I gasped, crashing fully awake, wishing I could reverse the process and fall back into the numbing blackness once again.
The heart-rate monitor attached to my chest beeped as my pulse increased. A door opened and closed, delivering a middle-age female with brown hair and silver-framed glasses to my bedside. Her blue slacks were covered with a white coat and the pink sneakers she wore squeaked a little on the linoleum. “You’re awake.”
Turning a few dials on the machine beside me, she stayed busy for a moment, administering something with a push of a button. “I’ve just given you another dose of morphine. It will take the edge off.”
I didn’t have chance to thank her before the door opened and another visitor arrived. Not a white coat of medical personal but a stern uniform with important buttons and emblems.
Police.
He marched to the bottom of my bed, his arms crossed and face cold. “You’re under arrest, Gilbert Clark, for the murder of Jeffrey Clark and accessory before the fact in four other cases.”
I winced as a flare of heat lashed around my back.
So this was what it felt like to finally be held accountable for your crimes.
His chin arched, delivering the rest of my fate. “While in the care of Birmingham Medical, you are not to leave this room under any circumstance. You are allowed an attorney and have the right to remain silent—”
“Can’t that spiel wait?” The female doctor scowled. “He’s just woken up from surgery. He won’t be walking anywhere.”
I swallowed again against the wildfire in my throat. I didn’t care about me. I was irrelevant. “My daughter. Where’s Olive?”
The doctor patted my hand, careful not to bump the IV line disappearing into my vein. “Your daughter is fine. She was kept overnight for observation. You can see her later.”
“No visitors.” The cop frowned.
“He can see his daughter, for crying out loud. She’s screaming blue murder to make sure he’s okay. If you won’t let him see her for his sake, then do it for the child’s. She’s been through enough.”
I didn’t know who this woman was, but I liked her immensely.
A flood of gratefulness and fresh agony gushed through me. “Is...is Olin Moss okay?”
The woman nodded. “Fine. Both are fine.”
I had so many questions, but they scattered the moment I tried to move and my side felt like hungry wolves shredding my innards. “Holy—”
“Ah, yes. Don’t move if you don’t have to.” She lowered her voice, shooting a look at the lurking cop before focusing on me. “You sustained a gunshot wound to the back. The bullet didn’t cause excessive damage, going in clean and causing a large but manageable puncture wound upon exit. The good news is, it didn’t hit anything vital. Far enough away from your organs to go clean through you.”
I blinked. “I bled a lot.”
“You did. You needed a transfusion.” Turning to the cop, she snipped. “Can my patient have some privacy please?”
His eyes narrowed. “He’s under arrest. He doesn’t get privacy.”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“He’s guilty of murder.”
I flinched.
Before, I’d been willing to pay the price, but now sick worry filled me.
Will they take Olive away?
How could I be such a fucking idiot not to think of that?
Fear landed like a landslide on my chest.
I’d only just gotten her back.
I wouldn’t survive losing her again.
Losing Olin again.
You lost O a long time ago.
The doctor’s tone softened as she did her best to ignore the unwanted visitor in the room. “Do you remember arriving in the emergency room? We did a CT scan before surgery to ensure there were no internal injuries.”
I frowned. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s okay.” She smiled. “The complicated jargon can wait. For now, the abbreviated version is, you’ll live. You’ve been stitched up and responded well to treatment. You’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a few days, but then it will ease, and healing will accelerate.”
Days?
I didn’t want to be in here for days.
I wanted to be with Olive.
I needed to talk to O.
You leave this bed, and you’re in prison.
Either way, I would be kept away from the people I needed the most.
Shit.
A lash of agony ripped up my back. I sucked in a breath, shifting on the bed.
“We’ll leave you to rest.” The doctor patted my hand again. “Sleep. Heal. I’ll answer any questions you may have when you’re a little more comfortable.”
I resisted the urge to capture her wrist, asking, “Can I see my daughter?” I needed to see her with my own eyes. To touch her. Kiss her. To never let her go again.
“Soon.” She backed away from the bed, eyeballing the cop to leave too. “Rest first. I’ll bring her to you in a bit.”
I wanted to argue, but sudden tiredness hung off my eyelashes, dragging them down. I felt cold and strange—as if the foreign blood in my veins poisoned me from the inside out.
I couldn’t fight the sinking.
I lost the fight.
I slept.
* * * * *
“No! I want to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay. Daddy! Dad! Popeye!”
My eyes wrenched open, my heart galloping at the sound of Olive’s shout. Jack-knifing upright, I forgot too late about my stitched together side.
I groaned in pain as I lay back down, a prickle of sweat breaking out all over me.
The heart-rate monitor went berserk, and the sounds of angry officers threaded with the melodic calm of O’s gentle tone. I couldn’t hear what she said, but after a minute of whispered argument, the door cracked open and Olive bowled inside.
“Dad!”
I braced myself for her hug. Ready to hide my agony from her at all costs. My arms spread as she launched against the bed, her face landing on my stomach and arms around my hips. “You’re alive!”
