by Amity Cross
“Cancelled.” I shrugged.
“Cancelled? Why?”
“Do you really want me to rattle off the laundry list of reasons?”
She sighed and nestled back against the mountain of pillows propped behind her. “I guess not.” Her gaze returned to mine. “It’s not because of me, is it?”
“You’re more important than any fucking tour,” I said, my irritability on the matter rising again.
“Sebastian, this is your career we’re talking about.”
“Like I said, you’re more important than work.”
“It’s not work. You love your music. It’s—”
“Nothing is more important to me than you,” I said firmly. “Juniper, you almost died. Fuck the tour. Besides, we have no manager, we’ve got a potential trial looming, and the drama with that alone is off the charts. The best thing to do is take a hiatus and revisit the idea in a few months.”
“But the ticket sales, the fans…”
I rolled my eyes. “If the fans get pissed because we had to cancel because of all this,” I gestured to the hospital room around us, “then they’re not true fucking fans.”
Her brow furrowed.
“I’m thinking about selling the McMansion,” I blurted, desperate to change the subject before it turned into an argument.
“Why?”
“It wasn’t ever really home and…” I trailed off, not knowing how to talk about the attack without it upsetting her. She hadn’t talked about it since she’d woken up, always skirting around saying anything particular about the moment she’d seen her stalker standing in the kitchen.
“Where would you go?”
“We,” I corrected. “Where would we go?”
Her sigh grated against my heart, but I knew she was tired. Dr. Lindsey said it’d take some time for her to feel normal again.
I filled the silence for her. “I don’t even know why we decided to base ourselves out of Sydney when none of us are from here.” I leaned back in the chair. “Maybe we could go back to Melbourne? You’d be closer to Vanessa and Ziggy. Besides, my car is still in storage down there.” My beautiful black and silver vintage muscle car that was gathering dust in a dark garage.
“Oh no, not the car,” Juniper drawled, her grin giving her away.
“Stop taking the piss,” I grumbled. “You’ve seen the car. It’s a thing of beauty.”
“You’d go back to Melbourne?” she asked. “You could live anywhere in the world.”
“We,” I said again. “Juniper, I think you’re missing the point.”
“What point?”
“I love you. I want to go wherever you are.”
Her eyes widened as if she’d forgotten everything we’d ever shared; it was like I’d just told her how I felt for the first time.
“Where do you want to go?” I asked.
Her breath caught.
“Juniper… We can do whatever we want.” I took her hand in mine and raised it to my mouth. Brushing my lips across her knuckles, I relished the electricity that surged through me. “The last ten years, my life has been about making the fans happy. Before that, it was about looking after my mum. And even before that, it was about protecting my mum from my dad. And for you, it was about the Page Break and looking after your mum. When was it ever just about what we wanted? We’ve always been looking after someone else. Now we have a chance to make it about us.”
Her eyes widened, and she drew in a shaky breath.
“We can go anywhere,” I added. “Anywhere.”
“What about the band?” she whispered. “Are you saying… Do you want to leave Beneath?”
“I don’t know what I want to do,” I murmured, studying her hand.
“But Beneath… You fought so hard to protect the band from Vix.”
“Too much has happened, I…” My throat tightened. “We’ve never had a break. We’ve always toured or been recording. Maybe things will be better in a few months.”
Her grip tightened around mine. “Just don’t make any rash decisions because of me, okay?”
“I won’t.”
A knock at the door broke us apart. Statfield was lingering, his gaze troubled.
“Mr. Hale, Miss Rowe. Detective Halliday is here.”
I looked at Juniper. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
She swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably. “I have to give my statement eventually. It may as well be now.”
“Okay, then.” I nodded at Statfield. “Tell him to come in.”
The air shifted when the detective walked into the room—it felt heavier somehow, like all the stress I was feeling was amplified and broadcasted like a beacon. Maybe it was just the anticipation of what was coming that I was picking up on.
Halliday was wearing a dark-coloured suit with a blue shirt, and black and silver tie, his detective’s badge pinned to his belt. His jacket was slung over his arm, giving away that the heat was dialled up all the way outside.
“Miss Rowe,” he said, sitting in the vacant chair beside the bed. “I’d like to say it’s good to see you again, but I apologise for the circumstances.”
“Me too,” was her wry responce, “but it isn’t your fault.”
“I’m going to record our interview, is that okay with you?”
She nodded, and I shifted in my chair, remembering how uncomfortable I’d felt when I gave my statement.
Halliday set a digital recorder on the table and pressed record. He rattled off the time and date, and a few other necessities like the case name and number before asking Juniper to state her full name.
I sat back, a silent witness as he asked her about the events leading up to the attack.
She told him about the night when the package had turned up at the LA hotel. Then about how she’d seen someone linger in the garden at the McMansion. And the car she’d thought was following them the day she and Harry had gone to see Annalise.
“That night,” she went on, “Christmas eve… We were standing in the kitchen and I—”
“Who was we?” Halliday prodded. “Be as specific as you can.”
