into a tight fist for a moment. The guitar, once an extension of her soul, seemed foreign. Whenever she picked it up, the notes fluttered through her mind in a jumbled heap. Much like unpracticed words flew from her mouth.

Usually at Amanda’s expense.

The woman walked a step behind her. Quiet. Out of sight. Stayed that way through an elevator ride and the walk through ICU. As if she knew the merest glimpse would set Lilly off.

And it might. The still steady rise of white-hot anger bubbled beneath her skin.

She’d been a normal human being before the accident. Full of life and happiness. Given one-hundred and ten percent to everything she did. And then she’d woken up and she wasn’t…anything.

Not a caregiver, a nurse, a woman. Just a zombie coasting through. She ground her teeth together.

If it weren’t for Amanda, she’d have a semi-normal life.

When she thought of her losses—Jeff’s handsome smile and quick wit and a baby she would never hold—the despair and anguish crushed her. Left her in a dark place, in which, she couldn’t breathe. Think. Move. And yet, it was the only time her brain didn’t buzz with what-ifs. Where half-cocked accusations sounded legit.

No apology would ever erase the damage. She wasn’t crazy enough to miss how her actions played a role in the things-never-to-be-forgiven category with her brother.

When she might have embraced enough guilt to do something—anything—different, the truth always brought her back to the reason she was here in the first place.

Living with her brother at the age of forty-two. Having no say in Ariana’s life. Or her own. And no idea what normal looked like anymore.

If someone had told her years ago, this was how her life would play out, she’d have laughed. Baker Jackson’s? Maybe. He was reckless. On more than one occasion, in his youth, she’d bailed him out of a close call.

Sure, she’d chewed him out a time or two, but for the most part, embraced her role as the family’s champion. Their mother had left a void. Lilly filled it.

And, like an old dream, she could remember it, but the edges were fuzzy. If she reached out, she might be able to touch it with her fingertips before it fluttered away again.

But it
would
disappear. It always did.

On several occasions, she’d convinced herself she was still sleeping. Still unaware, floating, feeling the occasional hand in hers. Dreaming of her family of four.

Not two.

She’d woken from one nightmare to enter another. Nothing was right. Her body was different. Hair longer. A giant scar she still saw even after hiding it behind bandannas and headbands. And hats. She’d even consulted a specialist about hair transplants and been unable to follow through with treatment.

It would erase the surface blemishes while leaving the inside the same ugly shade. She touched her stomach. Another jagged defect crossed the area, hip bone to hip bone. One she couldn’t hope to cover with anything but a one-piece swimsuit.

Baker Jackson sent a glance backward, his gaze traveling over Lilly and then Amanda, before bouncing back. As if to say,
behave
.

As if she were no better than a five-year-old.

Then he and Ariana entered a hospital room, their steps slowing. Two nurses buzzed around the bed, checking monitors and settling their patient. Their movements brought back memories. Her patients. The camaraderie of Labor and Delivery. New life. Scared, first time mothers. The pros with three children already at home.

L & D had its sad moments. Preemies that fought for life in the NICU. Stillbirths that left families with an empty crib and a funeral to plan. Twins born, one of them not making it.

Emergency C-sections that added a family member and took another. Young mothers giving up their newborns in hopes of offering a better life, via adoption, than they, themselves, could afford.

Lilly stopped inside the door. A ventilator pumped air into the man’s lungs. Gauze wrapped around his head, pieces of dark curly hair peeking out. Stubble lined a swollen chin. One eye was purple and huge, the other not far behind. Judging from the packing in his torso, the surgery wasn’t complete. It meant he’d crashed on the table and they’d brought him back, but needed to let his body stabilize.

Tubes snaked from every spare inch of flesh. Catheters, an IV, feeding tube and monitors. He looked like Frankenstein’s science experiment on a heavy dose of crack.

Breathing took more effort than normal. Something pricked the back of her eyes. Lilly grabbed for the nearest object and met a solid door.

For her, this moment trumped every nursing memory she had. Didn’t know why. Couldn’t summon up the strength to process the sudden brick wall she was smashed against.

She tried to swallow past a sudden tightening in her throat. Had she looked like this, at first? Had Jeff seen her and experienced this crushing anxiety growing upward and promising suffocation? The knowledge that there was no way she’d ever return to full function. Or at all.

Did this man—Jonas—have anyone who would sit at his bedside? And wonder. Agonize. Remember better times. And pray for more. Hope for something far out of reach. Or would they fail in his biggest time of need?

“You okay?” Amanda’s voice was soft. Full of genuine warmth.

It grated on Lilly’s nerves, even as her brain told her to reach out and take this bit of friendship. Every muscle in her body clenched.

She hated that anyone had witnessed this moment in her life. Current and former. Tried praying for patience that had deserted her long ago. “No, I’m not okay. My daughter was attacked.”

Softness lingered in the other woman’s eyes. “I meant right this second, Lilly. Of course, I know you’re not okay with the events of today. Nobody would be.”

How did she do that? Care despite a bag of bad apples rotting at her feet. Amanda was the quintessential good girl. Always compassionate. Somebody else’s needs foremost in her mind.

But she was also a fighter. Anybody who talked to her for ten minutes could see that. She didn’t know how to cower away from one without a clear winner. Might step back and revamp, but never quit.

She and Baker Jackson were very much alike on that point. They’d both stand their ground until drained of every ounce of blood. Every breath.

Lilly used to be like that once. And then she wasn’t, because of a decision that hadn’t been hers. “Stop pretending like you understand. Stop trying to help. You’ve done enough. I’m not sure why you don’t get that.” The words floated to her ears as her own. The truth trapped air in her lungs.

She clenched her hands. Bit down on her tongue until she tasted blood. Waited for Amanda to strike back. Hoped the other woman might deliver the slap Lilly deserved.

Would she feel it?

The grip of Ariana’s earlier embrace surfaced on her skin as if the teen had her in a tight hug right now. Lilly resisted running her hands across her body for confirmation her daughter hadn’t flown across the room for another soul-crushing hug.

Amanda didn’t move. Empathy turned to blankness on the other woman’s face. “Message received. Let me do my job. Then, I’ll be out of your hair.” She didn’t wait for a response, but walked toward the hospital bed. Patted Ariana on the back. Took a breath and pulled out a notepad.

Lilly should apologize. Take every last word back. Explain that she wasn’t herself. Only a shell of who she’d been. And that she couldn’t grasp that same woman again. The one who could carry on a conversation with anyone. Saw the best in people. And loved seeing a need and filling it.