Trusting Gibson (Last Score Book 2) (23 page)

CHAPTER 20 - OUT OF MY MIND

Gibson

Five days. Five fucking days and not a word.

For the first two days I was holding it together—barely. The last three had made me sick to my stomach. Day three, we met again with the police. Charlotte and the PR team had somehow managed to keep it away from the press. The official line was that I had a virus, and as someone had wind of a doctor visiting Chloe, we had the grace of the media leaving us in private to ‘recover’.

I felt a total failure that I’d let the ball drop with Chloe’s safety and I had to make a call I was dreading to make. When I found the number for her parents in her phone, I felt sick. They had no idea what had happened and preferred they heard it from someone who knew Chloe, than strangers. When I dialed Chloe’s parents’ number I was shaking with nerves. Swiping her phone open I swallowed hard for the umpteenth time that day and prepared to deliver some news no parent should ever hear.

When I heard her mom tears stung in my own eyes and I’m not soft. By the time the call was over, I was kicking my ass all over again for the suffering I’d caused everyone by being so selfish. Cathy and George seemed lovely people, but her father was angry with me, and I deserved the venom he unleashed on the phone. Charlotte arranged to bring her parents on the first flight up and I sent Jerry to bring them over to the hotel as soon as they landed.

Ruby had to be told, but I figured Chloe’s parents telling her had to be better than me having contact with her. As soon as I thought about Ruby I felt sick again. Another hurdle I’d have to overcome in the future when the penny dropped in my mind about why her face registered with me when so many girls hadn’t. Maybe all this was why I never did relationships? I was a walking nightmare with a catalogue of fuck-ups to my name.

Charlotte booked her parents into another hotel to the one I was in. They needed privacy during all of this. I spoke by phone hourly as we waited for news, but I wasn’t going to risk drawing attention to them by going there. Besides, I was supposed to have a virus.

Day four and I found myself ordering a bottle of Glenfiddich Malt Whiskey against the advice of everyone present. But they were only spectators in all of this, Chloe’s loss was mine. I was the one going through the torture of knowing that it was me that put her in danger.

There were two camps of thought. One that wanted the news to be made public, and to try to flush Kace into the open with the general public actively looking for him in the hope that someone would happen across where Chloe was being kept. The other camp felt if we pushed him into a corner it would become a siege situation. So we did nothing…and it was fucking terrifying to think that my hands were tied by some unstable guy with a grudge on me and my girl.

“Gib, get your ass off the bed and clean yourself up. Shower, and shave we think we’ve found her.”

My eyes snapped open and the top half of my body sprang bolt upright. My heart beat thudding rapidly in my chest, racing like a high speed train gathering momentum.

“What? Where? Is she okay? Fuckin’ tell me she’s okay. What do you mean you think…” Hauling my ass out of bed, I started toward him, but leaned out and grabbed the nightstand to steady myself. I had passed out a few hours before after drinking half a bottle of whiskey. It was the first time I had slept more than twenty minutes since Chloe had been taken, and it was day five.

“Not sure Gib, all I know is that a woman has been left by the side of Lake Union in a t-shirt and a bathrobe with the hotel logo. She had a note pinned to her that said, ‘Guess where I’ve been?’ She fits Chloe’s description and she has an emerald ring that matches the description of the one that Chloe wears.”

Trying to swallow down the fear, my heartbeat raced, causing a throb in my temple. I was hesitant to even ask the next question. Adrenaline had begun to make my body vibrate and I was finding it difficult to fight back the tears that stung at the back of my eyes, begging to be released.

When I spoke it was so quiet…like I didn’t want to say it out loud. “Chloe isn’t conscious?” As soon as the words were out, it felt like my heart stopped. It probably didn’t, but I know I held my breath, waiting to hear the worst.

Johnny looked at Jerry and Charlotte and rubbed his hand down his face, taking in a long, deep breath. Charlotte came over and sat down beside me, placing her arm around my neck to comfort me. She had stayed on after the meeting a few days ago and tried to make herself useful. She was also great at fending off the rest of the team.