“Sebastian and I were standing in the kitchen talking. We were looking out the windows at the guys on the deck—Damon, Josh, Nate, and Harry. I don’t know where Statfield or the other security guards were. After Vix was arrested that afternoon, Sebastian and I were talking about our future. We were finally free to think about making a life together without someone trying to tear it apart, you know? That’s when I saw a reflection of someone standing behind us. At first…” she trailed off and glanced at me.
“It’s okay,” I murmured.
“At first… I thought it was Statfield or Farmer,” she continued. “But when I turned, I saw her and the gun.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?” Halliday asked.
“It all happened so fast,” she replied. “I— She was about my height, long mousey blonde hair that looked stringy. Either it was fine, or she hadn’t washed it in a long time, I don’t know. Her clothes were dark, and she wore an oversized top. She was angry and the gun… it shook in her hand.”
“What happened then?”
“When I saw her,” Juniper began uneasily, “I knew why she was after me without her saying anything. She thought I’d stolen something from her. She said, it was supposed to be me.” She shook her head. “I pulled Sebastian out of the way just as she fired. I remember falling… then nothing. Darkness. Then I woke up here in the hospital.”
“How did you feel when you woke?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” I demanded, not liking the distress Juniper was staring to show.
“The more details we have, the better case we can build,” Halliday explained. “Juniper, if you don’t want to answer, that’s okay, but if you can—”
“Like shit,” she declared. “I felt like shit. I had brain surgery and I got shot in the stomach. I couldn’t stay awake for longer than five minutes for a week after I was brought ou
t of that coma. I had awful dreams and the pain…” A scowl cut her words from her lips. .
“Was she working alone?” I demanded.
“Yes.” Halliday glanced at Juniper before turning to me. “There wasn’t anything to lead us to suspect she had an accomplice. Perpetrators in cases like these usually act on their own.” He turned off the digital recorder and slipped it into his pocket. “Thank you, Miss Rowe. I know it was difficult, but your evidence will go a long way.”
“I’ll see you out,” I rose to my feet. To Juniper, I added, “I’ll be right back, okay?”
She nodded and clutched the book again, her gaze turning to the windows.
I led Halliday out into the ward and down the hall past the bustling nurse’s station. Once we were out of earshot, he said, “Her apartment was a virtual shrine to you. Pictures, CDs, merchandise… and other paraphernalia.”
“She’ll plead insanity,” I said, suppressing a shudder. “Then what?”
“It’s likely she’ll be held in a psychiatric facility.”
“Even after she killed our baby?” I demanded.
“The judge will take that into consideration. Until then, I can only speculate.” Halliday frowned and clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, Mr. Hale.”
“That’s it?”
“For now. If there’s any more developments, or if the case is slated to go to trial, we’ll be in touch with your legal representation. I highly doubt it will, though.”
“Do I have anything to worry about security wise?”
“She was denied bail,” Halliday reassured me. “She won’t pose a threat to you or Miss Rowe. We’re pushing for a conviction, but either way…” He shrugged. “I don’t like putting people into psychiatric facilities, but in this case, it’s what’s best for the woman.”
I nodded, having nothing else to say on the matter. I was exhausted and pulled at from all angles.
“Thank you, Detective.”
Halliday gave me a half-smile and I shook his hand. “Until next time.”
“No offence, but I hope not.”
He let out a gruff laugh, then strode down the hall, leaving me only with the burden of my thoughts.
8
Juniper
Exactly a month after Christmas, I was finally allowed to go home.
It wasn’t without fanfare, though. We were hounded at the hospital and had to take a back entrance to get out unseen, then when we got back to the McMansion, more press and paparazzi were waiting outside the gates. No doubt they were hanging out on the water too, waiting for the perfect picture to put with their constant stream of articles.
Vanessa was strangely obsessed with the circus element of it all and asked a million questions about the legalities and finally, grumbled that Ziggy was more popular than she was. The week before, Ziggy had been papped when Farmer had taken him for a walk around the neighbourhood—talk about a popular little pooch.
Going home after a month was an extraordinary feat considering the wounds I’d received. Dr. Lindsey had given me orders to stay as rested as possible for the next two weeks until I came back for follow-up scans. I had a fifteen centimetre cut that went from my abdomen and hooked around my belly button, and a hole in my left side, beside my breast, where a tube had been shoved into my chest in the ER. Then there was the matching slice on my skull. Those kinds of cuts took time to heal.
I wasn’t complaining; I didn’t have the energy to walk very far yet.
Sebastian helped me out of the car as Statfield and the driver made sure the garage was secure. Vanessa slid out behind us, carrying a bunch of foil balloons with ‘get well soon’ messages printed on them.
“I want to have a long, hot bath with lots of bubbles,” I said as we made our way into the house from the garage. “I just want to soak.”
“That can be arranged,” Sebastian said with a smirk. “Can I come?”
“What about the bandage on your stomach?” Vanessa asked with a tsk.
“I’ve got a waterproof sticky thing to put on it,” I replied, waving my hand at her. “I made it a point to ask. You know I love having baths.”
“Typical,” she replied. “For someone who likes to wrinkle in a tub for as long as you do, I never got why you never liked swimming in the ocean.”
