Selective/Memory: The Depth of Emotion Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion)

by Lorenzo, DD

  “What?” Blake said. “Call the police.”

  “I am the police,” Carter said with an emotionless calm.

  Blake had a very uneasy feeling.

  “Carter! Think of what you’re doing, man,” he implored. “If you screw this up, she could walk free!”

  Blake’s tone jogged just enough sense into Carter to push his vigilante desires to the side.

  “All right!” he shouted. “I’m calling the State Police now,” he said.

  Blake, however, didn’t trust his mindset.

  “Do it now, Carter, because if you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself when you see what she’s done here,” Blake advised. “Really, man,” he said, more calmly, “you have to do it the right way.”

  Carter hung up. He could pull her over when it was just the two of them and break her neck. He knew in his gut that she killed Lacey, and just trusting that made him want to deal with her himself.

  He drove with that image for all of three minutes when Lacey popped into his head.

  Damn her!

  He knew what he had to do…

  Two State Troopers pulled alongside of him and surrounded her car. Their flashing lights went on and sirens whooped. He thought this would be uneventful, but she floored it. Her car went speeding down the highway, and both police cars gave chase.

  Erratically, she wove all over the road, trying to out maneuver them, driving as fast as she could. Fleeing was always the mark of a guilty party.

  Carter kept up. There was no way in hell he wasn’t going to be there when they put her in handcuffs. He might even take a picture of it with his phone and send it to his brother. He chased the cops as they chased her, exhilarated with the knowledge that this would end with her in jail.

  All at once, her car lurched, going off the side of the road, bouncing up and down wildly, possibly breaking an axle. She got out of the car with a gun in her hand and pointed it at the officers. They drew their weapons and pointed them at her in response.

  Carter jumped out of his car, yelling at her to put the gun down, as did the officers. She saw him and gave him her attention, never letting the gun go—still pointing it at the three men. Her hands were shaking. Carter looked at her as she started walking toward them with the gun.

  He screamed at her, “Put it down, Marisol! Put the damn gun down!”

  She pretended not to hear him and kept coming forward. She then began to scream at them, shaking with tears streaming down her face, “Yo lo siento mucho! Yo lo siento!”

  As she started to run toward them, the gun discharged, hitting the one officer in the calf.

  The next moments were a blur. Carter hit the ground as gunshots were discharged and bullets flew. When it was over, Marisol lay in the field.

  Immediately, Carter ran to the injured officer to inspect his condition. His calf was bleeding, but he was okay. His fellow officer had already called for help and was attending to him.

  Once Carter assured himself that the officers were fine, he went over to Marisol and knelt down to see if she was alive. Placing his fingers at her throat for a pulse, her eyes opened slightly.

  “…lo siento…lo siento…I sorry…”

  It was a desperate whisper, and then she was no more. He stared, feeling no remorse and knowing that he’d never have answers…

  “She’s out of surgery. She’s fine.”

  The doctor’s words allowed them to breathe. Declan had been waiting for hours to hear of her condition. He, along with Jeannie, hadn’t moved or spoken since she entered the emergency room and the doctors had begun to operate. Declan could no longer deny that his world had ceased to exist since Aria had gone into surgery.

  Jeannie reached her hand up and placed it on his arm, comforting him.

  “Thank you, doctor,” Declan said, his voice threatening to expose his thoughts. “Thank you…so much.”

  He reached his hand out to the doctor, overcome with emotion.

  “Yes, thank you,” Jeannie added through tear-filled eyes.

  The doctor motioned for them to sit, indicating that he wanted to further discuss Aria’s condition.

  “There are some things that you should know,” he warned. “Most of the facial lacerations were not deep. However, the pelvic area was a deep puncture wound. It went in far enough to damage her uterus. We repaired the damage, but she may have difficulty carrying a child. We won’t know until she becomes pregnant, but there’s always that possibility when the uterine wall has been damaged.”