One of the detectives wanted the rest of the band out of the loop, saying the less people that knew about Chloe being missing the better. Then no one could be overheard talking about it.

Johnny exhaled a heavy breath and slapped his hands on his thighs, pushing himself up to stand. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he stared sympathetically at me. “The woman they found isn’t talking, Gib. Emma has gone to the hospital with Detective Mulligan to confirm that it is …or to exclude her from their enquiries.”

“Stop! Start again. Tell me
exactly
what the deal is. Why the fuck is Emma going and not me?”

“We don’t want a circus, Gibson. They are pretty sure it’s her which is why I’m telling you, but the PR team want to keep it as low key as possible for the both of you. George is meeting Emma at the hospital.”

Jerry cleared his throat and swallowed hard, then referred to his laptop screen.

“This is what we were sent, Gibson. At 6.36am, James Farrell was walking his dog on the south side of Lake Union when he came across a young woman in a black t-shirt and white bathrobe with a note pinned to her saying ‘Guess where I’ve been.’ She’s in shock and non-responsive at the moment. The guy rang 911 and she’s been taken downtown to one of the Sovereign Mental Health team’s facilities near the lake.”

As Jerry finished speaking, Johnny’s cell rang and he turned away from us, walking toward the door and speaking quietly.

“Will y’all stop leaving the fucking room when the phone rings?” I called out in frustration as I watched Johnny’s shoulders bunch up near his ears like he was stressed and worried about what he was listening to. Suddenly his shoulders sagged and he spun around to face me, making eye contact.

“It’s her. Chloe. The girl they found is Chloe.”

Waving the fingers of my outstretched hand, I said, “Gimme me the phone. Give me the fucking phone.” Snatching the phone out of Johnny’s hand I held it briefly to my chest. “Get the car. Get the fucking car. What are you waiting for?” Turning my attention to the call, I asked, “Who is this?” As soon as Emma said her name I cut her off. “Emma? Is she okay? Tell me she’s okay.”

“She’s alive, Gibson. Hopefully in time she’ll be okay. Chloe isn’t talking yet, she’s in shock. They’re saying she’s deeply traumatized right now. No one has any idea what’s happened to her so they are doing all the tests and assessments to cover all possibilities.”

Anxious feelings became even more debilitating to me, because whatever had happened to Chloe must have been so difficult that she was blocking everything out.

“What the fuck does that mean? All possibilities?” My question died on my lips as a jolt of electricity hit me square in the chest— they were assessing Chloe to see if she had been drugged or raped. Suddenly I was too choked to speak. I handed the phone to Charlotte to conclude the call, because the thought that he’d taken Chloe against her will was too horrendous to contemplate.

Black, angry thoughts about what I wanted to do to the guy filled the blank space that was in my mind, because I couldn’t accept any thoughts that Kace had done that to her. I made a silent promise to myself not to kill the guy when I got my hands on him, but Kace was definitely going to feel my wrath for fucking with Chloe again. I hadn’t even asked if he’d hit her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?

There was no time for anything other than pulling on the clothing that had just come back from the laundry. Chloe’s favoritet-shirt of mine was on the top of the pile, so I pulled it on, grabbed my wallet and my phone, and some clothing for Chloe, then Jerry took me to the car in the alleyway where Johnny was waiting.

The radio was on but I don’t think Johnny noticed, he was almost as worried as I was about Chloe. Although he’d been skeptical at first, I could see that he had noted the changes in me once Chloe was on the scene. Sting was singing “Every Breath You Take” and I hit the off button on the car dashboard.  My chest filled with fury.

 “Fuck, the asshole must have been watching our every move.”

Feeling livid and helpless at the same time is a frustrating combination. My gut felt like it was going to burst and Johnny seemed to be driving like a day-tripper out sight-seeing. Every minute that passed that we weren’t there already, left me more and more frustrated. “Put your foot down for God’s sake, this is taking forever.”

Johnny turned his head briefly. “Stay in control Gib, I’m driving as fast as the traffic allows me. You need to get your temper in check. Chloe doesn’t need someone turning up who is humming with anger. She’s going to need you to be very patient and controlled to make her feel safe.” He was right.

