by J. E. Taylor
“I love driving fast,” Jessica said watching the road speed under them.
Steve raised his eyebrows and glanced at the speedometer. He was going close to ninety in a forty mile an hour zone. He allowed a small grin to play on his lips as he refocused back on navigating the car. “Because why?”
Jessica sighed. “Because it was meant to be.”
“Fate?”
“Mmm.”
“I don’t believe in fate.”
Jessica offered a shrug when he looked her way. “I used to be the same way.” She tilted her head back. “Eric was the one who said we were meant to be together.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He said we balance each other.”
Steve rolled his eyes. That’s Eric all right.
Jessica shot him a glare.
“So, you’re telling me my daughter was destined to die?” His gaze turned to stone along with his heart. “And Eric was destined to die?”
Jessica looked out the window and let the question hang in the air for a few minutes before she spoke. “I know it doesn’t make sense and Chris would be the first to tell you he still doesn’t understand it, but I love the man. I have since I first set eyes on him. Believe me, I tried to talk myself out of it time and time again, but it just is.” A heavy sigh followed as she looked at Steve. “I love him the way you love your wife.”
Steve returned her gaze before concentrating on the road again. He didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. Thirty-five minutes later, they pulled into the hospital lot and Steve parked and sat with his hands resting on the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and reached for his eye patch, slipping it on before he glanced at Jessica.
“Explaining that would be hard.” Jessica nodded in his direction and stepped out of the car.
Steve’s lips formed a smirk and he nodded, closing the car door behind him.
When they stepped into the room, Joe Curtis turned. His tired eyes grew hard at the sight of his son-in-law.
“Ah, shit,” Steve muttered and glanced at Jessica. “Hi, Joe.” He returned his attention to his father-in-law.
Jennifer stood and stared at Steve and the woman trailing behind him. She hadn’t expected him back for another couple of weeks and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad he was here even if he brought a stranger with him.
The muscles in Joe’s jaw clenched. “I thought you were in Virginia.”
Steve nodded. “I was, until Kyle killed my partner.” He turned toward Jessica. “This is Jessica Ryan. Jessica, Joe Curtis, Jenny’s father.”
Jessica extended her slim hand in Joe’s direction.
Joe stared at it for a moment before grasping it with a quick shake.
His father-in-law’s thoughts assaulted him ranging from derogatory slurs to where he had been a couple of hours before and Steve’s face grew hot with anger. “A court order? What in God’s name did you do?”
Jennifer cocked her head, watching the dynamics between Steve and her father with interest. The sudden change in Steve struck a chord.
Joe turned his attention back to his son-in-law and shifted. “It’s not fair to keep her alive. She’s brain dead, Steve and it is time to let her go.”
“She is MY wife, you don’t have a say in her care at all. Get out.” Steve pointed at the door.
“Her living will says otherwise.” Joe pulled the will out of his pocket. “I filed paperwork in court this morning to stop life support based on the living will the two of you put in place.”
Jennifer stumbled, her jaw going slack and desperation gripped her ghostly form. “Dad, you didn’t!” and on the heels of the accusation, she snapped her gaze to Steve. “How did you know?”
“Get out!” Steve yelled, ripping the paper out of his hands and crumbling it. He shoved Joe out of the room and slammed the door, leaning his weight against it, he met Jessica’s gaze. “He can’t do this.”
The room tilted and he leaned his head back against the door. Tears squeezed out of the corners of his tightly closed eyes. His chest hitched twice before he regained control. Blinking the rest of the tears back, he glanced at his wife trying to pry out any thoughts locked deep in her brain. Nothing. It was a complete blank. “Fix her.” The order came out in a raspy whisper and tears choked him.
Fix her? Jennifer turned her attention to the woman, watching as she approached the husk in the bed.
Jessica shot a hesitant glance in Steve’s direction.
“Just try.” Hope glimmered in his teary eyes.
