by Dale Mayer
Was he moving in for the kill on her?
Was this the last straw and her father was fed up? Going to do something on a more permanent basis? Lock her up in a home? A fancy hospital? Sign her off to Will in marriage? Then she’d really be in trouble. The thought made her gag then choke. She sat up on the bed, gasping as the horror of such a life clutched at her.
That sent her into a paroxysm of coughing. Finally the frantic gasping for air eased, and she leaned back wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes. She reached for the leftover juice and drank it down hoping to clear her throat.
Then she opened her gaze as if first catching sight of Will. With her hand to her aching chest from the bout of coughing, she gasped as if in surprise. “Will?”
“Yes.” He walked closer. “Are you sick? Or injured? That was a bad cough.”
She groaned and leaned back. “No idea. I feel like shit.”
“Should have come home then, shouldn’t you?”
Not much she could say to that. “If I’d wanted to go home, I would have,” she said, letting her head roll to the side. “I’m so damn tired.”
“You’ll get plenty of rest where you’re going,” Will said sharply. “We can’t let you run all over the countryside having your little episodes, can we?”
“Where is it you think I should go?” she asked bitterly. “A nice padded room?”
“You don’t deserve nice anymore,” he said pointedly. “We tried that and look what happened. You still ran.”
“I didn’t want to be a prisoner.”
“Too bad. Until you’re healthy, you’re not well enough to be on your own. Because so far when you are on your own, you can’t take care of yourself. Then there is your inability to pick up the phone and ask for help,” he said. “Your father was in a right state this morning when he got the news.”
“Ah, sorry about that. I suppose it must have pulled him out of one of those so important meetings too, right?” she snapped. Then groaned. Now she did sound like a petulant child looking for her father’s time and affection when that couldn’t be further from the truth. She’d grown up wanting that, even more so after her mother’s death. Apparently her mother had handed the delicate genes down to Hannah. Too bad her father never had a son – that’s what he really wanted.
In fact, he treated Will, and George, as if they were his sons. If she wasn’t around she had no doubt they’d inherit everything. Except her father had Wanda, his arm decoration. One of a dozen this last decade, although she’d been the only one to last for years. But she was barely a few years older than Hannah, and that was just gross. As it were, if any of these people could prove she was mentally incompetent, they’d likely get it all anyway. Not that she wanted anything from her father. She just wanted her freedom. Unfortunately that took money.
She had some of her own, but she had no idea how long that would last. She’d never done a full day’s work in her life until she bought her business. That had been a rude awakening. Hell, she’d never finished college because of her father’s restrictions. After all she wasn’t strong enough to actually take an exam, the stress would probably blow a gasket in her brain. Still, she’d bought the florist shop and hired Tasha to manage it. So she’d done something right. The store had yet to turn a profit, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t. She considered what she’d done so far a success. Something that would amuse her father and Wanda to no end if they knew. Good thing they hadn’t a clue. Her father would order her to sell the shop immediately.
Bitterly, she pleated the hospital sheet and stared at the man in front of her. “Where is Father now?”
“He’s with the administrators making arrangements.”
“Arrangements?” she asked coolly. “What arrangements? I like it here.”
“Well, too bad,” her father said from the doorway. “You won’t be staying. You’ll be transported to Rossmoor Hospital this afternoon.”
“I am not going back there.”
“Yes, you are,” he said in that I’ll-not-listen-to-any-arguments-out-of-you, you-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about voice. “And this time you won’t be checking yourself out any time soon.”
She shook her head, desperate to find a way out of this. And fast. “I’m an adult, Father. That’s not your decision to make.”
“Of course it is. You’re not capable of looking after yourself,” he snapped. “I should have locked you up last time and thrown away the keys. You will travel there this afternoon, go through a full assessment then be back into the same room you were in nine months ago.” He glared at her. “And you will stay there this time, do you understand?”
She glared at him mutely.
“Hannah?” he barked. “Do you understand?”
“Excuse me,” Dr. Trevor Johnson said from the back of the room, startling them all. His voice was hard and uncompromising, but his gaze on Hannah was gentle, caring.
Hannah stared at him in hope. Any interruption right now was a Godsend. Even if this man couldn’t help her. After all, why would he do anything – she’d barely been civil to him. Still, he’d bought her time. She’d take it.
And that look in his eye. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it, but she wished she did – so she couldn’t do it again. It’s like he…cared.
“I’m not sure what is going on here, but Hannah shouldn’t be upset,” Trevor said in a calm voice. “You will have to leave.”
So he was here in a medical role? Really? Surely not.
Hannah’s father rose up to his full height and turned on Trevor. She had no idea how or why he was back here, but she needed the distraction. Anything to get rid of her father so she could get out of this room.
“Do you know who I am?” her father said coolly in his I’ll-cut-you-into-ribbons-and-feed-you-to-the-dog tone of voice.