By the time we had drove up the long driveway, my heart had finally reached my mouth. I was trembling with anticipation and worry of what I was going to find when I saw Chloe.  The modern building surprised me. I always figured places that dealt with mental health issues were big austere looking places and I felt embarrassed that me of all people was stereotyping like that.

Cool mint green décor and fresh flowers and the soft furnishings made the facility feel more like a health spa and shattered the preconceived ideas I’d had on the drive over. The staff on the front desk seemed calm and super-efficient, which gave me some confidence about Chloe being in good hands.

George was gracious and told the staff that we shared next-of-kin status, and that I was to be involved in the sharing of information. I was thankful for his acceptance like that, especially given the part I played in Kace finding Chloe in the first place. I was surprised he could do that, but because Chloe wasn’t in the position to give her consent it fell to George to make decisions for her.

I wanted to stay. They refused point blank to hear of it. The fact that they were so careful as to check who I was with my driver’s license, even when they had addressed me by name, spoke volumes about them safeguarding my girl.

Johnny came over and sat beside me while the receptionist rang the psychiatrist who was treating Chloe. “Jerry said we had a clear run, Gib. No one knows we’re here. I know you felt it took an age to get here but in these situations counter surveillance is important, the last thing we want is Chloe in the spotlight right now.”

Dr. Anthony Owen, Chloe’s psychiatrist, was a short balding red headed guy with thick rimmed glasses and a portly appearance. Pretty much the opposite of me to look at, but exactly the guy Chloe needed in her life right now. Within a couple of minutes he was sharing his expertize on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD as he kept referring to it. He spelt out immediately that he would not allow anyone to question his judgment about what was best for Chloe in this instant. I don’t think he really meant
anyone
, I think that particular comment was served to keep me in check.

So, for the following half an hour, he spoke and I sat listening, becoming more and more conscious of the seriousness of Chloe’s condition. Dr. Owen explained gently that Chloe may not recognize me.

“Chloe may not remember what actually happened, while emotions experienced during the trauma may be re-experienced without her understanding why, due to repressed feelings because she is afraid of them. Or, she may disassociate herself in her mind to numb out the feelings. This can lead to the traumatic events being constantly experienced as if they were happening in the present, preventing her from gaining perspective on the experience.”

When the doctor said she may disassociated I asked what that meant. From what he said, she was staring into space in a completely non-responsive state at that point. My reaction was that I wanted to tear the place apart to find her. Part of me thought if I could just take her back to my cabin in the woods, a quiet life would make everything okay. My reality was that I was eaten up with guilt because it was my selfish attitude that had put her where she was.

Understanding where Chloe was emotionally, and what that meant for Chloe wasn’t easy. Dr. Owen told me the plan was for her to rest for twenty-four hours and then for them to commence a strict regimen of recovery involving cognitive behavioral therapy and an innovative and highly successful newer therapy, Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EDMR).

All of this information was beyond someone like me, but I was going to have to be schooled in it. If this was what Chloe needed, then I had to know what it was and what to look for, to know that it was working.

The doctor’s team was very conservative about their long term outlook for Chloe, but they told me that recovery would depend on Chloe’s attitude and personality, as well as how good her support network was around her.
Some support network we were, when we’d all failed her.

Everything I was being told seemed too difficult to comprehend. 
How am I supposed to deal with a sick girlfriend and work?
Again, I had to dismiss the thought, because people in ordinary jobs got sick daily and they had to manage. At least I had money to pay people to help me.

“Damn. Damn. Damn.” When I spoke to the doctor I behaved rationally and very matter of fact, gaining as much information as I could. When he said I couldn’t see her, I almost lost it. I only wanted to see that she was okay. He was sympathetic to my suffering as well, but he said that there was a danger if Chloe saw someone she was close to, it could trigger another set of events in her mind.

Initially I refused to go home, but they were completely insistent that this was a slow process and that I would be escorted off the premises. So I had to put what was best for Chloe above what was best for me.  So I found myself in the car on the way home, staring at the phone number I’d been given to call for a daily update on her condition.