The moment the woman’s lips touched Jennifer’s forehead, the room began to spin. “What the hell?” Jennifer reached for the wall to steady herself and watched light dance over her skeletal form, it filled the room and she blinked, feeling the strength being sapped from her spirit, yanking her toward the bed, toward her body.
Spiraling, she fell into a void of darkness.
Jessica took a shaky step backwards.
Steve moved quickly to catch her. Her eyes rolled up in a dead faint, her body limp from the exertion. Steve gently tapped her cheeks, his gaze shifting between Jessica and his wife, clinging to hope like a capsized boat in a storm.
Jennifer’s mind still registered like a blank slate, black nothingness.
He closed his eyes as Jessica’s fluttered open.
Jessica found her feet, pulling herself out of Steve’s grasp. She glanced at Jennifer, noting the change in color in her cheeks, but like Steve, she didn’t hear any thoughts resounding from the woman. “I’m sorry.” She turned to Steve.
Steve nodded and picked up the paper he had tossed on the ground, unfolding it and reading the terms of the will they had put in place shortly after they got married. The accompanying petition had been filed that morning requesting the removal of Jennifer’s feeding tube. She would starve to death in a matter of days. “I need to stop this,” he said.
Jessica pulled the paper out of his hands and scanned it, flipping open her cell phone. “Chris?” She paused. “Yeah, we’re here. I need you to call Lynn and have her file a motion to stop an injunction. It looks like Steve’s in-law’s filed a petition to stop life support.” She glanced up at Steve and nodded. “Jennifer Williams, Brooksfield Hospital, case number 5329051. Thanks babe. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” She flipped the phone closed. “That will buy you a little time.”
Steve stared at her wondering why the hell she would do that for him, especially since he treated her like such a heel.
“I did it because you’ve got a little of my son in you now, and I know he’d want me to do whatever I could for you.”
A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it, irritated at how fucking emotional he’d become in the last twenty-four hours. He turned toward Jennifer, leaning over and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Kyle killed my parents,” he whispered and his vision blurred. He blinked back the sudden mist and stared at Jennifer’s slack face. “Please, come back to me.” He hung his head for a moment, gathering himself.
Abruptly, he turned and crossed to the door, swinging it open and glaring at his father-in-law who was leaning against the far wall, waiting. “You will not stop life support until I get back.” He pointed at Joe. “Understand?”
“You have until the end of the week,” Joe snapped.
“No, Joe. I have a bit longer than that. My lawyer will be in touch.” Steve stormed past Joe.
Joe gripped his arm, yanking him back. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Steve glared at his father-in-law. “I’m going to bury my parent’s. Kyle killed them yesterday.”
Joe’s face fell, his glare softening. “I’m... I’m sorry,” he stuttered.
“Yeah, and you want to take my wife away, too,” Steve snarled. “I don’t think so.” He stormed off, leaving Jessica hurrying behind him.
Steve slid into the car and started it as Jessica hopped into the passenger seat. He sat, gripping the steering wheel. The muscles in his arms and neck tightened into hard knots and he stared through the windshield.
&nb
sp; Jessica reached out putting her hand on his shoulder.
The tremors gripping Steve cascaded through his body, vibrating his entire frame. “They want to kill Jenny.” His throat burned from the pent up tears. He glanced at Jessica, clenching his jaw and the tears sprouted. He turned away, leaning his forehead on the steering wheel cursing for this blatant display of weakness.
Jessica left her hand on his shoulder, aware that the underlying rage still coiled up in his depths could strike out at anyone in his path, including her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered when he lifted his head.
Steve sat up, shook her hand off his shoulder and wiped his face with his hands, shaking off the despair and grasping onto the anger like a man to a life raft. “Thank you for trying,” he said as he put the car in gear and pulled away from the hospital.
Chapter 23
Kyle lowered the binoculars wondering who the woman with Steve was. He glanced up at the hospital and slipped on the lab coat, adjusting the wig and beard in the mirror before he stepped out of his car.
