by Kari Lemor
“Tell me what Jonathan’s done for the past few days. He must have gotten the poison somewhere. We need to figure out where.”
She sighed, her eyes roaming the ceiling as if trying to recall a memory. “Yesterday we were home all day. It was Saturday so I didn’t need to work and he doesn’t go to school. It was kind of chilly so we stayed inside and made cookies. I let him watch children’s movies and read him about a million stories. It was a super nice day for the two of us.”
Her recitation made him swallow hard. He’d kill for a day like that with his son. For a day like that with Callie too. So often they’d snuggled up on her couch and watched movies, simply enjoying being together. It was how she knew what a softy he was. He’d loved the quiet time and had told her often enough.
“Today,” she began again then glanced at her watch, “or maybe now it’s yesterday, we went down to the community center to have breakfast and socialize. A bunch of retired people go every week and they love seeing Jonathan. He gets off on the attention they give him when he sings and dances around the room.”
“Did you have the same thing to eat as him? Do you know if anyone else got sick?”
Callie stroked her hand down his back and he tried to suppress the shiver it caused. Amazing. It could make him forget almost anything. But not the fact their son was lying here incredibly sick.
“The doctor asked me the same questions. I ate everything he ate. He usually eats from my plate. His appetite doesn’t warrant an adult serving. And they checked to see if there were any other reports of these symptoms. None so far, though he said it sometimes can take up to a few days for symptoms to show up. They probably showed up in Jonathan quicker because he’s smaller.”
“So, you could be sick too?” he asked, his heart suddenly somewhere near his throat. “Did you have them do a blood test on you, too?”
Callie nodded. “The doctor insisted on it. It was negative so he didn’t think the drug came from the food.”
So where had Jonathan gotten the poison from? “Did he have anything you didn’t have? Anything at all? Like a piece of candy or fruit? Did any of the retired people give him something?”
Callie’s eyes roamed the ceiling again. “They don’t usually have anything except what the community center offers. He ate what I ate…although he did have a juice box. One of the workers was handing them out to the kids. I hadn’t seen this guy before but there’s always lots of turnover in volunteers when we go.”
“A juice box?” His mind went into overdrive. She’d said no one else had come down with the same symptoms as Jonathan so had he been the only one with tainted juice? And why? Why would someone want to hurt their child? One answer kept jumping out at him, loud and clear. He was the reason. Someone knew Jonathan was his son and was trying to get to him through the child. But there wasn’t anyone beside Scott and Heather, and of course Callie, that knew. They’d never say anything, he’d bet his life on it. No one else—Steve. Steve knew.
Chapter 12
Damn that rat bastard. Fury raced through Jack’s veins. He’d trusted Steve with his life. And the life of the two people most precious to him. But was it him? They’d been together when he’d gotten the call from Scott and he’d seemed horrified and encouraged Jack to go to his son. Had he done this because he knew there would be some of Cabrini’s men here to grab him? How could he do this to a child when he had a few of his own?
Indecision warred in his head as he stared at the sleeping boy. Who was cruel enough to poison a two-year-old child? If Cabrini didn’t think Jonathan was his grandson, he’d say maybe the crime boss had done it. That piece of scum was capable of almost anything. Unfortunately, most of it they couldn’t prove. But had someone done it who worked for Cabrini, without the mobster’s knowledge? Trying to get in good with the head man by bringing in the guy who’d killed his son?
“Do you think it might have been in the juice box?” Callie’s voice brought him back to the present. “How would it get in there? And why were none of the other juice boxes affected?”
It would be easy enough to tamper with the box using a syringe and make it look like nothing had been touched. He doubted Callie had examined the box too closely before letting Jonathan drink it. Should he tell her his suspicions or keep quiet? If she knew, she could be more vigilant, but she could also become paranoid about every little thing. And she might even ask him to stay away from Jonathan completely. That was probably the right thing to do but how could he protect them if he couldn’t come near?
His jaw tightened, his decision made. He needed to push harder. Take more chances no matter the risk to him. Make every attempt to get more evidence so Cabrini couldn’t hurt them anymore. He needed to be with his family, Callie and Jonathan, or at least get Cabrini out of their lives. As soon as Jonathan was better, he’d dig deeper for the information needed, damn the consequences. And he’d have a little chat with Steve.
* * * *
Callie opened her eyes trying to get her bearings. She was in some sort of reclining chair and strange noises hissed and beeped around her. The sight of the hospital bed had her immediately sitting up, remembering. Jonathan was sick.
Jack sat on the side of the bed, his hands cradling Jonathan’s tiny ones. He’d been in that exact position, was it a few hours ago? Glancing at her watch she noted it was past seven in the morning. Somehow she’d managed to sleep for a few hours.
How she’d relaxed enough to fall asleep, she wasn’t sure, but Jack’s solid presence watching over their son, enabled her to let go of the worry long enough to slumber. Holding her long into the night, he’d finally insisted she lie in the recliner to rest. After giving in, she’d nodded off. The dark circles under his eyes indicated he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all though.
Lifting the blanket draped over her, she got up. Had Jack put this on her? It hadn’t been there when she’d sat down to rest. But then she’d been so exhausted, physically and emotionally, she was surprised she could remember her name.
