21 Shades of Night, page 393
"Ok, I suppose. My head hurts."
"Do you need anything?" He stood from the chair, but I motioned him back down as I began spreading plain cream cheese over an onion bagel.
"I took some Advil."
"Harding was here," he said, his voice tense.
I ignored his tone of voice. My feelings about Harding were divided, to say the least. I wasn't ready to talk about Harding. "Is Laura alright? That man attacked her first."
"She's fine. You're both lucky it wasn't worse than it was." He looked at me, his eyes burning.
"I wish I could remember what happened. I remember being in the alley and I remember you bringing me inside, but beyond that...?" I mentally flicked through the memories like photos in a book, trying to understand what had happened. The holes in my memory seemed even bigger than they had earlier in the morning.
"No one knows." His voice was strained. He spun away from me then and I knew he was lying. I hadn't forgotten that other noise in the alley: the breaking of bones. None of my bones were broken, but I couldn't account for the other two people in the alley.
"This doesn't seem right," I said, moving so that our gazes met again. I needed his help, couldn't he see that? What wasn't he telling me? "Things aren't adding up. What happened?"
"I don't know. Harding hasn't exactly given me many details." That was what was pissing him off so badly; his face was transparent in his anger.
"So Harding knows something else?"
Ben shrugged and stood from the table again, this time to clear his plate. "Maybe you should talk to him."
"Oh, I will." I knew something Ben didn't: what Harding was capable of. The holes in my memory felt familiar. I hadn't forgotten about what he'd tried to do when my grandfather had attacked me.
Ben sighed, his back to me at the sink. "You need to rest."
"I will rest, when I'm good and ready, but not until someone tells me what happened back there. I need to know the whole story." I tried to keep my voice even, but I couldn't keep the annoyance from creeping into my tone.
I saw his jaw twitch as he turned to face me. "I doubt anyone knows the whole story, but we can worry about the other stuff later. You need to concentrate on resting, maybe take a bath. "
I set my bagel down on my plate, exhausted. I ran through the past forty-eight hours in my head over and over again, flitting between fear, anger and confusion. I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, welcoming the distraction of bright lights and swirling patterns. After a moment, Ben rested his hands on my shoulders before he slid them down my arms and enveloped me in a hug.
"I don't know what to do."
"Have patience," he replied, squeezing me gently.
"Don't I need to give a statement to the police? Or go back to the hospital for a follow-up?"
"Harding took care of everything." The edge was back in his voice. "Just rest."
I turned on my stool, staying in the circle of his arms. "You already said that."
"It must be true then," he said, bending down to kiss my forehead.
"A bath does sound pretty good."
"I have a few errands to run - you have no food in the house and Harding gave me a prescription to fill for you."
"What is it?"
"Valium, to help you relax." I must have made a face, because Ben chuckled. "See how you feel after the bath."
I tilted my head toward his face and kissed his lips. "Will you bring ice cream?"
"I'm sure I can manage that. I'll have my cell phone with me, so call if you need anything."
I nodded and slid off the stool, grabbing my cup of tea. I waited for him to leave before locking the back door and walking a slow circuit around the downstairs. I wasn't so confident about being alone, but after making sure the doors and windows were firmly locked, I retreated to my bathroom.
I followed my usual routine religiously, taking comfort in the familiarity of it. As I peeled off my t-shirt, I winced and, curious, turned to look at my back in the mirror. Scratches grazed across my back, red and swollen. I touched a three-inch tear across my shoulder and jolted at the remembered feeling of hitting a brick wall. Bruises on my elbows and my throat underlined the harsh pieces of memory I did have. As the fear and anger warred in my head, I brushed away at a single tear that slid down my face. I settled on the edge of the tub and ran my fingers through the sudsy water, wincing again. More scratches on my palms. A surprising amount of my skin was rubbed raw. Another tear. When I pulled my legs over the tub, letting my feet fall into the water, I nearly cried out in pain. Checking myself again, I wasn't all that surprised to find my heels cut up as well. Slowly, I touched my feet to the water again, waiting for the stinging to ease before submerging them completely. Then my legs. When I had adjusted to the aches and pains making themselves known, I let the rest of my body sink below the water line. I didn't even bother wiping at the tears.
A book lay unopened near my left hand. The idea of trying to read seemed ridiculous and instead I found myself staring at my ghastly reflection in the mirror on the back of the door. I tried to inventory the damage. Only my face and neck were visible over the edge of the tub. My hair was a tangled mess, pulled back into a loose ponytail by someone who didn't regularly make ponytails. My eyes were puffy, highlighted by dark, tired circles and my skin was downright pallid. The crying had brought out the usual blotches in my cheeks. I stopped just before the bruises on my throat and turned my head away from the mirror.
The silence in the bathroom was oppressive and I began to rethink this whole "bath sounds good" idea. Studiously avoiding the mirror, I drained the tub and wrapped myself in one of the fresh towels hanging on the rack. I walked into my bedroom without gathering my clothes off the bathroom floor. The bed was still tangled from my long hours of sleep. Holding the towel around me with one hand, I shook the sheets out and crawled underneath the covers. The darkness of the room lulled me to sleep once more.