“No, and I don’t particularly care. That you have lost control and are shouting at a level that is upsetting to other patients several rooms down is not only unacceptable but shows that you might need help yourself,” Trevor snapped, his gaze locked on her father as if he knew a python struck with a speed that most of its victims underestimated.
“He’s my father,” Hannah muttered out loud. Inside she wanted to bounce up on the bed and cheer. Someone had actually stood up to her father.
And she would as soon as she got over the shock.
Of course he’d pay for this show of spirit. If not right now, in a few days Will would visit him and take care of the job himself. No one crossed her father. Not and lived to tell about it.
He fed on fear.
She should know. She’d been spoon-fed that shit since birth. But it was only after Will’s arrival in her life that she’d had a steady diet of it.
*
Trevor knew better than to take his gaze off this man. He had no idea where the asshole came from or what his point in hauling Hannah out of the hospital was, but he’d be damn sure to check out what and how and why. If Hannah didn’t want to be admitted to the sanatorium then someone had to be an advocate on her behalf. Trevor was a lawyer and a psychologist. The combination gave him many tools to deal with power hungry assholes like this one in front of him.
Unfortunately, the world was full of them. The psychologist in him gave him an insight that helped him to deal with the patients’ legal issues in the courts. He often represented patients in this hospital.
The administrators might not know about what was going on, but they would within minutes of him getting these men out of here.
“Who the hell are you?” One of the two men standing guard, and yeah, there was no other word for it, stepped into the front and shoved his face into Trevor’s.
He never took his gaze off the father, instead he lowered his own tones to just above glacial and snapped, “I’m Hannah’s lawyer.”
Silence.
He’d have laughed if he could.
Hannah’s father’s shock was complete. As if no one had ever bucked him or his plans. Well,
it was damn time. The guard interestingly backed off slightly and glanced at the boss as if saying, you’d better handle this.
“I will have my team of lawyers contact you,” Hannah’s father said. “My daughter is leaving here now. Today.”
Trevor reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a card. “Here’s my contact information.”
The card was snatched from his hand and the men stormed out. Trevor released his breath and turned to look at Hannah. She had the blankets pulled up to her chin, a wide-eye look on her face.
“Thank you,” she said. “It was an honor to see someone stand up – no matter how uselessly – to my father.”
He studied her. “Uselessly?”
“No one blocks him,” she said bitterly. “I’ll be loaded up and hauled out of here this afternoon, and there won’t be a damn thing I or you can do about it.”
“Have you so little faith in the law?” he asked curiously, walking toward her.
“I have a great deal of knowledge of my father and the men who work for him.” She nodded toward the open doorway. “The one who spoke to you is someone who will attack you in an alleyway late at night.”
Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “Interesting. I don’t suppose you have any proof of such activities, do you?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t. I have nothing to my name legally to prove who I am at the moment either, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know who I am.”
He sat down on the side of her bed. “You went to Stefan for help. But this is slightly out of his bailiwick. So he came to me.”
She studied him. “He thought I needed a lawyer?”
“Not quite.” He grinned. “I’m also a psychologist. And an energy worker.”
She blinked but didn’t say anything to that last bit, making him wonder if she understood what that meant. “And it seems to me that at the moment, Stefan was right in that I’m likely to be someone who can help you.”
“What would you want in exchange?” she asked hesitantly.
“Well, Stefan said he owed you a dollar and gave it to me instead on your behalf,” he lied blithely. “So, in fact, you have me on retainer to represent you in your legal issues. As for payment beyond that, well if you’re as broke as you appear to be, then this will need to be a pro bono case.”
“And why would you do this?” Her gaze narrowed in consideration. “You don’t know me.”
“And therefore I can’t help you? If you understood my skill sets, you’d realize I’m just a sucker for helping people.”
“Do you collect stray dogs too?”
He laughed, thinking about the menagerie he had at home. “In fact, I do. But I’m an equal opportunity savior, I am ruled by three cats and two birds as well as four dogs.”
She gasped then laughed.
He grinned at the sound. It was a little rusty but held such joy he wanted to hear it again.
“I wouldn’t have said being a lawyer meant that you wanted to help people,” she said slowly when she could. There was a smile on her face as she said it, but there was a note of caution, too, as if she were afraid of insulting him. “My father’s lawyers come into the category of barracudas.”
“See, that’s the thing about the legal profession, there is room for barracudas and saviors. Often we’re pitted against each other.”
“And you like a challenge,” she said in wry tones.
“I do. And I’m a sucker for waifs. Particularly for ones who thought they killed a friend of mine and left bloody fingerprints all over his doorway.”
And for the second time in the last few minutes silence reigned.
Chapter 6
She didn’t know what to say, so said nothing.
After a long moment he picked up the conversation. “Your father is planning on putting you into a sanatorium, is that correct?”