  Tears escaped Jeannie’s eyes, but Declan sought to console her, placing a supportive arm around her.

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “As long as she’s okay, I don’t care about that; I care about her. There are other ways to have a family. I’ll tell her that I don’t care.”

  The doctor was satisfied with his answer, but continued.

  “You have a good attitude, Mr. Sinclair,” he said, “but she needs to know everything.”

  He continued the surgical commentary.

  “Although the repair has been made, it isn’t as though the wound were made as in a C-section. The puncture was deep, and on an awkward angle. Scar tissue will form over the repair. There’s just no way to tell what could happen. Also,” he added, “the damage to her lower back from falling down the stairs will need to be watched. Back injuries are so unpredictable.”

  “How is her back? And her legs?” Jeannie asked warily.

  “Surprisingly,” the doctor said, “the fact that she was strapped into that chair, kept her immobile while she fell, which helped, but she’s bruised all over, and I’m sure it’s going to be a while before she can walk without pain,” he explained. “Her back still took impact in the fall.”

  He paused to smile hopefully at them.

  “When you combine the stress of carrying a child with those two pre-existing conditions, it could be difficult for Aria, if not impossible. She’ll need to know all the risks before she makes the decision to become pregnant,” he advised. “For now”—the doctor smiled, looking at them hopefully—“the primary focus is for her to heal and regain her strength, but she’s a fighter. The moment she regained consciousness, she asked about her friend, and then the two of you.”

  Jeannie raised her eyes toward heaven at the same time Declan smiled.

  “That’s my daughter,” she said. “She never gives up on anything—or anyone.”

  Jeannie looked over in Declan’s direction, noting that his eyes were glossed with unshed tears.

  As Declan watched Jeannie apprehensively walk into the recovery room, he thought about what the doctor had said. He didn’t care about children. Honestly, it didn’t bother him if he and Aria ever had them. They had never discussed it. The only thing that concerned him was that she’d recover and be okay. They had come so far and gone through so much. Having each other was more than he could have hoped for.

  The moment he saw Aria with Marisol, he knew she was his world, and he would have exchanged everything he owned for her. The report that the doctor just delivered allowed the iron band around his chest to fall away. He felt he could breathe again with the knowledge she’d be okay. Everything else was incidental. They had the rest of their lives to figure things out.

  He got out his cell to call Carter and tell him the good news.

  “Yeah,” Carter groaned into the phone.

  “Yeah, yourself,” Declan countered abrasively, taken back by his tone. “I wanted you to know Aria’s going to be fine.”

  When Carter said nothing, he questioned him.

  “What happened? Where are you?” He could hear voices in the background.

  “At the police barracks,” his brother said. “Marisol’s dead.”

  Declan was shocked. “What? How?”

  “She pulled a gun on the two troopers who tried to pull her over. She shot one of them, and she was killed in the return fire,” Carter replied, sounding disappointed.

  Declan sensed his brother’s tone. “You don’t
sound too happy. I’m glad to be rid of that bitch. Aren’t you?”

  Carter sighed into the phone.

  “Yeah. I’m happy,” he reported. “I just wish I had some answers. Marisol went to her grave knowing details about Lacey—not that anything would bring her back.”

  It was suddenly clear. Declan understood how much his brother simply wanted answers, and he felt robbed of those.

  “Mom would say there’s a special place in hell for people like her, you know?” Declan reminded him.

  “Yeah, I know,” Carter said resigned. “I just have to let it go.”

  He was silent for a few minutes. Declan knew his brother was thinking too much, and it worried him.

  “You okay?” he inquired.

  “Yeah,” Carter said. He wanted to finish what he was doing at the police station. “I’ll be up when I’m done here. Anything on Paige?”

  Declan didn’t have much, but shared what he knew.

  “She was unconscious when they brought her in,” he confirmed. “She hit her head pretty hard in the fall. They’re checking her for broken bones, internal bleeding, brain swelling—you know.” He left it to Carter’s experience to fill in the blanks. “Blake’s with her now so I can concentrate on Aria. I’m sure we’ll know more when you get here.”

