The REASON Series - the Complete Collection (19 page)

“You can take off,” I tell him.
 

“I’d like to stay. Make sure you’re alright.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Alright.”
 

I notice that we are alone once again in the waiting room and outside the door there are several nurses gathered around the desk. Looking beyond them to the board, I see that the majority of the rooms are now empty.
 

“What is taking so long?” I ask aloud, not expecting an answer.
 

“The nurse came in about three minutes ago, said Dr. Alston was on her way.”

“Finally.”

I sit back and pull my ankle up onto my knee. I put my head back against the wall behind me and close my eyes.
 

And instead of seeing the black of my eyelids, my vision shifts…

Sixteen

The image is white but three-dimensional, almost like a room. Yes, now I can make out a couch and table in front of me, but they too are as white as the walls and the floor. I can see something in the distance – not white, but dressed in white – coming closer to me. My heart rate speeds up, not in fear but in anticipation. Whatever is coming toward me is something I want, something I need. But what?
 

I watch as the figure draws closer. I feel myself growing restless with excitement. It seems to be taking forever, and I want to walk toward the figure, but I can’t. I’m frozen in place.
 

The figure draws nearer still, and finally I’m beginning to make out who is walking toward me. The bright red, curly, flowing hair belongs to Vivienne.
 

“Mikah.” It’s not the voice I was expecting, not Vivienne’s voice. “Mikah.” It’s Red. I feel his arm nudge mine. My eyes fly open. “Dr. Alston’s coming.”

“What?” Shit. I rub my eyes, hoping to dispel the image, but as soon as my eyes close again, I see her. She hasn’t moved.
 

I open my eyes again to the drab carpet of the waiting room, blink a few times and stand up. “How long was I out?” I ask Red.
 

“About three minutes.”

“Well shit. I feel like I was out for hours.” That is an understatement. Red just laughs.
 

“Nah, you’re alright,” he says.
 

I turn my head to look out the door. Dr. Alston is standing at the nurse’s desk. It looks as though she’s signing something. I start walking toward the door, but she holds her palm up toward me, gesturing for me to stop, then quickly puts up one finger.
 

Gah! Doesn’t she know this is killing me?

Seventeen

I start to pace: toward Red, back toward the door, and back toward Red again. Come on, damn it. This is killing—

“Mikah.”
 

My head snaps up and I turn around to face the tall, leggy blond. Dr. Alston. Under different circumstances I might have found her attractive. In fact, at some point I probably did. But that was before I met Vivienne.

“What’s taken so long?” I ask her sharply. Too sharply. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I know you’re anxious.” I nod. “It’s taken so long because we needed to do a post-op CAT scan. I wanted to have those results before I came to talk to you.”

“And those are what, exactly?”
 

“I’ll get there. First, she is out of surgery. The next twenty-four hours are critical, so we have her in a medically induced coma.”
 

I feel my eyes flare. I’m instantly worried about what happened earlier. I take quick stock of my body, but nothing has changed.
 

“We were able to repair her shattered rib and her lung, but she has some significant swelling in her brain and we weren’t able to do anything to relieve the pressure. However, the post-op CAT scan showed some improvement since the first one we did. Which is a good sign. Keeping her sedated will mean better chances for a faster recovery. We will do another scan tomorrow morning to see how the swelling is doing. If it has gone down some more, we may be able to gauge how much longer we’ll need to keep her in a coma until the swelling is gone completely.”
 

I’m forcing each breath in and out of my body as she is telling me this, trying desperately to soak it all in. “Can I see her?” I ask shakily.
 

“Yes.”
 

I start to move toward the door.
 

“I’m not done.”
 

I stop and turn back to her.
 

“She is being moved to a private room upstairs. A cot is being brought in. I’m assuming you will refuse to leave her until she’s awake?” I nod. “Okay, so let them get her moved and settled.”

“What about the baby?” I say, breathless.
 

“Relax, Mikah. As I said, the next twenty-four hours are critical. We won’t know anything definite for a couple of days, but I can tell you that there is a very strong heartbeat and we are monitoring for any distress.”
 

It just became a little easier to breathe. I’ve yet to figure out why I have such an attachment to this baby, but I do.
 

“Anything else?” I ask.

“Medically, no, not right now. Other than she has a broken wrist and her shoulder has been set. It is in a sling and strapped across her body to prevent any movement. It is also acting as double duty for her ribs.”

I remember her telling me this before, but it still strikes me dumb at the brutality. I haven’t even wanted to imagine what he did besides cut and beat her, but I guess my face betrays the unasked question.
 

“She wasn’t raped.” I fall into the nearest chair. “Judging by the severe bruising on her ankles and wrists, and by those around her neck, I imagine that was the intention, but we’ve checked her for any internal damage and there are no recent signs.”
 

My head falls into my hands. “Jesus Christ, what has she been through?”
 

“As a medical professional, I can’t tell you that. The only reason I’m telling you this much is because I know that her next of kin is her mother, who isn’t of sound mind, and...” She pauses. I look at her to continue. “When she was here last time, when you brought her in.” I nod. “She listed you as her emergency contact on the paperwork I left for her. Amanda, my nurse, found it in her room after she was discharged.”

My heart skips a few beats, and I know I stop breathing. I have no clue why something as inconsequential as leaving my name as a point of contact has such a profound effect on me. Hell, I don’t know much of anything anymore.
 

“She’s broken, Mikah, and as much as I know you want to fix her, you need to talk to her first. Get to know her. Her physical history is telling. I have no doubt that if approached in the right fashion, she will open up and start talking to you. But don’t push her,” she says with a glare. I nod my understanding. “She’s upstairs, top floor.”

Immediately I stand and hold out my hand. She takes it. “Thank you,” I say sincerely as I fight back the tears that threaten to spill over.
 