“If that is a cushy private hospital that I’m not allowed to leave, then that would be correct.”
“Why?”
This was where it got a little tricky. “He thinks I’m mentally unfit to live my own life,” she said quietly, sadly.
“And are you?”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m fine. I did without him for most of the last year, and I can do without him for the next many years too.”
“Then why commit you?”
She could feel the intensity of his gaze, that indomitable will of his saying he needed information from her and he’d get it one way or another. But maybe not through violence. At least she hoped so.
“He controls my money…” she started to explain then fell silence.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” but her voice slowed with uncertainty.
He turned to look at her. “You are twenty-five or will be twenty-five soon.”
She blinked. “I am…” She frowned and fell silent.
He studied her and she felt that same intensity. Then he said something that surprised her. “Today is Friday, May seventeenth if that helps.”
It did. A lot. In one way. In another, not at all. Like what happened to the last few days. Where the hell had she been in the meantime? And why?
“My birthday is Monday,” she said quietly. “My trust fund is supposed to come to me at that time. Unless as my father says, ‘I’m not competent to handle the responsibility.’”
“And is your father short on money?”
She raised her eyebrows then shook her head wildly. “No, not at all. He doesn’t need my money. He’s probably a billionaire by now.”
“So getting his hands on your trust fund has nothing to do with his wanting to lock you up?”
“No, he’s been looking after it all this time anyway.” She glared out the window. “I’d like to think he wants to lock me up because he thinks that’s the best thing for me, but…”
“But?”
She winced. “It’s hard to believe anymore.”
“I understand.” What it did sound like was more of a powerful father bending another to his will. But to what purpose Trevor had no idea. Surely there was more to this than anything so simple. Why lock her up? To get her out of his way? Maybe to force her to do something and releasing her would be the reward?
“He really thinks you’re a danger to others?” He eyed her carefully. “Somewhere in all this is the truth. Everyone has secrets. I get it. But some are more dangerous than others.”
She nodded but wouldn’t look at him.
“Why does he think you are dangerous?” When she still refused to raise her gaze to him, he pushed deeper. “Have you hurt anyone else in the past?”
She sighed. “A little.”
“A little,” he said with a note of humor. “How little and who?”
She shrugged. “I’m actually not sure who. Someone who worked for my father apparently. A maid.”
“Apparently?” Now he sounded fed up. “The truth,” he snapped. “Now.”
“I don’t know it. It was a long time ago.” She lifted her gaze. “Apparently the maid was clearing my room, and I went off my rocker and attacked her. Supposedly I stabbed her.”
“Supposedly?”
She nodded but stared at him defiantly.
“Were the police ever brought in?”
She shook her head. “No, Father handled it all.”
“And you can’t remember anything about it.”
“According to the maid and everyone who was there at the time, I was in some kind of altered state,” she said in cool tones. “They spoke to me but I didn’t respond. It’s as if I were sleepwalking. When I came out of that state, I knew nothing about what had happened.”
*
“Interesting.” Very interesting. Sleepwalking was a possibility if she’d actually been sleeping. “But I presume you weren’t sleeping as the maid was cleaning your room.”
“No, I was doing homework. Came off my chair and attacked her without warning.”
She stared out the window moodily. “I still don’t understand w
hat happened.”
“And has it ever happened again?” He hoped not as one incident could be written off as an anomaly but if it had happened again, not so much.
“I don’t know if I ever attacked anyone, but I have had episodes where I black out and don’t remember anything. Anyone.” She stared at him. “Do you know what that’s like? To not know what I might have done and with whom. To not remember anything?”
He shook his head immediately. “No, I don’t. It’s never happened to me.”
“Right. It’s not something that happens to anyone else,” she said bitterly. “I’m just the lucky one.”
“How long do the episodes last?”
Her breathing hitched. And he knew he’d hit a nerve again. There was more hidden in here. If only he could get her to tell him. He waited patiently, then added, “Are we talking minutes, hours?”
At her look, he said in a low voice, “Days?”
She waited.
“Shit. Weeks?”
She nodded.
“And no warning?”
How the hell did she function like that? Maybe her father had a reason to be worried.
She shook her head again. “I never have a warning until I open my eyes and find myself somewhere I don’t recognize. People who have seen me during my episodes, say I act completely normally so I don’t know if I’m blacking out or just losing memories. It’s not like the specialist can tell, and believe me I’ve spoken to my share of those.”
“That’s a possibility, though. Memory lapses could explain some of what is going on as to why you appear normal during the time frame.”
“I like that one better than the other options,” she said. “But as I don’t know what I was doing during these times, I don’t know if I am hurting anyone.”
She leaned forward, her gaze pleading for him to understand. “I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone. If the only option to save the rest of the world is to keep myself locked up and away then fine, but why does it have to be in one of those places,” she wailed.