He climbed the stairs to the ICU and wandered down the hall, finding Jennifer’s room easily. The guard at the door glanced at the medical tag on Kyle’s coat and went back to flipping through the magazine.
Kyle slid into the room with a clipboard in his hand offering Jennifer’s father a slight smile. He walked over to the machine that measured brain activity and picked up the read out. The line printed was still flat. He picked up her wrist finding her pulse strong and steady.
“How are you today?” Kyle turned his attention to Jennifer’s father.
“As good as can be expected.” Joe gestured toward Jennifer. “By the way, I filed a petition, but her husband’s fighting it.”
Kyle nodded. “I know this is difficult, but you’re doing the right thing.” He gave a quick glance at Jennifer before leaving the room. Plan B. It would be tricky, especially with the sudden appearance of the guards, but he could pull off getting her out of the hospital when the time came. Whistling, he descended the stairwell.
He had one more loose end to tie up before he set the rest of his plan in motion.
Chapter 24
The radio played softly in the car as Steve flew back to York. His eye patch hung from the rearview mirror and Steve didn’t speak until they pulled into the driveway. “Thank you,” he said and put the car in park.
“I’m sorry.”
Steve nodded. “At least you tried.” He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It read 10:18 a.m.
“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?”
Steve considered the offer and nodded, accompanying her into the house where Chris lay on the couch listening to the boys argue about who was better at the game they were playing.
“How’d it go?” Chris asked as Jessica walked into the kitchen.
“Not so good,” Jessica answered. She pulled the full coffee carafe off the heating pad and poured a cup for Steve, handing it to him before she filled one for herself. “Did you contact Lynn?”
“Yep. That injunction will be tied up in court for a while.” Chris rose and shuffled into the kitchen taking the seat next to Jessica.
Steve stood up, setting the coffee cup on the table. “I need to get moving. Do you know when Eric’s funeral is going to be?”
“We’re aiming for Friday. His body is supposed to arrive today.” Tears sprouted in Jessica’s eyes.
“Do you mind if I attend?” Steve asked.
Jessica shook her head, offering a sad smile. “No, he’d want you there.”
Steve read between the lines. They were only extending the welcome because he was Eric’s partner, not because they actually wanted him at the funeral.
“Why do you do that?” Jessica asked, wiping her eyes.
“Do what?”
“Sell yourself short.”
Steve raised an eyebrow.
“You assume you’re not welcome.”
“I’ve come into your home, delivered bad news and then had every intention of using you to get my wife back, even going so far as to threaten your husband. If I were you, I wouldn’t welcome someone like me into my home.”
“Well, you’re not me. Besides both Chris and I can hear your thoughts and we understand what’s going on. You’re desperate on all fronts. We get that, and as far as your wife’s concerned, I would do the same thing if I was in your shoes.” Jessica glanced toward Chris and then back. “Despite your less than grateful attitude, you are welcome here.”
He didn’t know how to respond—especially since he was the reason their son was dead. He offered her a slight nod and turned to leave. “I’ll see you Friday.”
“Give me a call when you get back up this way,” Chris said as he stood by the kitchen table. “Especially if you were serious about quitting the FBI. I’ve got a couple of opportunities I’d like to run by you.”
Steve paused at the door and looked over his shoulder. “We’ll see.” He turned the knob and headed out to his car, slipping inside and pulling out without another glance. He studied his reflection, marveling at the full restoration of his eye and wondered if there would be a delayed reaction with Jennifer.
Jack’s going to have a coronary when he sees this.
Steve tried formulating a reasonable explanation but just ended up shaking his head. There was no reasonable explanation for this kind of miracle.
Chapter 25
When Steve crossed the Connecticut state line, he put his earpiece in and pushed Jack’s number on his phone. The phone rang, dumping into voicemail. “Jack, call when you get this,” he said and hung up.
He flipped the radio on and sighed. Nickleback’s Far Away blared from the speakers. “I miss you Jenny,” he said to the empty car. The tune came softly out of his throat, drifting through the car as he sang the words that his wife loved so much. “I’m going after the son of a bitch.”