Jack turned his head as she walked closer to the bed. His eyes were bloodshot and droopy and his hair looked as if he’d run his hands through it all night. Most likely he had. It was a habit of his when he was anxious.
“Hey, Calico, you got some sleep. Good.”
She moved closer but decided touching Jack first thing in the morning, before she’d had her coffee, might have disastrous results. Making any decisions before the caffeine hit her blood stream wasn’t wise.
“But you didn’t, am I right?”
He gave a tired shrug. “I wanted someone to be aware if Jonathan woke up.”
Her stomach clenched. “He hasn’t woken up at all yet?”
“No, but the doctor came in about an hour ago and checked him out. They took more blood samples. He said it could be a while before he wakes up. His body is keeping him asleep so it can heal.”
“Did the doctor say he would wake up, though?” She didn’t actually want the answer. Well, she wanted one answer but not the other. Could she handle it if Jonathan didn’t wake up? No. It was hard enough keeping herself together now. If her son didn’t get better, they’d be scraping her off the floor.
Jack reached out, pulling on her hand until she was flush against his side. Like yesterday when he’d first gotten here, he settled her on his leg. No resistance then, no resistance now. If he had bad news, he’d have to hold her up. No way could she stand on her own. She wasn’t that strong.
“He doesn’t know, Calico.” Jack’s usually strong voice was rough and filled with emotion. It scared her. He’d been her rock while she was spying on Angelo and she’d counted on him to keep her strong too. If he broke down now, how would she ever survive?
“He didn’t say much,” he continued after clearing his throat. “He checked his vital signs but said it was too soon to tell with someone this small. They don’t know exactly what damage has been done yet. If
any of it will be permanent.”
Sucking in a shaky breath, she leaned farther against Jack. His arms tightened around her and she rested her head against his shoulder. He stroked his hand up and down her back in little circles, his attempt at comfort. She simply needed him. His being here was more comfort than she’d had in a long time.
“I can’t lose him, Jack,” she sobbed. “He’s all I have.”
Jack looked away, his jaw clenched. She’d hurt his feelings. But the truth was she didn’t have him. Never really had. And even if he didn’t have this price hanging over his head, she wasn’t sure if they could be happy together. He lived a life of excitement and danger. Not what she wanted. Calm and boring never sounded so good.
“You won’t, Callie, he’ll be fine. I promise. The doctors will do everything they can to get him back to normal.”
Pushing herself from his grip, fear and anger pulsed through her and she glared. “You don’t know that. You aren’t a doctor. And what do you know about what’s normal for Jonathan? You’re hardly ever around. Maybe if you were, Jonathan wouldn’t have ingested the poison and be lying in that bed dying right now.”
She slapped her hand over her mouth as the words gushed forth. Pain slashed across his features and he closed his eyes, looking away. Why did you say that? Look what you did. Her son being ill was agony to her and she wanted to hurt someone else. It shouldn’t have been Jack but he’d been convenient. And he hasn’t been around. She pushed that little voice aside, no matter how much truth it spouted.
Standing slowly, his shoulders sagged, defeated. Never had she seen him this way. She lifted one hand but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Jack, I didn’t …”
“No, you’re right.” His face was set in stone. “I’ve been a lousy father to our son. Not by choice, but maybe it would be best if I simply walked away for good.”
Taking a few steps toward the door, he glanced back at the boy in the bed. Moisture glistened on his long lashes and she couldn’t let him go like this. Touching his arm, she gave him a tentative smile.
“No, you shouldn’t go. I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. It’s because I’m scared. Jonathan is everything to me. I needed someone to blame and you’re handy.”
She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks, knowing the pain she’d caused Jack. Would he walk out, leaving her alone or would he stay even though it risked his life?
Heaving a sigh, he slid his arm around her shoulder, tugging her closer. Needing his warmth and comfort, she leaned in, wrapping her arms around his back, clinging to the fabric of his shirt. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled again.
“It’s okay to be scared, Calico,” he whispered, his lips near her ear. “I am too. More than I’ve ever been. I’ll help you through it if you’ll help me.”
All she could do was nod. Memories of when her parents had died flooded through her, the loneliness creeping back inside. But back then she hadn’t had a strong pair of arms to hold her tight. Now she did. It made all the difference in the world. Someone was here who understood exactly how she felt. Because even if Jack couldn’t be around his son, he loved Jonathan as much as she did.
They stood there, for how long she had no idea, arms around each other, supporting and comforting. It wasn’t until a soft moan from near the bed sounded that they released their grips.
“Jonathan?” Rushing over to the boy she leaned down to touch him. Jack followed, flanking the other side of the bed.
“Mama?” The cry was low and confused as the child lifted his hand to push the oxygen mask away.
“Don’t worry, pal,” Jack reassured him, gently removing the boy’s hand and replacing the mask. “This is giving you some extra good air to breathe. It’s going to help you get better. You’ve been sick.”
“Dahdee?” Jonathan’s mouth attempted to lift at the corners but he was too weak. Her heart ached for her son but rejoiced at the same time that he was awake.
