The Christmas Vigil (10 page)

“Who says we owe him anything?” Clay hissed.

Brandon stared at him. “Think for a moment, for Christ’s sake. According to the investigating officer, no one else entered the room. Do you know what I’m saying? The mystery woman, whoever she was, didn’t show. We don’t even know if she exists. Everything we’ve been told is circumstantial.”

Brandon drew in a deep breath and sighed, forcing a more even tone. “You were raised with the same principles as I was, Clay. Innocent until proven guilty, remember? It’s a tenet of our legal system we fight to uphold and one we’re rightly proud of. Surely, it’s the least Dad deserves? He’s given his life to that very system, as have the rest of us.”

Clayton’s gaze narrowed. “When did you speak with Joel Parker?”

Brandon held his gaze. “Riley called me about an hour ago. He was on his way here from Watervale. He spoke to Joel this morning.”

The hard expression in Clayton’s eyes didn’t falter. “Why didn’t Riley call me?”

Brandon shrugged. Clay fumed, disappointed that his twin had rung Brandon instead of him. Brandon eyed him in silence and then cursed softly under his breath.

“You go on ahead, Clay,” he muttered. “Go and see Dad. Do what you need to do. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“How are you getting back to Mom’s?”

Brandon shrugged. “I’ll work something out.”

“Aren’t you coming up to see him?”

“Of course, but you can go in first. Mom said they’ve been restricting his visitors.” Brandon returned Clay’s hard stare. “You need to see him more than I do.”

Clay stared at him a moment longer and then spun on his heel and continued toward the elevators. He unclenched his fists and forced air deep into his lungs in an effort to calm himself down. It wasn’t like he could storm into the ICU and demand answers from a man in a coma. He’d be thrown right out on his ear. Besides, it wouldn’t do his father any good to upset him. For all of his anger and feelings of betrayal, Clay didn’t want to harm his father’s chances of recovery.

The elevator
dinged
when it reached the floor and the doors slid open with a swish. Clay went to leave and almost collided with Riley who’d been about to step inside.

“Clay! You’re here. It’s good to see you.” Riley gave him a brief hug. “When did you get in?”

Clayton forced a half-hearted smile of acknowledgement that felt more like a grimace. “Last night. I flew to Sydney and then hopped a plane up here with Tom and Declan and Brandon. But I assume you already got all that from Brandon.”

Riley’s gaze narrowed at his brother’s truculent tone. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Why are you so god-damned prickly? We’re all suffering here. You’re not the only one. This is about Dad, not you.”

Clay lowered his gaze and fought off the stab of guilt. He
was
behaving badly. Riley was right. This wasn’t about him. The fact that his twin had shared information with one of his brothers before he shared it with him shouldn’t have hurt like it did.

Clay didn’t realize how fragile he was, perhaps because of the ongoing battle between Ellie and Olivia. It had worn him down and shortened his temper without him being consciously aware of it. Something had to be done about it. He just didn’t know what. What he did know was that now wasn’t the time to deal with it.

He sighed heavily and offered Riley an apology. “I’m sorry, Riles. I’m being a prick. We’re all worried about Dad and trying to come to terms with what was discovered in that hotel room… I’m struggling, mate. I really am.”

Riley’s lips tightened, but he nodded in understanding. “I take it you haven’t seen him yet?”

“No. We came straight here from the airport last night, but they told us visiting hours were over.”

“Yeah, they’re keeping a pretty tight rein on his visitors at the moment. They don’t want to tire him out.”

“He’s still unconscious?”

“Yeah, but apparently he’s responding to external stimuli. If he’s reacting, then he might be listening and comprehending, even if it doesn’t seem like it.” Riley shrugged. “They want him to put his energies into getting better.”

“That’s got to be a good sign, though?”

“Yeah, I think so. The nurse told me he’d had a good night.”

“You must have left home early this morning? It’s the best part of two hours from Watervale.”

“Yeah, I left just before eight. I-I wanted to see him again.”

Clayton nodded grimly. “So do I.”

Riley searched Clay’s face, his expression somber. “Go easy on him, Clay. We don’t know anything for sure. And we don’t want to slow his progress by upsetting him.”

Clayton averted his gaze. “Yeah.” It was all he could manage.

* * *

Clay stared at the pasty, old man who lay sick and defenseless in the steel-framed hospital bed and tried to reconcile what he saw with the man he remembered. He hadn’t been home for a while, but surely, this couldn’t be his father? Where was the loud, robust, larger-than-life man he’d known and loved all his life? It couldn’t be the frail and motionless person with his head covered in bandages lying in the bed in front of him.

Scrunching his eyes up tight, he took a moment before opening them, as if somehow he could change the appearance of the man before him. He pulled up the single chair that stood by his father’s bed and accepted the realization that Duncan Munro was ill—gravely ill, from the look of the tubes and machines and other medical paraphernalia that crowded the small space around him.

He’d wanted to rant and rave about the injustice of his father’s actions; he’d wanted to demand to know why; he’d wanted to bleat and bellow and shout out his anger, but he couldn’t do any of those things to the feeble, old man in the bed. It looked like even a harsh whisper might do him in.

Feeling the need to reassure his father and perhaps even himself, he leaned over and took hold of his father’s hand.

“Hi, Dad. It’s Clayton. It’s good to see you. It’s been awhile. I’ve been flat out at work and all the other stuff we get caught up in. Ellie and the kids send their love.”

He injected a lighter tone in his voice and continued. “The doctors and nurses say you’re doing well, Dad. They’re confident you’re going to wake up.” He paused and then spoke again with renewed determination. “Of
course
you’re going to wake up. You’re as tough as a piece of beef jerky. You’ve never let anything defeat you and this won’t, either. I won’t let it. You’re going to pull through this, Dad. You wait and see.”