* * *
THE COVERS MOVED so gently that I almost didn't notice. It was late afternoon and the low, orange sun burned around the edges of the pull down shade. Still heady with the daze of sleep, I waited for Ben to pull himself closer to me before acknowledging him.
"I wish I hadn't slept so long."
He placed a light kiss on the back of my neck. "It's fine. You obviously needed it."
I rolled over to face him, pressing my fingers gently against the place he had kissed. The last time we were in this bed seemed a hundred years ago. "What are we doing?" I whispered.
"I wish I knew," he replied, looking down at me. "I've never, well, I've never been through something quite like this before. How I feel–the feelings I have for you..."
"You have feelings for me?" I asked, grinning. Sleep had worn off and a gentle heat began spreading out from the center of my body. It crept over my stomach and my breasts, down between my legs and to the tips of my toes.
"Don't be coy," he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against mine. I welcomed it, feeling better than I had that morning. Readjusting my position, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
I waited for the feelings of dread to come, for those flashes of guilt that had overwhelmed me in his apartment that night. It had been a few weeks ago, but it had felt like years. As he played his fingers over my collarbone, dancing toward the towel that was the only barrier I could hide behind, I flushed again. His touch was like coming home.
His lips trailed behind his fingers and I drifted amid the feel of it. As I pressed myself against him, trying to make any space between us disappear, he wrapped his arms around my waist and the towel slipped away.
There was no rush this time, no fever pitch to pull us along. Ben trailed his fingers over my bare chest, tracing the curves and planes left unmarred. He leaned away, sliding off his shirt and pants before returning to me. I gasped at the temperature difference of his hot skin against me, shuddering as he touched his lips to mine. I marveled at the absence of pain, as if the bruises were gone, the cuts reduced to nothing, because his lips danced over my body. The whisper of his breath carried me away and, if even just for a short time, I was me again, free of the pain and trauma.
I knew with every inch of me that this was it; there would be no interruptions, no delays. Perfect.
Chapter 25
I SETTLED INTO one of the canvas patio chairs, my entire body still echoing with the slow ache of healing. Forty-eight hours of rest and pampering at the hands of Ben had done wonders, but I still had a long way to go. The afternoon sun was warm on my skin and a cool breeze slipped over me. Ben was gone for the day; he had returned to the city for a few meetings that couldn't be delayed any longer. Much to my surprise, I was enjoying the silence and alone time. I was used to being by myself, and the constant attention and hand wringing were wearing on me.
The last few days had been a balancing act between focusing on my own recovery and constant worry for both my grandfather and Laura. Nothing about my grandfather’s situation had changed. Each day, the nurses watched his vitals, kept him comfortable, and fed me updates over the phone. It had been significantly more difficult to find anything out about Laura. Harding had informed me in a few short texts that she was recovering, but wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened. I knew I had to trust him, but with each passing day I was growing more nervous at the lack of information. When Ben had told me he’d be gone, I’d made up my mind to relax. News would come when there was news to tell.
When my cell phone rang, nestled safely in the mesh cup holder a few inches from my hand, I almost jumped out of my skin. I recognized the number and hastily put the phone to my ear. The muscles in my arm protested.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Stuart?" An unknown female voice echoed on the line. Her crisp tone set me on edge.
"Yes?"
"This is Nurse Stevens, at Park Falls General. I'm calling to let you know that your grandfather has been taken into ICU. He's fallen unconscious and we've been unable to revive him."
"I'm on my way," I replied, already halfway to the backdoor. After pulling on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top from the dryer, I scrambled around my kitchen, trying to figure out if there was anything I needed to take along. Frustrated with my indecision, I grabbed my purse and bustled from the kitchen, ignoring the soreness in my muscles.
I was in the car and onto the main highway less than three minutes after I'd received the call from the hospital. As I sped toward the hospital, I wondered why Harding hadn't called me personally. When I came to a red light, I pulled my phone from my purse and opened a blank text, still frazzled.
On my way to the hospital, I texted. Are you there?
I dropped the phone onto the seat and moved through the green light. Panic and dread coursed through me.
There were three more lights before my turnoff for the hospital. Tension thrummed through me, highlighting the fact that I had not succeeded in pushing away the pain. I pulled my fingers through my hair, my mind coming up with a thousand other reasons for my grandfather's ICU transfer. I considered calling Harding, but realized I was being foolish. I needed to trust him; he would call as soon as he was able.
As I pulled up to the second traffic light, I grabbed the phone again, this time sending a text message to Laura:
-Papa is being moved to ICU. On the way now.
My hands shook as I gripped the steering wheel.
It came as no surprise that I was stopped at the third light as well. I began tapping my fingers again as I checked my mirrors. The highway had been practically empty, but another vehicle had appeared. A large, black pickup was barreling down on me and I rolled my eyes. Speed demons. The high school students were still on summer vacation, and they were growing restless as the hot, muggy days stretched on. I watched them approaching in the mirror, turning away to check the traffic light.
Feeling the ever-present need to do something, I turned to my phone once more. Looking down, I pulled up Ben's number and hit send.
