Saving Me (Finding You #3) (14 page)

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

Kyle

I had been winched on board the chopper after John and flown to Bear Valley Community Hospital, where I’d been told Dakota had already been admitted via ambulance.

I was relieved she was still alive and couldn’t wait to see her again.

Switching my cell phone on, I was bombarded with texts and missed calls from my father. I couldn’t blame him for wondering what was going on. Both my parents would be desperate for news.

Sitting on a helicopter with a corpse and the State Police was not the time to be calling home. It would have to wait. Getting to Dakota was the first priority and making sure she was okay.

My subconscious balked at the term ‘okay.’ I knew she would be far from okay, but as long as her injuries would heal over time and she would recover, that was all I needed to hear.

The medics had worked on John, trying to bring him back to life in a futile attempt at doing their jobs, but he was long gone and beyond repair.

As the chopper banked and made its descent to the helipad at the hospital, John was officially declared dead.

I sat somewhat detached, looking out the window into the darkness, wishing to hell this would all be over. I just wanted to get back to normal and return home with Dakota and Daniel.

I combed a hand through my hair and let out a long breath. The happy ever after may not happen. Even dead, John may still get the last laugh if my ass is hauled off to prison.

No one had spoken to me on the relatively short ride to the closest hospital and I was grateful for it. I needed to get my head around what had gone down before I started answering questions.

My knee had swollen to nearly double its normal size and was throbbing wildly but I was grateful that my injuries weren’t more severe…or worse.

What had happened to the police back at the cabin on the lake? None of them had exited. There had been gunfire. Of that I was sure.

“Mr. Rutherford?”

“Hmm?” I looked up at Hawkins.

“We’re here. You need to get that knee looked at.” He held out his hand to assist me off the chopper to the waiting wheelchair and doctors.

It was cramped but I managed to hobble outside and sit in the chair. Medics rushed me inside. Behind us it sounded like there were fifty people all talking at once, the words deceased being used more than once.

The media were going to be swarming all over this when they found out, if they already hadn’t. Reporters had an uncanny ability to sniff out a story and get it to air while things were still happening as if they were lying in wait, cameras on, film crew on standby.

Fortunately we had landed in a restricted area and I didn’t have to deal with any of that yet.

Inside, I was asked a series of questions pertaining to my identity and injuries before being wheeled to an examination room with the multitude of other patients in the Emergency Room.

I kept my head down so as to not be recognized by the general public but could feel the stares as we moved past to the room at the end.

Thankfully the curtains were drawn.

“Are you able to move to the bed? Do you need a hand?” a pleasant, middle aged nurse asked.

I stood, gripping the armrests on the wheelchair to help push myself up and hopped to the bed, climbing up and lying down.

“The doctor will be here in a moment to assess your leg before getting you down to x-ray.”

“Thank you.”

A cuff was placed tightly around my left arm as the nurse took my blood pressure, making notes on a chart.

“Is it possible to have some water?”

The nurse thought for a minute. “Well, I can get you a glass but just have a small amount until we know if you need surgery or not. The doctor may want nothing by mouth.”

“Okay, great.” My head flopped back onto the pillow. Noises bounced off each other. Someone coughing. Another groaning. Phones ringing. It never seemed to ease. For a smaller facility, it sure was busy.

It was 3 a.m. The night seemed endless. I needed sleep but knew that even if I were left in peace, it wouldn’t come. My mind was too wired. Flashes of John being alive one minute and dead the next kept playing over and over, taunting me. That voice gloating about Dakota and her luscious body. Fuck!

I screwed my eyes shut tightly and covered my face with an arm at a lame attempt to block out the mental noise that had taken up residence in my head.

Disturbing scenes of what John could possibly have done with Dakota left me nauseous and anxious. I needed to see her. Comfort her. Tell her how much I loved her and apologize for letting her go again. There would be no third time.

How had I been so stupid? I’d known the fear she carried with her after the rose under the door incident. How had I dismissed it all so quickly after viewing the apartment video my father had obtained? Just because footage had failed to reveal John’s identity didn’t mean the man wasn’t lurking nearby.

We should have all traveled to get the necklace together.

The nurse walked through the door carrying half a glass of water. A blond-haired doctor that looked to be about my age, wearing a white coat, followed. He let me have a few sips of water before he spoke.

“Hello. I’m Doctor Henley. I’d like to have a look at your leg, if you don’t mind.”

The doctor moved closer while the nurse stood at the end of the bed, watching and waiting for instructions from Dr. Henley. He gently pushed and prodded around my knee cap, flaring the pain up again as I sucked in my yelp.