It fucking hurt.
Everything fucking hurt.
My body screamed to push her away, but my heart would never do such a thing. My heart hurt worse than any physical form.
I’d failed this perfect creature.
I could never fix what’d happened.
I clutched her so damn close, suffocating her into me. I stroked her soft, silky hair, squeezing my eyes from suspicious, stupid tears.
The luxury of touching her.
The privilege of having her back in my embrace.
Fuck.
I didn’t care I was bankrupt, full of holes, and other people’s blood.
I didn’t even care I wasn’t a free man anymore.
All that mattered was Olive was safe.
Finally.
Swallowing back heavy gratitude, I pulled her away so I could see her pretty face. “Hey, Olive Oyl. You okay?” Nudging her chin up, I smiled as her huge, gorgeous grey eyes met mine. I’d long ago stopped comparing her eyes to her mother’s. In Jane Tallup, the grey had been evil and flat. In Olive, the colour was pure and wholesome. I loved the soft shade. I loved how serene and endless they were.
The greyness suddenly glossed with tears. Her mouth wobbled, and she pressed her cheek into my palm as I raised my hand to touch her. “You were lying in the forest. Not moving.”
“I know. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I wanted to come back to get you. But Uncle Jeffrey wouldn’t let me.”
“It’s not your fault, little spinach. None of this is your fault.”
She bit her lip, doing her best to stem her sadness. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you more.”
She threw herself onto me again. Her face pressing into the blankets covering my wounded side. I hid my pain, wrapping my arm around her fragile back.
I didn’t think about the future.
I didn’t worry about how much time I had with her.
I just closed my eyes and hugged my daughter.
Chapter Ten
______________________________
Olin
STARING AT MYSELF in the hospital bathroom mirror, I did my best to clutch to the resolve I’d made last night. The oath I had no choice but to follow.
I didn’t like hospitals—they reminded me too much of what I’d lost after my accident. I hadn’t wanted to come back.
But I had to see Gil.
To convince myself he would be okay...before I left.
You know what you promised, O.
I pointed a finger in my face, waggling it at my reflection.
Stand by it.
I nodded.
Today, my skin was its normal colour. My hair clean and brushed. My pink jumper and tight jeans my only decoration. I was just a simple girl visiting an old friend from school.
Yesterday had been a different matter.
I’d showered at the hospital so they could apply creams to my rope-burned wrists and ankles and check me over. They’d given me a hospital gown to dress into and guided me to a room to wash. I’d closed the door on the nurse helping me and seen my painted flesh for the first time.
I hadn’t known what Gil had painted me with.
But there, standing under the bright neon, I found out.
Olives.
Thousands and thousands of olives.
He’d cried while forcing me to eat a sandwich laced with sleeping tablets. He’d apologised while he’d carried me deep into the forest. And he’d painted me in the namesake of the only girl who would ever own his heart.
That had been the moment.
The moment.
Where all my misery and patience just...stopped.
It was like a switch flicked from forgiving to done.
Gilbert Clark had been through a lot. He’d dealt with things no one should have to deal with. He’d never had anyone to rely on and kept far too much sorrow to himself. He’d pushed me away out of some broken chivalry to protect me.
And by trying to protect me, he’d forced me to face his demons and risk being sold by his uncle.
I’d believed I could save him with kindness. I’d hoped compassion could set him free.
It’s time to stop being so idealistic and blind.
He’d broken my trust while painting me that night.
He’d saved my life by killing Jeffrey before collapsing at my feet.
The wrongdoing he’d done by sacrificing me was paid in full by stopping a terrible fate. I could forgive him for what he’d done. I forgave him for everything he’d put me through.
But...that was where my tolerance ended.
He might have had a rough upbringing and allowed society to carve him into something he wasn’t, but I’d had my own share of nightmares.
I’d coped with a lonely childhood, a life-changing accident, and loving a boy who would always grant more pain than happiness. I’d endured trials and sacrifices and managed to retain the goodness that I valued over anything.
That was where we differed.
I fought for what hid beneath the lies.
Gil pushed away what was in front of him.
And...it was over.
I would be nice and gentle. I would be his friend.
But I would also pick me from now on because I’d given him everything I had.
I’m leaving.
Starting afresh.
I had to.
As I’d stepped into the shower, a calm sense of relief filled me. Relief to finally have a decision that felt binding. I would always be Gil’s friend. I would answer his calls and accept his messages if he wanted to stay in touch, but that was where my loyalty had to end. Where I had to choose not to be the tragic wallflower, wilting in a sad little vase, waiting for him to choose me.
He could never choose me because he’d chosen Olive.
As it should be.
That night, I’d done my best to sleep in an uncomfortable hospital bed, tossing and turning, knowing Gil was in surgery and his daughter was in the care of strangers.
I’d been released in the morning and gone home to my apartment.
Everything had felt in a different dimension. A strange new planet.
