by A. C. Arthur
Chapter 21
At the Big House Janean and Regan had gone into the kitchen to get coffee. Bruce, Savian, Adam, Trent and Sean sat in the living room. Dion paced, looking at his watch every few minutes and checking his cell phone just as frequently.
He’d called Lyra more than a dozen times but hadn’t received an answer. To say he was worried was an understatement. But he couldn’t go to her now. The family needed to discuss what had happened at the ball after Lyra left and how they were going to conduct damage control.
“They’re both being booked for attempted murder and aggravated assault. Katrina’s facing an added fraud charge for two Miami men that she swindled out of money. The ninety-year-old tycoon in L.A. and the businessman in Vegas will have to wait until she can be extradited to get their revenge,” Trent filled them in. “Hopefully, she won’t be out for a while.”
“Does she have enough to make bail?” Savian asked from his spot on the couch.
Trent shook his head. “I checked her accounts a week ago, she’s pretty low on funds.”
“That explains why she was so desperate to hook Dion,” Sean said.
Adam nodded in agreement. “And that’s why she messed up. Greed was distorting her mind.”
“And Stanford?” Bruce asked. “What was distorting his mind?”
“Jealousy,” Dion added without a second thought. “He’d warned me to stay away from Lyra.”
“And you didn’t listen,” Savian said with a dry chuckle.
“You know me better than that” was Dion’s reply.
“They both should have known this family better.” Bruce finished off his drink and put his glass on the end table with a loud clank. “I want these two buried beneath the jail and I want a formal statement made to the press tomorrow about the arrest made at the ball.”
“And what about the other incident?” Savian asked. He’d removed his bow tie and unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt. All their jackets had been thrown on the backs of the chairs as they came into the house.
“I can’t believe they pulled Paula Anderson into their sordid games,” Sean spoke up, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “It’s a good thing Lyra was there to hustle her out of there.”
“Not good,” Bruce chafed. “I wish that woman would just go somewhere and leave Lyra alone.”
“I second that” was Savian’s reply.
Adam, who had been quiet for the bulk of the conversation, stood, slipping his hands into his pockets. “But they tried to kill her. I don’t really see how that was going to help either of them.”
“With Paula out of the picture, Stanford would have Lyra to himself. There’s only one other thing besides her work that Lyra cares about and that’s her mother,” Dion said.
“No, son. I don’t think that’s true,” Bruce told Dion directly. “She cares about you. Stanford’s known that for quite some time, so hooking up with Katrina would serve his purpose in getting you out of Lyra’s life, as well.”
“He’s right,” Trent said. “They were both banking on Paula’s death to bring them what they wanted.”
The room went quiet momentarily, then the loud crashing of glass hitting the hardwood floor brought them all to their feet. They rushed into the kitchen to find Janean holding the phone in one hand, her head falling back and a gut-wrenching scream escaping her throat. Regan was at her side.
“Aunt Janean, what did they say? What happened?” Regan was asking.
“Janean, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked, going to stand beside his wife.
“She’s dead,” Janean said before falling to her knees and screaming even louder. “The car crashed and she’s dead.”
Her words echoed throughout the room and then there was a hushed whisper. “Who?” Dion asked with a lump already forming in his throat.
Janean looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. She never said the name, but she didn’t have to.
Dion was out of the kitchen, pulling the front door open and storming out in seconds. Sean and Savian were right behind him.
“Wait, Dion! You don’t even know where to go,” Sean said, catching up to his brother and grabbing his arm.
“I’m going to her now, Sean! Don’t try to stop me,” he said, pulling out of his brother’s grasp.
“Not going to stop you, man. Just hold up and let me drive.”
Dion didn’t argue but climbed into the passenger side of Sean’s SUV, his heart pounding and tears stinging his eyes.
* * *
The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever. In the car, news of the accident was already hitting the airwaves. “One fatality is reported” was the only part of the announcement Dion kept replaying. Laying his head back on the headrest, he tried to keep his breathing steady, his nerves in check. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.
As soon as Sean pulled into the parking lot of the emergency room entrance, Dion leaped out of the vehicle and ran toward the doors. It was a Saturday night and more than a little chaotic with sick or injured people all around him and hospital staff trying their best to accommodate all of them. Dion grabbed the first nurse he saw by the arm.
“Lyra Anderson. Where is she?” he asked urgently.
The nurse, who was about half Dion’s size with a cap of red hair and tired green eyes, looked up at him and mumbled, “Information desk’s over that way, sir.”
“Just tell me where she is?” Dion implored.
“You have to go to the information desk like everybody else,” she replied, pulling her arm away from his grasp.
Cursing, Dion pushed past more people who seemed to be lost and flattened his palms on the counter of the so-called information desk. “Lyra Anderson?”
“And who are you?” the round Caucasian woman with fat, flushed cheeks and a messy graying ponytail answered glibly.
“I’m…” Dion hesitated.
