The Art of Going Home (The Art of Living series Book 1)

by Nicole Sorrell

  I didn’t volunteer anything more. His frown indicated he wasn’t buying it; the concern I saw earlier in his eyes had vanished. “Did you see the photographs I found?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he admitted.

  “Then you understand how utterly sick and dangerous my father is. I didn’t remember what happened when I was a child until I saw the picture of the three us. He’d been raping Angeline. I was understandably very angry. That’s why I confronted him when he came home. He didn’t deny it.”

  “What did Mr. Chandler say to your accusation?”

  “It’s not an ‘accusation.’ The photos prove it’s the truth,” I said belligerently. “I told him I found the pictures, and I’d use them to expose him as a pedophile who repeatedly abused his daughter. He… ” I trailed off, frowning.

  “Go on,” demanded the detective.

  “I don’t know. I don’t recall what was said after that. I do remember his face. He was enraged that I would dare disparage him. Are you investigating him for being a pedophile and sexual predator?”

  “No, I’m handling the inquiry into the shooting.”

  “Don’t you mean attempted murder?” I asked.

  “We haven’t classified it as such.” I was so shocked at this, I didn’t hear his next question until he repeated it. “Ms. Chandler? I asked who was present at the time of the shooting.”

  With effort, I called my attention back to him. “Um, besides myself there was Zac, Father, and Lauren. I don’t know her last name. She’s Deborah’s daughter, Zac’s half-sister. She came to the house with Father. And what do you mean it’s not considered attempted murder? Have you caught him?”

  He didn’t answer that, saying, “You had a dream about your sister which you say compelled you to search your father’s house. Why?” He heaved the question at me like it was an indictment.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! Of course he would have to ask why.

  Chapter 25

  I DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD be a good idea to tell him my dead twin told me to find pictures in her room. “The details of my dream were very fuzzy.” I fabricated the lie as I went along. “Angeline was in it, and she was killed. It was very distressing because I couldn’t save her. When I woke up, I was badly shaken. I missed her and wanted a keepsake of hers to ease my mind. I didn’t search the whole house. I only looked around her room.”

  “Uh huh.” He sounded like he didn’t believe me. “Were you searching for your father’s gun?”

  WHAT? “Good God, no!” I cried. “I didn’t know he owned a gun.”

  The detective regarded me dubiously, his eyes critical. “You had a nightmare which you claim triggered a need to search for something belonging to your sister, went to your father’s house, entered through the basement knowing he was not at home, found pictures that you say prove he’s a pedophile, confronted him, and he shot you.”

  I was amazed by the way he made my actions sound suspicious. All I could do was nod. I had the uncomfortable feeling he thought I’d gotten myself shot on purpose.

  “I’ll be in touch if there are any more questions. Thank you for your time.”

  He snapped shut the notepad and opened the door before I could ask what it took to classify a shooting as attempted murder if putting a bullet through someone wasn’t enough. Detective Hanson was gone.

  Staring around the empty room, I wanted to scream. If Father somehow managed to evade justice, I wouldn’t let him get away with it. So help me God, I wouldn’t rest until I chased him down myself to exact retribution. It was a promise.

  I didn’t have long to stew about it. Soon another man entered my room. He looked vaguely familiar, yet I couldn’t place him. He was in his late thirties, tall, and neatly dressed in khaki slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. He wore wire glasses.

  “Madisen Chandler?” he asked eagerly.

  “Who’s asking, please?”

  He stepped forward and offered his hand. “I’m Jayce Phelps from the Clantonville News. Everyone in the community is concerned for you. I wanted to get your comments.”

  Then I recognized him. His picture was sometimes put alongside his byline in the paper. I stared at him stonily and didn’t take his hand. He let it drop. “I have nothing to say. I’m not interested in being an object of curiosity,” I said bluntly.

  He looked surprised. “Don’t you want to tell your story? To let the truth be known?”

  “The truth was never a concern for the all the gossips in town,” I said. “Anything you put in the paper won’t change that.”

  “Please, a few minutes is all it will take. Can you tell me what caused the conflict between you and your father?” he asked as he pulled a small recorder from his pocket. “Your relationship with him has been distant. Why were you at his house? What took place before he got out the…?”

  As he continued to throw questions at me, I pressed the call button repeatedly. To my relief, in a few seconds a male nurse opened the door with an irritated grunt. He quickly took in the situation as Mr. Phelps’s last query hung in the air.

  “This reporter is bothering me,” I told him. “Can you ask security to escort him out? And would you please be sure no other reporters are allowed to enter my room?”

  He opened the door wide and gave Phelps a pointed stare. Phelps stood looking between me and the nurse with an open mouth. He glanced at me one last time in frustration as he walked rigidly through the door.