When I turned my gaze back to the truck, I gasped when I realized how close it was. They weren't slowing at all. I braced without thought, straining my shoulders back into the seat and clutching the steering wheel, but the effort didn't prevent me from hitting the airbag.
Hard.
Chapter 26
"...BEEN ANY WORD...?"
"–about thirty minutes..."
"...too long–"
"...bring more."
* * *
"...TO MOVE."
"...happening?"
"Bring her..."
* * *
"AGAIN?"
"...orders...no choice..."
"–dangerous...warned him."
"...more?"
Chapter 27
MY LIMBS FELT heavy, like I was swimming fully clothed. I fought to keep my eyes closed, though I wasn't sure why. Through the haze of my consciousness, I grasped at random ideas, wisps of fully formed thoughts. I struggled to retain control of myself as my body awakened.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to ignore it, and tried to get a better handle on what was going on. My hands and ankles were bound, with the added bonus of being pulled behind my back. Something soft was pulled over my mouth and nose and I was lying on my side on a very hard floor.
I waited, aching as pain began to seep through me. I felt all the scrapes, bruises and raw skin...awaken. The familiar twinges from the alleyway were there, and as my brain shook off the daze, I catalogued the new ones. Nothing seemed broken, but there was new stiffness in my back and neck and it felt like at least one of my ankles and a wrist were sprained. The fog lifted after several minutes, and I fought the urge to cry out. I needed an outlet for the pain that enveloped my body.
A voice drifted toward me, a woman, young. "I'm not sure why we're still waiting."
"The longer we wait, the more dangerous this is. Surely, by now..." a male voice trailed off.
"This was a mistake." The woman again.
"Both of you need to shut up. You can't possibly think you know all the details. He'll let us know when our plans change." This was another male voice, sounding older than the first. His voice dripped with presumed authority.
"Oh, I'm sure he let you in on all the secrets, James."
"Stop! No names!"
"Oh, like any of us use our real names anyway," said the woman again, her voice more familiar by the minute.
"What are you talking about?" asked the older man.
"I always figured everyone was too careful to use their real names. I know I am."
"You both need to shut up. Check her, make sure she's–just check her."
I willed myself to keep still as the female moved toward me. Even a quick peek could be dangerous.
Whatever her definition of checking me over was, she did it quickly. Her smooth fingers brushed my arm as she checked the bonds, but made no other contact. I assumed I passed inspection when she retreated back to her companions. The break seemed to remove the need for further conversation. I took the chance to listen to the room around me, trying to get a handle on where I was without opening my eyes. The floor felt like concrete and there were no sounds to be heard now that my guards had quieted. Not so much as the ticking of a clock or the thrum of traffic interrupted the silence.
As I strained to hear anything else, a heavy metal door opened and footsteps echoed in the room. I held still as my captors moved about, talking occasionally, but without giving any further information. A great deal of shuffling and movement swelled when the door had opened and as the new visitor cleared his throat, it ceased.
"Is she awake yet?"
"Yes."
I sighed, wondering how long they had known.
"Ms. Stuart?"
I opened my eyes and gasped when I recognized the face and voice of Nathan Carter. I regretted it immediately. Pain flared across my forehead as yellow exploded across my vision. The auras were so bad, Carter looked as if he glowed. I squinted, willing my vision to settle down, and both the pain and auras dimmed a bit.
"Ah, forgive me." Carter leaned forward and removed the gag. "I realize this is an extremely uncomfortable situation for you."
"Carter? What's going on?" I asked, my voice scratchy.
Mia and Sam were seated at the table, dressed almost identically and wearing similar, vacant expressions on their faces while Father McCullough hovered nearby. Carter was a few feet from me, practically glowing with some unspoken excitement over what was going on. The look of his face shook me to my core. It wasn't the guise of some nerdy, internet-addicted conspiracy theorist. It was the face of a man who seemed to know exactly what he was doing and why. Every misgiving I'd had about him solidified in my chest. To see his accomplices seated all around me, however, rocked me. Every last one of them had seemed honest and true to their cause. They were scared by what they thought they knew, but for the life of me, I didn't understand how kidnapping fit in with their conspiracy theories.
I now had a label for what was happening and I hoped that Harding, wherever he was, could feel every last bolt of panic coursing through me.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Ms. Stuart," Carter said, his voice low and even. He was stood over me, his face drawn. "You've managed to end up in the middle of a fairly complicated situation and I've had to use you as leverage."
"I have no idea what you’re talking about." Careful, controlled statements. I knew that was the only way I could ever gain the upper hand, if there was one to be gained. I wondered at all that had passed: how much of this was Carter's doing? Had some of his cronies caused the accident? Had it been Mia on the phone? Was my grandfather even in the hospital? Anger and fear warred in my head as I stared at Carter. I had questions and if I could get him talking, maybe I'd find answers.
"I'm not sure how else I can put this to you." He turned away from me and I took the opportunity to push myself into a sitting position, leaning against the concrete wall behind me. I held my face still, determined not to let anyone know what pain I felt. I didn't hold many cards and giving away the extent of my injuries seemed too high a cost. Mia and Sam watched my movements carefully, their bodies tense as I shifted around.