“But you grew up by the beach,” Sebastian said, looking aghast as he opened the door to the house. “And you never liked to swim?”
I shook my head. “Nah. You never know what else is out there with you, lurking underneath the waves. In a bath, there’s zero mystery.”
The familiar scent of the McMansion washed over me, and it was comforting compared to the lemon and antiseptic of the hospital, but it was also a trigger.
I stopped in the doorway, completely frozen. How was I meant to walk into the house where I’d been shot? I was crazy for coming back here, but where else could I go? Nowhere was safe, not really.
“Juniper?” Sebastian turned and when he saw me standing there on the threshold, he frowned.
I loved Sebastian and this was his home—even though he’d admitted he never felt that way here. Maybe I should talk to him about moving again. He was the one who’d brought it up after all. We can go anywhere.
“No one’s getting through the wall of media outside,” Vanessa said, sensing my anxiety. “Let alone past Statfield and Farmer. Oh, and Ziggy.”
I crumpled against the doorframe at the mention of the little Jack Russell. “I know,” I said. “It’s just the memory. I didn’t think…”
“It’s okay,” Sebastian murmured. “Take your time.”
The sound of claws scraping on the floor and the jingle of a dog collar echoed from within the house and Ziggy appeared from the depths, hurtling towards us like a streak of black and white lightning. He let out an excited squeal when he saw us and began leaping up into the air.
Ziggy to the rescue.
Farmer was chasing after him and when he turned into the hall, he skidded to a stop.
“Sorry,” he said. “He heard your voices and was off like a rocket.”
“Ziggy, sit,” Vanessa commanded. “Be careful with your aunt Juni, okay?”
The little dog sat on his arse and stared up at me, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and his tale thumping on the parquetry floor.
“Hey,” I said to him. “I’d bend over and give you a pat, but I’m kinda sore, buddy.”
“Is everything okay?” Farmer asked, looking between us. When he laid eyes on me, he swallowed hard.
I must be a sight with my half shaved hair that followed the curve of the gnarly incision on my skull. I knew the line was red and puckered with little dots where the staples had been placed, because I’d checked it every morning in the mirror in hopes it was fading, but no luck yet. I’d be stuck with that scar for the rest of my life, not to mention the one on my stomach.
“It’s fine,” Sebastian replied.
It wasn’t, but I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t the place that was the problem, but the person who’d done this to me. I had to go inside or forever live with my fear. She was locked up. She was locked up, and they weren’t letting her out. She was getting the help she needed someplace far away.
Ziggy seemed to sense something was going on, and he lifted his paw and tapped me on the leg.
“I’m going to have a bath,” I said to him. “Wanna come?”
He was a smart dog. When he heard the word ‘bath’ he took off into the house at a sprint, almost losing traction as he tore around the corner.
Sebastian laughed and held up his hand towards me. “He knows what’s good for him.”
“I’ll go get him,” Farmer said backing away.
“I’ll help you,” Vanessa declared a little too loudly. She wanted to give me my privacy to get over the hurdle of walking into the McMansion and for that, I was grateful. She passed us, the balloons bumping against the wall as she passed.
“Upstairs?” Sebastian asked.
When I’d been moved out of the ICU and into a ward, the hospital had been so noisy. People were always coming and going, codes were called, doctors were paged, nurses were always coming to check on stats and update charts, or it was time for medication or bandage changes, and the tea cart seemed to come every five minutes. For a solitary person like me, it was more exhausting than recovering from my marathon operation.
The stairs felt like a mountain as we went upstairs, and thankfully, we didn’t have to go past the kitchen. Standing in the presence of the place where I’d been attacked was a battle for another time.
I sat on the bench by the windows as Sebastian drew me a bath, dropping in some sweet-smelling soap into the water to make it bubble. The faint scent of coconut and vanilla filled my nose and I sighed—it was much better than lemon antiseptic.
When I finally stripped and sank into the water, I let out a sigh of contentment. The bandage seemed to keep my scar dry and I felt a tingling sensation as the warmth spread through my body.
Sebastian sat on a stool—some arty lump of wood that matched the interior styling—content to linger while I soaked. He’d hardly left my side throughout the whole ordeal and I loved him for it. I just… I loved him so much it hurt sometimes. I’d never thought I’d find anyone, let alone someone like him.
“You haven’t said much about what happened,” he said, swirling his hand through the bubbles.
“There isn’t anything to say that hasn’t already been said.”
“When I told you about the baby, you seemed to close off,” he began uncertainly.
I shrugged. I’d hoped he’d never bring it up again, but that was wishful thinking on my part. Losing a baby was a big deal, but… talking about it was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d just gotten out of the hospital; did he really think now was the time for deep and meaningful conversations?
“We can still have kids,” he added. “Dr. Lindsey said it was fine.”
How was I meant to tell him I didn’t want any? Maybe it was selfish, or maybe I just didn’t have a maternal bone in my body, but I’d never felt a hint of want. Sebastian seemed more distraught over it than I was, and I clamped my mouth shut before I hurt his heart.