  “Anything else?” the nurse asked.

  “No, thanks,” I replied drily. “That’ll do it.”

  ~~~

  I still didn’t have a roommate by the following day, which was Sunday. The nurses had me walk around the ward a few times so I wouldn’t stiffen up and to help me heal.

  After they took away my barely touched breakfast of tasteless congealed cereal that I had guessed was oatmeal and stale white toast, Tabs sashayed into the room. Wearing short shorts and a breezy top, she carried a bouquet of multicolored balloons anchored to a minute teddy bear along with my purse and a plastic shopping bag.

  “Hi, honey! How are you?” she asked cheerily.

  “It’s great to see you!” I squealed. “I’m doing much better, now that you’re here. It hurts a little, nothing I can’t handle. I have great pain killers, so I sleep a lot. The hardest part is the boredom when I’m awake.”

  “I brought a couple of books for you to read. Thought you’d also want your purse and makeup. I brought your hairbrush, shampoo, and styling products.” She set everything on the narrow table over the bed. “And, I snuck this in for you.” She handed me a familiar brown and green paper cup with a white lid. “There’s a coffee shop across the street. It’s a white mocha with an extra shot of espresso.”

  I could’ve kissed her! I took a gulp, and my eyes rolled back in my head. It was bliss. The warm chocolaty goodness slid lazily over my tongue and down my throat to my very happy tummy.

  “You have no idea how good that tastes. They won’t let me have coffee, which should be a human rights violation. You’re a saint,” I said with a grin.

  “That’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.” She laughed, tossing her head. “You look better, and your color is good. How are you doing, emotionally I mean?” She brought one of the chairs up to the bed and sat down.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I already knew I wasn’t Father’s favorite person. Obviously, I’m grateful he didn’t succeed in doing away with me. Have they found him? Is he locked up?”

  “No, he must be in hiding. They haven’t been able to track him down. Zac said the police and highway patrols in neighboring states were notified, and the airports and bus stations were alerted. They haven’t located his car, either.”

  “He’s probably holed up with one of his criminal clients. Anyway, enough about all that. What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m quite popular now,” she said. “Since I’m the best friend of the most famous person in the county. Everyone wants to ask me what happened and see how y
ou’re doing. The shooting made the front page of the weekend paper, as well as three related articles inside.” I groaned, remembering the reporter I refused to speak to yesterday. “Don’t worry,” she said, knowing how I hated being the local topic of discussion. “Most people I talked to are honestly concerned about you.”

  “Which means, of course, that other people wanted information so they could claim that I’ve…” I switched my voice to mimic Caroline Van Horne’s uppity nasal tone. “…defamed the wholesome reputation of our law-abiding community and am clearly beyond reform.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know the Van Horne’s will never change. They haven’t had anything this juicy to gossip about since Mayor Davis had an affair with his stepson’s wife, way back in two thousand and nine. Honey, no one blames you. Your father’s the bad guy in all of this.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Caroline and Elaine will come up with something more vicious than that,” I said. “They’ll turn it around somehow and say it was my fault.” Damn small towns and their rumor mills. Why couldn’t people mind their own business, instead of always minding mine?

  “Most likely,” she said. “Though everyone surely knows that’s ridiculous. By the way, I’m surprised Zac and the Redondos aren’t here.”

  “I told the nurse I didn’t want to see him or any of the family.” Her reaction was worse than I expected.

  She didn’t say anything.

  She just stared at me. The longer she glowered, the more her nostrils flared and the madder she seemed to grow. I thought I should try to stop the coming storm before it transformed into a full-fledged hurricane.

  “Tabs, don’t be mad at me,” I started, which was stupid because she already was. “Zac and I had a huge fight, and I’m not sure it’s something I’ll ever be able to forgive.”

  Her anger diminished somewhat. “What was the fight about?”

  “He kept something a secret that he didn’t have the right to hide from me. They all did.”

  “What was it?” She couldn’t quash her curiosity.

  “I can’t tell you,” I said.

  She appeared to be completely flabbergasted, which quickly changed to hurt. “Hellfire, Maddie! We’ve been best friends since we were in the fifth grade. We’ve never kept anything from each other. Just say it.”

  “This is different. It’s something I didn’t know about myself. Well, I did and I didn’t, I guess.” She looked puzzled. “I know, it’s convoluted. I’m tremendously angry at all of them, and I can’t deal with them right now.”

  “Madisen Chandler,” she said harshly, pointing her finger. “You listen to me. Zac has been out of his mind with worry. All of the Redondos have. They’ve treated you like family since you were itty bitty. Whatever they did, it would never justify you shutting all of them out of your life like this. Or me, for that matter.”