“I’m her mother,” he heard a voice from behind him say.
Janean stepped up behind her son, one hand going around his waist. “She was in a car accident,” Janean continued, her voice still a little shaky, but much more composed than it had been when she was at the house.
The nurse began looking down at a clipboard filled with frayed edge papers. “Accident on Interstate 95’s in exam room twelve. Fatality is on its way to the morgue. No names on either.”
At that a quiet sob escaped Janean’s lips.
“Thank you,” Bruce said with an arm around his wife’s shoulders as he escorted her away from the desk.
The three of them were headed into the massive waiting area when Trent and Savian came through what looked like two swinging side doors.
“Two of the cops on the scene are right down this way,” Trent told them. “He’s going to let us see them.”
“See who?” Bruce asked.
Trent shrugged, his features stoic. “Both.”
“I want to see Lyra” was Dion’s reply.
This time Trent nodded and led the way. They all followed him through the same swinging doors he’d just emerged from. The next hallway was long, with doors on each side with signs numbering each exam room. In the center was a sort of island with computers and hospital staff moving around quickly. Orders were being shouted, machines beeped, codes were being called, and Dion ignored it all.
His gaze remained focused as he followed his cousins, his feet moving fast, his chest heaving with determination. Lyra wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be.
Exam room twelve was at the end of the next hallway, with two uniformed Miami police officers standing outside the room. They both looked pretty grim, one older cop holding a notepad and the younger one looking up just in time to see them coming.
“Reynolds, this is the Donovan family. Officers Troy Reynolds and Bobby Ly
nch,” Trent said by way of introductions.
“Officers, what can you tell us?” Bruce asked, stepping forward immediately.
“I don’t want to hear the story. I want to see Lyra,” Dion said adamantly.
Sean touched his shoulders. “Let’s just hear what they have to say first, then we’ll go in.”
Dion ran his hands down his face, taking deep breaths.
Reynolds, the young cop with the coffee-brown skin, began talking first. “Car swerved right after turning onto the interstate, jumped the jersey wall, went down the embankment and crashed. Fatality was ejected from the car upon impact. Body was found about twenty feet south of where the car landed.”
“And the second person?” Savian asked, standing right behind his Aunt Janean with a hand in hers.
“Pretty banged up. She was wearing her seat belt, which along with the airbag most likely saved her life. The doctors seem to be optimistic, although I did hear them talking about surgery.”
“Oh, Lord,” Janean sobbed. “Where’s Lyra Anderson?” she asked.
“We found this in the vehicle,” Officer Lynch said, holding a small silver purse in his hand. “Identification belongs to Lyra Anderson.”
“So where the hell is she?” Dion exploded. He’d heard enough. If he didn’t see Lyra in the next few seconds he was going to hurt somebody.
Reynolds thrust a thumb toward the door behind him. Exam room twelve.
Without another thought Dion pushed past him, letting himself into the room, stopping cold the second he saw her lying in the bed.
Chapter 22
She lay absolutely still, her small body flanked by all the white of the sheets and the bandages. Beside her, machines with snakelike cords stretched to her arms, beeped and glowed with colorful numbers and lines. It smelled sterile, cold and still, like death.
Dion swallowed hard, still struggling to keep tears at bay. His chest heaved with the effort, his feet refusing to move even though his brain told him to go to her, touch her, save her.
After what seemed like a lifetime he took those first steps until he stopped right beside the bed, his hand reaching out to hers before pausing abruptly. Both her hands were bandaged all the way up to her elbows. He looked to her face and noticed dozens of small gashes across her cheeks, nose and forehead. They were red and slightly puffy. Her eyes were closed, her lips, too, as her chest moved rhythmically when she breathed.
Hours ago she’d been stunning in her pink gown and curly hair. Her face had been made up, lightly, but still so that she looked like a fairy princess. At least to Dion she did. All her hair was pulled back now, matted to her head beneath another swatch of bandages.
Behind him there was a noise, but Dion didn’t turn. He couldn’t take his eyes off Lyra.
“She has four broken ribs and multiple contusions. We’ll know more about her neurological state when she wakes up. Right now the focus is on the extensive damage to her hands.”
It was a male voice speaking and from what he was saying Dion suspected he was the doctor. Still not looking away he asked. “What’s wrong with her hands?”
“I’ve ordered an orthopedic evaluation. The surgeon should be here soon. They were pretty banged up, like maybe she put her hands up to protect her face from all the flying glass. But then the air bag deployed and the force pushed her hands backward.” The doctor lifted his hands to show Dion what he meant. “X-rays show broken bones in a couple of fingers and her right wrist. I won’t know how much more damage occurred until she wakes up and the ortho examines her.”
When Dion managed to look away from Lyra he saw that the doctor—a young African-American man with wire-rimmed glasses and a slightly receding hairline—was standing on the other side of Lyra’s bed looking at him.