“Can you bend your knee for me?”

I brought my knee up just so far and then had to stop. It was too sore to move it further.

“Nurse? Would you please remove Mr. Rutherford’s shoes for me? I’d like to check his feet and toes.”

“Certainly, Doctor.”

With shoes and socks removed, the doctor had me wiggling my toes and moving my ankle backwards and forwards while feeling around the tibia and fibula.

Looking up, the doctor made a rough diagnosis. “Well, your knee cap is definitely broken. The tibia, fibula, and tarsel bones all look fine but we’ll need to do an x-ray just to be sure. Once we know the extent of the patella break we can organize some surgery for you. Are there any questions?”

Yeah, I had plenty of questions but not about my damn knee. “I need to know how my girlfriend is. She was brought here before me and I haven’t heard a thing. How can I find out if she’s okay?”

The doctor looked to the nurse with his eyebrows raised. “Nurse?”

The woman replied, “I’ll look into it, Doctor.” She winked at me and left.

With that I was alone again as both doctor and nurse disappeared. I hoped to God, there would be good news about Dakota. Not seeing her was killing me. Who knew how long it would be now that I needed surgery? A large portion of my anxiety would be eased when I had her in my arms again because I was never going to let go.

I took my cell out of my shorts pocket and sent a quick text to my father. It was a cop out but until Dakota’s condition was verified, it was pointless.

Dad, Dakota’s alive. John’s dead. I’m okay but awaiting knee surgery. Don’t panic. Will call you in a few hours.

Daniel was in great hands, so that was one less thing to worry about. The boy would no doubt be stressing but my parents would try to keep him amused and his mind occupied.

The nurse came in five minutes later with an orderly that was to wheel me to x-ray.

“I’ve located your girlfriend. Ms. Livingston was admitted a few hours ago and is stable. She’s sleeping comfortably.”

The relief was massive. I didn’t know what the hell had happened back at the cabin or the extent of her injuries, but it sounded as if she was going to be fine. For now that would have to be enough, but after surgery I needed to see her.

I gave the nurse a nod, eyeing her name tag. “Thanks, Judy. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I may not see you again down here because I think after x-ray you’re headed straight for surgery, so you take care of yourself, you hear?” She winked as I shuffled off the bed and moved to the waiting wheelchair.

“I plan on it.” I disappeared out the door into the bowels of the busy hospital.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Dakota

Sleep had failed to resurrect me from my gloom. My heavy eyelids, one of which was swollen anyway, didn’t want to open even slightly.

The sounds outside my room were starting to take shape in the form of staff moving about and talking, phones buzzing, and pans clanging.

I curled into a ball, wanting to fall back into sweet oblivion. The mindless sleep had been the only escape from my hell that I’d resided in since Saturday.

I winced as my cracked ribs vetoed the movement.

I tried to process everything thus far. If I didn’t have the injuries as proof, I may have been able to pass it off as a horrific dream. There were so many questions that needed answering.

How had John been able to escape Australia with a warrant for his arrest? Who had hand-delivered the dried rose to the apartment? How had he found me? Where the hell was he now? Was he still watching and waiting?

I’d rather die than have to go through anything resembling the last couple of days. That psycho had finally sucked the last crumb of hope for a happy life out of me. In its place was numbing distress and darkness. Loneliness. A room full of people would bring no gratification. How was I expected to go on? To live when there was no joy? To smile and pretend to those I loved that everything was fine when inside, the emptiness and defeat was swallowing me up?

Kyle. Daniel. My whole world, and yet the very thought of being able to give of myself to them in the way I needed to filled me with sadness. I wasn’t the same person that had driven from the beach house early Saturday morning. I couldn’t be that person. Too much had been taken from me.

Tears trickled down my cheeks as I imagined his face. Blue eyes had been replaced with brown. Handsome features had been misshapen into a cruel, calculating roadmap of malevolence. His soft voice turned harsh.

My hands gripped the sheets tightly. Strangled whimpers left my throat.

A hand touched my arm and I let out a blood-curdling scream that sent shards of agony through my torso.

“Dakota. It’s okay. It’s just Libby, your nurse. I won’t hurt you, honey.”

“Make…it…go…away!” I reefed my arm away and tucked it under the safety of the blankets, pulling them firmly around my neck.

“How did you sleep? Did you have another nightmare?” Libby’s voice was gentle and caring.

“I slept fine.” It was the waking nightmares I was drowning in.