  Carter ran his hand over his face. This woman was a mine field; anyone who came into contact with her got hurt. He was glad Marisol was dead, or who knows what else would have happened.

  “I’ll be up soon, and Dec?” he said, tightness forming in his chest.

  “Yeah?” he answered.

  “I’m glad she’s alive…” Carter quietly said.

  Declan heard the small amount of justified envy in his words—and he didn’t begrudge him a fraction.

  His thoughts went in a different direction.

  “Yeah, me too—and I’m glad Marisol’s dead.”

  Blake was the first person Declan saw as he entered the room. Surprised, he found Paige conscious and alert when he approached the bed. Scanning her up and down, he saw a cast on one of her arms and legs, a few stitches on her face, and a wrap around her head.

  “Hello, pretty lady,” he smiled. “Will it hurt if I give you a kiss?”

  She smiled at him. “From a handsome model? I don’t think so. I’ve already claimed one from the fine man sitting next to me, and I’m going to milk this all I can!”

  Declan bent low to kiss her on the cheek.

  “I don’t think you hit your head as hard as they said you did. Seems like you have a strategy,” he teased.

  “Oh, I think I might be just a little pathetic if a nice looking doctor or male nurse walks through the door,” she said, batting her eyes.

  Blake clutched his chest and fell dramatically back in his chair. “I’m crushed. I thought I was your knight in shining armor for the day.”

  She smiled at him. “You are, you are.”

  Putting her hand to her head, she playfully flirted.

  “What did you say your name was again? I’ve just hit my head and I can’t remember.”

  Blake laughed at her, and Declan shook his head.

  “Mm, mm, mm…there’s nothing wrong with you, Paige. You know exactly what you’re doing!”

  Paige’s face clouded with worry. “How’s Aria?”

  “She’s going to be fine,” he consoled. “She’s had surgery, and now she’s in recovery.”

  Worry replaced concern on her face. “Surgery?”

  “Yeah,” he said seriously. “Marisol stabbed her.”

  He watched as Paige’s hand flew to her throat. He hurried to tell her the rest as Blake reached for her hand.

  “Marisol can’t hurt her anymore. She’s dead.”

  Blake and Paige spoke at the same time. “Dead!?”

  Declan nodded his head, confirming the statement.

  “Yes. The police tried to pull her over, so she tried to shoot them. She was shot and killed.”

  He was surprised at how little emotion he felt over her death. Blake appeared more shocked than Paige.

  “That’s unbelievable, man,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Wanting to change the subject, Declan pulled at his sleeve.

  “Why don’t you go get something to drink? I’ll stay here with Paige until you get back. Jeannie’s with Aria; they’re getting ready to move her to a private room. I can stay for a few minutes.”

  Blake, never letting go of Paige’s hand, looked at her in question.

  “Okay with you?”

  She smiled tenderly. “I’m fine, handsome,” she assured him. “Go take a walk.”

  He faced Declan and offered him the seat.

  “Keep an eye on her,” he sternly ordered, causing Declan to raise his eyebrow.

  “Yes, sir!” he playfully mocked.

  Both he and Paige watched as Blake left the room.

  Paige waited for a moment, to assure Blake couldn’t hear their conversation. Still uncertain of what Declan had seen, she wanted to explain if he uncovered what Marisol had done to her. She didn’t really care because that brief moment took Marisol’s focus away from Aria and onto her—and anything was worth that.

  “Declan…I know you might be a little confused about me…” Paige seemed ready to offer an explanation, yet hesitant to give one.

  Declan stopped her.

  “I’m not confused at all,” he said. “I don’t know what did, or didn’t happen. What I do know is that you saved the woman I love. It’s a debt I can never repay.”

  His expression was full of emotion. He closed his hand over hers, tenderly touching the bruised skin.