“She’s very lucky. Mr. Donovan. Had she not been wearing a seat belt and that airbag not deployed, she would have gone straight through the windshield.”
Dion nodded, swallowing hard. “Her mother?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “She died on impact. No suffering.”
He nodded again, grateful for at least that. There was no love lost between him and Paula Anderson, but Lyra would want to know.
“Where’s her body?”
“On its way to the hospital morgue,” the doctor answered.
“Call me as soon as it’s ready to be transported. I’ll sign for an autopsy, as well.” The decision was made before Dion had even spoken. He wanted to know what was in Paula’s system when she died and if it was any type of poison he was determined Stanford and Katrina would stand trial for murder.
“Cause of death is most certainly going to be the ejection from the car. There’s really no need for an autopsy.”
Dion’s cool look cut off the doctor’s remaining words, so that he was the one nodding now. “I’ll get the necessary paperwork to you.”
“I want it expedited.”
“No problem, Mr. Donovan.”
“If there’s nothing else, I’d like to be alone with her,” he stated.
“Sure. I’ll come back when the ortho arrives. See this red button here,” he said to Dion, and waited for Dion to look where he was pointing.
“It’s to call the nurse. If she opens her eyes, talks, shows any signs of waking up, call immediately. Do not hesitate.”
“I will,” Dion said solemnly.
The doctor left the room and Dion took another deep breath. Looking down at her hands he sighed and closed his eyes. Saying a silent prayer, he gave thanks for her life and vowed to do whatever was necessary to make her future as happy as possible.
* * *
Time seemed to stand still while he sat by Lyra’s bed, watching her breathe. He startled only slightly when he felt a hand on his back.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest,” he heard his mother say.
“I want to be here when she wakes up.”
“You’ll probably be asleep, and how much good will that do?” Janean asked.
She’d changed her clothes, he noticed. This wasn’t the same dress she’d worn when they’d come to the hospital with him originally. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost noon. We’ve all been home, rested and come back. Now I want you to do the same.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Now you know better than to lie to me, Dion.” Janean had her hands on his shoulders and leaned over to hug and kiss him on the cheek. “I know how you’re feeling.”
“No. You don’t,” he said, holding his head down. He’d always loved the comfort his mother provided, always knew he could turn to her whenever he needed to. Only now, it didn’t seem like there was anything she could do to make this situation better.
“You think I haven’t known all these years how you felt about this girl? I watched the two of you dancing around each other for years.”
“And it didn’t bother you?”
“No. Why would it bother me?”
“The rest of the family thinks I’m no good for her.”
“Dion Lawrence Donovan, didn’t I just tell you about lying to me?” she scolded.
Dion turned so he could look at her. “I’m not lying. They all think I’m just using her. They think I use all women. It’s a well-known fact. I don’t know how it skipped you.” He stood and stretched then walked across the room.
“It must have skipped me and knocked you right upside your head,” Janean said with a sigh. “Your family loves you. We respect you and are proud of the man you’ve become.”
“Even if that man’s always in the tabloids for womanizing?”
Janean chuckled. “Now you know there isn’t a Donovan on this earth that can keep their name out of the mouths of jealous people. It comes with the name. That’s why your father told me when I met
him.”
“But Dad didn’t date a lot of women.”
“That’s what you think. He did his dipping and dabbling before he and I settled down. It’s not against the law, Dion. And to tell the truth, I’ve never seen you disrespect a female. If you didn’t want to be bothered with them anymore you told them so and moved on. There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want.”
He turned, rested his hands on the foot of the hospital bed and looked at Lyra. “I’ve always wanted her.”
“I know. And she’s always wanted you. The good Lord spared her life because He wasn’t finished with her yet. She’ll be here for you to do right by her.”
He nodded. “I will. She’s had a hard life. Finding out about Paula isn’t going to be easy.”
Janean glanced down at Lyra and shook her head. “No, it hasn’t been easy. But you know, she’s always been a fighter. No matter what kids used to say about her or her mother, she got up and went back to school the next day with only positive thoughts. She’s the best thing to come from Paula Anderson.”
“The very best thing,” Dion said, silently urging Lyra to open her eyes and look at him.
When she didn’t, Janean stood and walked to him. “Go on home, take a hot shower and eat something. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
He nodded because he knew she was right. As much as he didn’t want to leave Lyra’s side, there wasn’t much he could do for her if he collapsed from fatigue himself. So with slow steps he moved to the side of her bed again, this time lowering himself to whisper in her ear.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, then kissed her cheek. “I love you.”
When he stood and moved again, Janean opened her arms to him. He looked at the woman before him and could only smile. Never in Dion’s life had he thought he could love another female as much as he loved Janean Donovan. Now he did, and his mother understood perfectly.
Chapter 23
Everything hurt. There was a wicked pain searing across her forehead and pressure on her shoulders. Her stomach churned, and when she attempted to lick her dry lips her cheeks throbbed. What the hell? Lyra thought, but then considered it might help to at least open her eyes.