“Yes, mommy and daddy are both here. We’ve been waiting for you to wake up, sleepyhead.”
Jack held Jonathan’s tiny hand in one of his then slid his other to grasp hers. “And we’re going to stay right here with you, pal, until you get better. We both love you very much.”
She squeezed Jack’s hand, knowing his promise wasn’t an easy one. If she knew him though, he’d do everything he could to keep it. The words he’d said filled her with warmth. Then disappointment seeped in, wishing just once he’d said them to her.
* * * *
“Victor, I thought you were away on business.”
Heather’s voice rang loud and clear from the hallway and Jack’s stomach clenched. The mob boss couldn’t find him here in Jonathan’s hospital room. His gaze flew to Callie, who jumped up from the chair, her eyes frantic.
Slipping into the bathroom, he closed the door most of the way, thankful Jonathan had been moved to a regular room in the children’s ward. He should have left before now but he’d promised his son he’d stay with him. That might have been a deadly mistake.
Heather was still talking to Victor in the hallway, stalling no doubt. Callie’s sweet voice stopped her friend from further conversation.
“Victor, I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until the end of the week.”
Footsteps entered the room, the voices closer. Shit.
“I finished up my business early so I could come back and make sure my grandson was recovering nicely. I have a feeling you didn’t elaborate in the text to make me feel better.”
“I know how important your work is to you, Victor. I wouldn’t want you to lose some business deal because Jonathan was sick. I’d feel terrible.”
Jack kept the snort to himself. Losing every business deal and then some was his goal for Cabrini. And soon he’d find a way to do that. When his son was better, he’d get right back into digging again.
The conversation between Victor, Callie and sometimes Heather continued as Jack shifted from foot to foot in the cramped, dark space. They were exchanging niceties and Jack marveled at how calm Callie sounded. But then she’d been dealing with Victor for a few years and must have honed her skills. She shouldn’t have to do this.
Jonathan was tired and cranky and kept calling out, “Dahddy.” Jack held his breath each time it happened.
“Your doggy is right here, sweetie.”
Good thing he’d bought the small stuffed dog for Jonathan when he first got sick. Callie was obviously using it as a ruse, so Victor wouldn’t realize the child kept calling out for his father. Guess it worked.
“I’ll let the boy get some rest, Callina. But please make sure to call me if he gets worse. I can have better doctors flown in here.”
“I will, Victor. But the doctors here have been wonderful and say Jonathan will make a full recovery with enough rest. Thank you for coming today.”
“I think I’ll use the restroom in here before I leave. It’s a two-hour ride back home and I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Jack froze, panic setting in. He pressed himself close to the wall. Shit. Get yourself out of this one, stupid. What would the ramifications be to Callie and Jonathan if he was caught?
Heather’s voice broke in as the door began to open. “They told us no one except the patients were supposed to use these bathrooms, Victor. There are some down the hall for the public.”
“Nonsense. No one will know. The boy isn’t even using the bathroom. He’s wearing diapers, for pity’s sake.”
The door crept closer to him and Jack’s muscles tensed. There wasn’t much more he could do besides push Victor aside and run. As much as he wanted to kill the man so all his suffering would go away, he’d be damned if he would do it in front of his child. Maybe if he could get Victor to follow him out of the building, he might have a chance. At this point he didn’t care if he had to spend the rest of his life in jail
for killing him. His son and Callie would be free from his interference.
“Victor, was that your chauffeur who walked by the room?” Heather asked.
Jack let out the breath he’d been holding as Victor retreated.
“My chauffeur? Are you sure?”
“Oh, maybe it wasn’t. It looked like him.”
“I suppose I should make sure it wasn’t. It might be something important. I’ll see you later, Callina.” Victor sounded annoyed. “Heather, a pleasure as always.”
Jack stifled his laugh. Victor wasn’t a huge fan of Heather’s. The woman was too blunt and vocal about her opinions.
Victor left and Jack waited a few more minutes as a nurse had come in. She checked Jonathan’s vitals and removed his half-eaten lunch. He moved closer to the door and when Callie’s anxious face appeared, he smiled at her.
“Are you all right, Calico?”
She nodded but the fear still remained. “I didn’t know what to do when he showed up, Jack. What if he’d seen you in there?”
“We had Heather to ward him off.” Don’t let your fear show. He looked around the room. “Where is she?”
“Right here,” Heather answered as she poked her head in the door then slipped inside, closing it behind her. “I followed him out to make sure he didn’t forget anything this time. I heard what happened the day after Jonathan’s birthday party. We didn’t need a repeat. It’s safe though, he left.”
“Thanks, Heather. See, Callie, everything is fine.”
She didn’t seem convinced and he hated to admit she was right. Things could have gone down the toilet quickly. Maybe he should leave. Jonathan was on the mend and would be out of here in a few days. The child didn’t need him sitting around watching him.
“I should go,” he said, wanting anything but. It was difficult to hide his desire to be with his son.
“Dahddy.” Jonathan’s speech was becoming clearer as he grew. They wouldn’t be able to shrug off what he said much longer. The child whined and lifted his arms in a plea to be held.