“My pleasure. Go. See her, be with her. I warn you though – she has a tube in her mouth, a machine is breathing for her, and she is very badly bruised up. And that is only what is starting to show now. So be ginger with her.”
 

I nod solemnly and head for the door and the elevator to my right. As I push the up button, I sense Red approaching.

“Go home,
cara
. No need for you to be here,” I say at the same time that he pushes the down button.
 

“I know.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate you being here.”
 

“I know. I’ll be back around six with food. Here, take this.” He hands me the duffle bag with my stuff in it. I take it from him. “Your chargers are in there, plus your laptop. Need anything else from home?”
 

I hear the ding of the elevator to my right and head toward it. “Right now, no. I will call if I think of something.”
 

He nods as the doors slide open and I step in.
 

“Oh, call Detective Stevens for me. Tell him what Dr. Alston said and that if he needs me, he knows where to find me.”
 

“Got it,” he says as the doors close.

Eighteen

As I come around the corner from the elevator, I see two cops standing outside of a room. Neither is talking to the other, which I find strangely comforting. At least I know they’re paying attention. The one closest to me turns in my direction as I approach.
 

“How can we help you?” he says.
 

“I’m Mikah Blake. I’m here to see Vivienne Callahan.”
 

He nods in recognition of my name but turns to face me, feet apart, at the ready.
 

“I need to see some identification, please.”
 

I’m not sure whether to be irritated or impressed by his question. I reach for my wallet, but it’s not there. Damn it.
 

“It’s in my bag,” I say, letting him know that I need to reach into someplace he can’t see.
 

“Mind if I check?” he asks.
 

I hold out the bag to him.
 

“Set it down, please, and take three steps back.”
 

I seriously want to roll my eyes. I’m the last person they need to worry about. But I take a comfort in knowing that if I have to go through this much trouble, so will everyone else.
 

I take the three steps back plus one for good measure, trying not to seem as impatient as I feel. “It should be right on top,” I say. “If it’s not there, then it’s in the long side pocket.”
 

He begins opening up the zipper on the top. I can see when he opens it that my wallet is not there. My heart skips a beat. Crap, I could have sworn I put it in the main compartment.
 

He doesn’t hesitate but goes straight into the side pocket. I can’t see what he’s seeing, but he puts his hand in and moves a few things around. “Is this it?” He looks up at me as he pulls out my black leather wallet.
 

“Yes, sir.”
 

He stands back up, looking inside the wallet, glancing from me to the driver’s license. “I need to search your bag, Mr. Blake.”

“Whatever you need.”
 

He bends back down and starts glancing through my bag. Nothing but a few articles of clothing and my shaving kit are inside. Laptop and cell phone chargers are also in there, but he seems satisfied at a cursory glance.
 

“Can you put your hands on the wall next to you?”

Oh for crying out loud. I turn toward the wall, put my hands up and spread my legs slightly. He comes up behind me and quickly pats down my under my arms and hips and runs his hands down the outside of my legs to my ankles and stands.
 

“Here’s your wallet. As long as were here, we won’t bother you again. Our shift changes at midnight. After that, make sure you have at least your wallet when you leave the room,” he states matter-of-factly.

“How long will officers be posted here?” I ask.

“Until she is discharged or the suspect is caught, whichever comes first.”

 
“Detective Stevens?”
 

 
He nods curtly. “He’s pretty adamant about keeping her well-protected. From what I understand of the situation, I don’t blame him for that.”

I nod at him. “May I go in now?”

“Absolutely.” He steps aside, and the other officer moves away from the door to allow me to pass.
 

I can’t help but feel slightly grateful for their presence here. “Thank you, gentlemen,” I say.
 

After all my eagerness to see her, I suddenly feel anxious.
 

As if in slow motion, I watch my hand reach for the door handle. Turn it. I hear and feel the click as it unlatches. I push, moving forward with the door. It feels like minutes before I clear the jamb and step into the room.
 

A curtain separates me from the rest of the room. I shut the door behind me. Soft lamp light comes through the curtain.

It takes a moment before I can make myself step past the curtain; after everything Dr. Alston told me about her condition, I’m afraid of what I’m going to see on the other side. Then the image of her walking toward me in the dream surfaces – Vivienne in a white gown, her vibrant red hair flowing over her shoulders. Beautiful.

I take a deep breath, reach for the curtain with my free hand and gingerly slide it back. I let out the breath I’ve been holding when I realize that I can’t really see anything yet. There is a small hallway and the room opens up to the left.
 

I set my bag down along the wall opposite the bathroom and take a few steps forward. The room is decorated in pale blues with a flower wallpaper boarder at the top of the walls. The only furniture is a cherry wood cabinet, a roll-away bed with blankets and pillows on top, and Vivienne’s bed.
 

As I take another step into the room, I hear the faint, rhythmic wheezing of pressurized air being forced through a tube, then sucked out again. In and out.

Suck it up, buttercup
, I tell myself and take that last step to bring me around the corner of the short hallway so I can get a full view of the bed and Vivienne.

Nineteen

The bed is laid out flat, but she is turned slightly away from me. It only takes me a moment to realize it’s because there’s a pillow underneath her shoulder and arm, which allows her arm to rest on the pillow rather than being held by a sling.

Her gorgeous red hair is splayed out across the top of the bed, and I can see the tube going into her mouth. Her eyes are closed. Her face looks peaceful, relaxed.

She actually looks quite comfortable.
 

On closer inspection, I see the bruising around her neck that Dr. Alston was talking about, and my heart stutters. I see where they put the IV into her left arm, and further down, the deep purple bruising around her wrist. I just want to cry, an urge further aggravated by the constant pushing and pulling of air through the machine.