“Well, your vitals are good. We took some blood while you were sleeping and checked your heart-rate and blood pressure.” Libby pulled a chair over and sat beside the bed. “Did you want to talk about anything? I’m a good listener.”

That was the last thing I felt like doing. How the heck was I supposed to talk to a stranger about what I’d gone through when the very thought of it made me shake with terror?

“N…n…no! Just make it go away.” I turned my head away from the nurse, not wanting Libby to see my trembling lips.

“Well, I’m here if you need me, sweets. How is your eye today?” She obviously knew when to change the subject.

“Still swollen. I can’t see out of it.”

“How would you like me to get you some nice soothing eye pads? They’ll help with the swelling and bruising.”

“Thank you. I’d like that.”

I turned and attempted a smile, even though it was fake. Libby returned the gesture via a broad, blinding grin which lit up her whole face.

“I’ll be right back. Can I get you anything else?”

I shook my head and looked up to the ceiling, ending any more dialogue, needing to just wallow alone.

The highs and lows of the last few months swamped me. The abuse that nearly killed me the first time. Meeting Kyle. My father’s injuries caused by John. The plane crash. Christ! As if that wasn’t enough, I was an accessory to murdering Daniel’s father and practically kidnapping the boy from his home to ensure a better life for him.

I had somehow come out of all that relatively unscathed. It was the recent events that had pushed me over the edge. Maybe I’d been teetering close all along without realizing it.

I had finally hit rock bottom. The fall had been long and hard and now I was lying in a crumpled heap, unable to pick myself up. My spark was gone. Life was pointless.

I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t. It’s too hard. I’m nothing. Life will continue to go on without me.

I eyed the needle going into my arm with the drip connected and wondered what would happen if I pulled it out. Would the nurse notice? Most definitely. Did I really care? No.

Turning my hand over, palm down, I ripped the clear tape off and gently pulled the needle out, making sure to keep the catheter attached to it or all the fluid would start leaking out onto the floor. I tucked it under my pillow so the nurse may still think it was connected and then I turned back around and faced the ceiling again.

There was no emotion that went with it. I’d wanted the drip out and so I’d taken it out. That was that. I didn’t want anything helping me get better. I didn’t want to get better. I wanted to end it all and drift down the nice long tunnel where I’d met my grandmother after the plane crash. The peace had been exquisite. I needed to feel that again. My body was battered, bruised, and abused. It was dirty. I was dirty. Broken.

Libby entered the room again, wheeling a trolley. “I’ve got the eye pads I promised and I brought you some more pain meds.”

The bed started to elevate at the head so I was sitting more upright. Libby was using a remote attached to the wall. “Let’s get these pain killers into you first and then you can rest with these soothing eye pads, hey?”

I didn’t have the energy or the inkling to reply but gladly accepted the tablets and water that would help eradicate some pain and hopefully push me into blackness again.

“Now, I’m going to place these pads on your closed eyelids. All you have to do is just lie still and let them do their job.”

Libby opened the wrapper and removed two eye pads that looked like they were filled with a gel substance. Still on my back, I made sure both eyes were tightly sealed. The remarkably cool pads did indeed feel nice.

“How do they feel?” asked Libby.

“Nice, actually,” I replied, honestly.

“Good. Well, you just rest for a while. Breakfast will be coming around in about an hour. If you drift off to sleep, I’ll get them to leave you a tray for when you wake up.”

The nurse really was trying to be nice so I offered her a small “Thank you.”

Wondering when or if Libby would notice the needle gone from my hand, it didn’t take long to find out. The nurse was obviously extremely observant.

“You’ve taken your drip out! Why?” Her voice was concerned, not angry.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

She sat on the bed. “You have to. You have people who love and care about you. They need you. It’s going to get better, I promise. Once you get some fluids into you and rest some more, things won’t seem so bad.”

“Is it really necessary?” I couldn’t keep pulling the needle out or she would just keep re-inserting it. My hand was already stinging.

“Of course! You were extremely dehydrated when you arrived. We need to keep the fluids up for the first 24 hours, then I’ll see about having it removed.”

Whatever. I didn’t argue but merely sat like a statue as the nurse re-inserted the needle.

“There. That’s better. I’ll just open your curtains for you too. It might be nice to look outside and see the sunshine when you wake up.”

Normally I would have relished the idea of seeing something other than four sterile walls but today the small room brought with it a certain amount of comfort. Safety and solitude.

It wasn’t long before a drowsiness took hold from the medication. I welcomed it with open arms and let myself drift away to my dark sanctuary.