His stomach growled half way through the four-hour drive and he pulled off the highway to grab a bite to eat. As the waiter dropped the check on the table, his phone vibrated and he glanced at the display. Jack’s number flashed on the caller ID and Steve flipped it open. “It’s about time.”
“Agent Murphy is a little preoccupied.”
Steve’s face burned, heat surrounding him along with the banging in his chest. He remained silent, standing and peeling off the money for lunch before he exited. “I swear, when I find you, I will take you apart piece by fucking piece,” Steve growled.
“You’re not going to beg for your boss’s life?”
“It wouldn’t do any good.”
“You’re learning,” Kyle purred.
“Where are you?” He closed his eyes.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kyle teased.
A muffled cry competed with Oprah blaring from the television in the background. “What hotel?”
“Why do you think we are at a hotel?”
Torrington. The thought was louder than the muffled groan from Jack. There were only seven hotels in Torrington. “Television is too loud to be anywhere else,” Steve answered and flipped the phone off.
He hopped into the car and dialed 911. “My name is Steve Williams. I’m with the FBI and I have reason to believe my superior officer is being held hostage by a known felon at one of the seven hotels in Torrington,” he said. “The assailant is armed and dangerous. My superior’s name is Jack Murphy. Please hurry.” He disconnected and scrolled to the prior call, hitting redial and called Jack’s cell phone. “I want to speak to Jack,” he said when Kyle picked up.
“You called the cops.”
Steve heard the silence in the background and knew by the absence of background thoughts—his boss was dead. “What you did to us last summer is nothing compared to the hell I’m gonna rain down on you.” The words came out in a low snarl.
Kyle laughed and hung up.
Steve let out a roar, flinging the phone across the car and peeling out of the parking lot. When he hit the highway, he was already going ninet
y and muttering under his breath. Thirty minutes into the ride, going in excess of one hundred and ten miles-per hour, he flew by a police officer.
“Goddamnit.” Steve swore. Lights and sirens filled his rearview mirror. He glanced at the road ahead of him and back at the state trooper. “Fuck!” he yelled and hit the steering wheel—he didn’t have time to explain the situation. The more time that went by, the less likely they would pick up a trace of where the bastard went. Steve eased up on the gas and pulled to the side of the highway. He slid the patch over his eye and watched the trooper leisurely stroll to the driver’s side window.
“You in a hurry, son?” The trooper asked leaning toward the window.
“FBI,” Steve said and fished in his coat pocket. “Goddamnit,” he cursed under his breath. He no longer had his badge. He leaned his head back on the seat. “I don’t have my badge.”
“Please step out of the car, sir,” the officer said.
Steve turned full toward the trooper. “I don’t have time for this shit,” he answered. “I have reason to believe my superior officer was just murdered in Torrington.”
“Please step out of the car and place your hands on the hood,” the officer repeated, placing his hand on the butt of his gun. Shit, this guy fits the description. Dark hair, patch over the left eye, posing as an FBI agent. Shit.
Hearing the officer’s thoughts, Steve put his hands up slowly. “Ok, I’m getting out.” Fuck! The bastard set me up for Jack’s murder.
He calmly stepped out, skirting around the open door and putting his hands on the hot hood. “My name is Steve Williams. I’m an agent with the FBI. Jack Murphy was my superior officer,” he said while the cop patted him down. “I believe the same man who murdered my parents yesterday killed Jack Murphy today.”
The cop clasped the handcuff on Steve’s wrist and pulled it behind his back, securing the cuffs to his other wrist. “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say or do will be used against you in a court of law.” He led Steve to the police car reciting the remainder of the Miranda rights and slipped him into the back. The officer retrieved the car keys out of Steve’s car and did a careful inspection of the vehicle, finding only a backpack in the trunk. He returned to the squad car and slid into the front seat, starting the cruiser.