His father remained quiet and unresponsive. Clayton’s shoulders slumped on a heavy sigh. He leaned forward with his head in his hands and recalled how angry he’d been since he heard about what happened. He was determined to believe the worst about the man he loved and respected beyond words.

How had he gotten to this point? When had he become so quick to judge?
He prided himself on seeing things from all angles, on weighing up the evidence against the facts and then listening to his gut. It was the way he’d always worked and that had helped him become one of Australia’s most respected criminal profilers.

Yet, here he was, with his father, no less, and he’d passed judgement against the man in a matter of moments. Clay might have had Declan on his side, but Tom and Brandon weren’t. Even Riley had urged caution and his twin wasn’t known to hold back.

Could it be the stress he was under at home?
Could that be the reason he’d been so quick to lay blame? For the past six years, he’d walked a tightrope between Ellie, the wife he adored and loved with his heart and mind and body and soul, and his daughter, Olivia, the little girl he doted on. He’d taken pains not to take sides, not to lay blame when the two females in his life clashed. It happened with a depressing frequency.

All at once, he let his anger slide. “Oh, Dad,” he confessed, “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do and I don’t know how to fix it. I love Ellie to distraction. She’s my life. But Olivia’s my daughter, my little girl. I thought I was doing the right thing by marrying Ellie. I thought she might be the mother Olivia had never known. But I was wrong. I was absolutely wrong. Olivia thinks she’s lost me, too. That I’m more into being Ellie’s husband than being her father. Or at least, that’s what she says.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I thought it would pass, that Olivia would get used to having Ellie around. I hoped they’d bond, but it’s been six years and it still hasn’t happened. Even when the boys came along, Olivia continued to keep her distance. I hate to admit it, but if anything, having Mitchell and Damon has only made it worse. I thought we’d be one big, happy family, but the truth couldn’t be any more different.”

Clay lifted his head and stared at his father, but the man continued to lie unresponsive in the bed. With another sigh, he reached over and gave his father’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Riley had urged him not to upset the man and here he was, dumping his problems at his father’s feet. And not just little problems, either. At the moment, they seemed insurmountable.

Clay shook his head, despair weighing him down. Neither Ellie nor Olivia was going anywhere soon. He had to find a solution. He had to find a way for them to love each other, as dearly as he loved them both.

* * *

Duncan Munro struggled to hear his son’s voice through the thick sludge that surrounded him. His head pounded and felt like it was stuffed full of wadding. He concentrated hard and was sure it was Clayton who spoke to him in a voice so full of desolation, it nearly broke his heart.

In the next moment, he thought it was Riley talking; the twins sounded so much alike. Without Caller ID, it was impossible to tell them apart when they called him on the phone. But then he caught mention of Ellie and Olivia and suddenly knew it was Clay.

Duncan listened to the pain in Clay’s words and his chest went tight. He tried to turn his head, to open his mouth and offer comfort, but his brain refused to give the order. Nothing worked. He clenched his jaw in frustration. Or at least, he thought he did. His head was so foggy and dull, he couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Brandon

Grafton, New South Wales

Brandon strode out of the hospital and headed toward a garden on the edge of the entrance to the car park. Clayton’s continued anger at their father upset him. The fact that Clay had fair reason to be angry made Brandon even sadder. He didn’t want to believe his father was a cheat, but neither could he ignore what the evidence suggested.

What he wanted was to talk to his dad and have him allay his fears, like he always had in the past, but his dad was in a coma and no one knew when he’d wake; or even
if
he’d wake…

Brandon missed Alex, too and the thought that she could go into labor any minute constantly played on his mind. He pulled out his phone and dialed his home number, needing to hear her voice.

In contrast to his heavy mood, the warm summer morning bathed him in its heat and the light breeze carried the heavy scent of jacarandas. The trees were famous for their thick clumps of purple bell-like flowers and there were several large specimens in the hospital grounds, their branches generously laden. He’d always loved the sight and the smell of them—an integral part of his childhood.

The huge trees lined many of the streets of Grafton and this time of year, the delicate, frondlike leaves were a bright, almost lime green, providing a stunning contrast to the spectacular purple display. The trees also clung to the banks of the wide Clarence River that ran along one side of the city and provided a haven for the millions of bats that called the jacarandas home.

Brandon remembered watching with awe as a kid while the evening sky filled with the black shadows of bats. By the thousands, they’d fly from somewhere upriver and settle among the dark branches. It was a nightly event he could almost set his watch by.

The phone was finally answered and Brandon swallowed a sigh of relief. If Alex was home, she wasn’t in a labor ward and for that, he was inordinately grateful.

“Hi, sweetheart. It’s me. I just thought I’d call you and see how you were doing.”

“Brandon, how are you? How’s your dad?”

“He-he’s about the same, I think. I haven’t been in to see him, yet. We got in too late last night and I just arrived at the hospital. Clayton’s in with him now.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. You’ll see. He’s not going to give up easily. Where do you think you got your fighting spirit from?”

Brandon smiled at her compliment and hoped like hell she was right. “How are you doing? And the baby? No signs that it’s on its way?”

“No, darling, I promise. My due date’s still two days away and I’ll probably go over, like the last time. If anything happens, I’ll call you.”

“Promise?”

Alex sighed. “I promise. Now, go and say hello to your father. You need to make sure he’s all right.”

“Thanks, babe. It’s good to talk to you.” He paused and then added in a voice thick with emotion, “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“Say hello to Sam and Bella and give them both a kiss.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Brandon ended the call and sighed. Alex was right. It was time he went in and saw his father.