My key still fit in my lock. My kitchen still held my dishes. My bed still smelled of me. But none of it seemed real anymore. I’d distanced myself from it and needed to leave.
To leave and start again...for me.
Shannon had called from Status Enterprises, and I’d apologised yet again for not turning up for work. She assured me it was fine. She’d heard the news about what’d happened. That the company would give me two weeks fully paid to recover before returning.
I hadn’t had the heart to tell her I no longer wanted to live in my home city.
I didn’t have the courage to go online and read the news articles about what’d happened.
Instead, I dressed and ate a muesli bar before catching public transport back to the hospital.
To say goodbye.
My hand dropped. My reflection showed a girl far older than she was. Dark circles painted under my eyes; my lips permanently sad.
I didn’t want to be that girl anymore.
I wanted more.
I deserved more.
You deserve to be happy.
I nodded at the mirror, brushed a few stray hairs from my forehead, and left the bathroom.
* * * * *
I stood outside Gil’s room, listening to the low rumble of his voice and the high-pitched tone of Olive’s. The two cops guarding his door stared at me with annoyance. Pissed off that I’d stood up to them when they’d tried to deny Olive from seeing her dad.
It’d been serendipitous timing.
I’d arrived at the barricaded room just as Olive came flying down the corridor, no longer willing to wait for a nurse to take her to her father.
I’d argued on her behalf.
I’d won her entry.
And now, I wanted to give them time to say hello, before I said goodbye.
Focusing on the older cop with his handlebar moustache, I asked, “Why are you guarding Gil’s door?”
His eyebrows drew together. “He’s a prisoner.”
My heart kicked, not wanting to accept that Gil’s problems weren’t over. “For what?”
“For killing Jeffrey Clark.”
I scowled. “But Jeffrey kidnapped us and murdered at least four women. He took me and would’ve raped and killed me if Gil hadn’t—”
“Murder is murder, miss.” He crossed his arms. “And Gilbert Clark was involved.”
My temper rose. “He didn’t kill those girls.”
“He was an accessory. Caught with his hands dirty.”
I gritted my teeth, unwilling to argue the painted murders but needing to justify Jeffrey’s. “Did you not hear me? Jeffrey Clark was seconds away from raping me. Gil killed him in my defense. He killed him because he kept his daughter for over a year. He was justified.”
The cop didn’t react.
It wasn’t fair.
Gil had done many wrong things, but killing his uncle was not one of them. I still didn’t understand if they were related or if it was just a term of speech, but his death was the only good thing to come out of all of this.
Footsteps sounded on the bleached linoleum. Wrenching my head up, I expected to see a doctor. Instead, the air in my lungs vanished as Justin spotted me and increased his speed until his arms wrapped tight around me. “O. Thank God, you’re okay.”
I squeezed him back, drinking in the familiarity, no longer cringing against it. “Thanks to you.”
He pulled away, shaking his head. “Thanks to Gil.” He glanced at the cops watching us closely and cupped my elbow to guide me away. Keeping his voice low, he said, “He told me he’s involved in the painted murders. Is that why the police are outside his room?”
My heart turned to stone. �
��He told you that? How...how is he involved?”
He painted them...didn’t he?
He painted them for his uncle.
He has their blood on his hands.
I didn’t want to believe it, but the thought had been growing ever since I’d seen my photo wedged in his door.
He frowned. “He said....you know what? It doesn’t matter. We’ll talk about it later.” His gaze flashed with pain. “I need to see the bastard. To see with my own eyes he’s still alive. That text he sent sounded too full of death for my liking.”
I arched my chin back at the two police. “We can ask to see him, but I’m not holding my breath. They barely let Olive in.”
“Olive...his daughter?”
I nodded.
“Did you know he had a daughter?”
“Not until recently.”
“Who’s the mother?”
Looking away, I whispered, “You’ll have to ask him that.”
“Fine. I will.” Straightening his spine, he took my hand and led me back to the law enforcers. “We want to see our friend.”
The guy shook his head. “No visitors.”
“He has his daughter in there right now.”
The younger cop with his sleek dark hair glowered at me. “Only because someone wouldn’t accept no for an answer.”
Justin narrowed his gaze. “Just like I won’t accept no for an answer.” He sighed. “Look, the bloke isn’t going anywhere. He’s in a hospital, for God’s sake.”
The older cop sighed, his resolve weakening.
I jumped in. “Please let us in. I’m leaving and want to say goodbye before I do.”
Justin froze beside me, blue eyes trapping mine. “What? You’re leaving? Since when?”
I shrugged. “Since I decided.”
“Because of Gil?”
“Because of me.” I didn’t want to discuss this in front of uniforms. Smiling at the older officer, I did my best to appease him. “We’ll only be fifteen minutes. I just really need to say goodbye before...”
His hand rested on his baton before he sighed again, heavy and annoyed. “Fine. Fifteen minutes. But no longer.” Turning the doorknob, he opened it enough for me to slip through.
The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3) Page 51