  “All I can say, Paige, is that if you need anything—ever—I’ll do whatever I can for you.”

  Paige was touched by his sincerity. It made her speechless.

  “I mean it, Paige,” he assured her. “I know you’re Aria’s friend, but I’m forever in your debt. Whatever you need from me, I’ll always be there for you.”

  It was more emotion than Declan had ever exhibited to anyone other than Aria.

  Paige moved her unbroken arm over to take his hand, to respond to his touch.

  “Just love my girl, Declan,” she said, tears now threatening to fall. “Make a choice. Don’t let anything pull you two apart—ever. You’d be making a huge mistake.”

  They were wise words, and they sank deep. Paige was right. Never again, no matter what, would he lose Aria. He’d watched her bleed—perhaps almost die—and felt moments tick like hours until help arrived. He wished they hadn’t lost the time they did when they were apart, but he was determined that they were going to be together. If she needed convincing, he’d convince her. Too much time had been wasted—but that was all about to change.

  From now on, they’d be together. He’d make sure of it…

  Her anger hadn’t abated since she’d run out of the house. Damn him! He ruined everything! All was going according to plan until he showed up. Marisol would have loved shoving the knife directly into Aria’s jugular if she hadn’t wanted to watch Declan squirm. Knowing that Aria would need medical attention, Marisol drove to the hospital lot and parked far enough away to view when they arrived through the Emergency Room entrance. As predicted, two ambulances arrived within moments of each other. She was only interested in the one transporting Aria and Declan; Paige was inconsequential. Marisol cared not if she lived or died.

  As pandemonium ensued throughout the triage area, Marisol slipped past the hospital staff unnoticed, ducking into the staff room long enough to lift a lab coat and put it over her clothes. All she had to do was wait and remain incognito while following Aria’s whereabouts. Eventually she would be left by herself, and in her weakened state, Marisol would finish what she started…

  Declan sat with Paige for a little while, but was anxious to return to Aria. Giving her a light kiss on the head, he told Blake to keep a close eye on her. Jeannie had just called his cell from Aria’s room, where they had moved her.

  T
hey both wanted to see her, but Blake said she could go as soon as the doctor would give his approval. He promised he’d take her—in a wheelchair, and he’d push it!

  Declan couldn’t wait to be near her, happy that she and Paige would be on the same floor. He knew Aria would like that.

  His breath caught in his throat as he walked into her room. She was pale and looked so fragile. Everything looked so complicated. Machines were hooked to bags hanging on poles that trailed down into her arms. The tubes ran into a machine that beeped in an alternate pattern. There was a sofa in the room, and a chair on each side of the hospital bed. Jeannie occupied one, her hand holding one of Aria’s. She looked up at Declan as he approached, her eyes red rimmed from tears.

  “She’s in and out of it, honey. She’ll probably be like this all night from the anesthesia and the surgery,” she said in explanation.

  He walked to the other side of the bed, lowering his large frame into the other chair, across from Jeannie. Lifting her hand, he saw that it was punctured and taped, and he tenderly placed it to his cheek.

  Together, they sat there, in silence, as beeps and tones worked in concert to administer healing to Aria. Never taking his concentration away from the events in that little room, Declan watched as Aria breathed, Jeannie prayed, and he said a few prayers of his own…

  The doctor touched Jeannie’s hand and patted Declan on the arm before he disappeared into the hall. Following him, Declan stood in the doorway to ensure his view of Aria was uncompromised.

  “She’s going to be fine,” the doctor reported. “Her vitals are good.”

  Jeannie quietly thanked him for everything. The doctor shook hands with Declan and told him he’d be back to check on Aria tomorrow.

  As she approached Declan with her scarf and coat in hand, Jeannie told him that she’d like to go to Aria’s house to get her some of her own underwear and pajamas, knowing that she’d hate to be in a hospital gown once she was more conscious. Agreeing with her, Declan then decided to inform her of his own plans.