  I sighed. “Please? It’s very upsetting. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s…”

  “What?” she pressed.

  “Humiliating. I don’t want to discuss it.”

  I didn’t think she was going to let it go. After a pause, she said in an injured voice, “All right. Because you’ve been through so much we’ll save it for later.”

  We chatted about my surgery, and I assured her everything would heal with no complications. Fingers crossed.

  When the conversation lagged, I sought to ease the tension by complimenting her cute strappy sandals that looked brand new. My tactic didn’t work the way it usually did. I decided not to tell her about the visits the day before from Detective Hanson and the reporter, Jayce Phelps. She would probably ask additional questions I didn’t want to answer, and I’d hurt her even more. God, Madisen, you’re such a moron.

  Using the flimsy excuse that she needed to get home early, Tabs left. She couldn’t hide that she was offended. Having her upset with me put me out of sorts. I wished Aunt Ceci were there with a reassuring hug. I missed her.

  Chapter 26

  ON MONDAY, I ASKED the nurse to send a medical excuse to Leo for my absence at work. I also sent Porsche a text, explaining I’d be out for a few more days because I was under doctor’s orders not to fly. I assured her it was nothing serious and I would tell her all about it as soon as I got back to San Antonio. I was too much of a coward to call her. I couldn’t risk that she’d want to know things I was unwilling to face at that moment. Your life is pathetic.

  In the evening, Jennifer and Jacob came to see me, with Katie in tow. It was especially nice of them to take the time to drive in, and I gushed about how much I appreciated it. I steered the conversation to things like the Wybeck’s party on Friday and away from anything serious. The distraction helped a lot to take my mind off my worries about Tabs and Father.

  Aside from visitors, my stay in the hospital practically bored me out of my skull. Three women occupied the other bed in the room during my stay. Beyond introducing ourselves, they weren’t there long enough have much conversation.

  I tried not to agonize over what Angeline had endured at Father’s hands. It was impossible to put the horror of it completely out of my mind. Also, anger at the Redondos simmered. And Zac? I didn’t want to go there. Well, denial was a viable option, I thought sarcastically. I’d recently learned that ignoring unpleasant things was something I was good at. After all, you managed to hide from the truth for almost twenty years. That made me feel worse than ever.

  Reading the two tattered paperbacks Tabs had left for me provided a distraction. I finished them in a few hours. They were romance novels, and I wondered if she was sending me a not-so-subtle message. I had nothing else to do except watch TV and sleep. Hospitals aren’t great places to recuperate. Nurses must be able to sense when patients are resting well, because that’s when they come in to check vitals, draw blood, or give medication. It was disconcerting how tired I was. Getting shot takes a lot out of a person.

  Wednesday after lunch, Dr. Ellis checked on me and said I was healing much faster than he’d expected. After I wore him down with begging and pouting, he agreed to discharge me on the condition I make a follow-up appointment with him on Monday. I had strict instructions to rest in the meantime, which meant no exercise other than the slow walking the nurses had me doing every day. I was to continue to do this three times a day for ten minutes. He said I could return to San Antonio next week if everything looked okay, and once there, I had to schedule an appointment with my own physician.

  I immediately sent Tabs a message asking her to start the trip to the hospital as soon as she got off work. I couldn’t wait to get back to my hotel. I wouldn’t be so bored, and could get some uninterrupted sleep.

  It took the rest of the day and early evening for the paperwork to get processed. My clothes were brought to me in the midafternoon. I was depressed when I pulled them from the plastic bag. The shirt I’d had on was ruined by the bullet holes and blood stains, and my jeans had been thoroughly soaked with blood. They’d been cut down the right side almost to the knee to allow the EMT’s access to my injury. I threw them in the trash.

  My bra was undamaged; it had a little blood on it that rubbed off from my shirt. I could wear it home. My panties were badly stained. At least they hadn’t been cut as my jeans had. I washed them in the bathroom sink with hand soap and hung them on the vanity knob.

  As they dried, I called down to the gift shop. I bought a T-shirt and a pair of scrub pants with my credit card, so I wouldn’t have to go home in my underwear. A hospital volunteer brought the new clothes to my room. When my panties were dry, I changed out of the hospital gown and waited impatiently.

  It seemed like a year before a nurse brought me a small bag with three pill bottles in it and a wheelchair and said I was ready to go. I set the medications in my lap, along with the stuff Tabs had brought, as he wheeled me down the hall to the elevator. I bounced my leg impatiently as it descended to the lobby. When the doors opened, I saw that Tabs wasn’t the one waiting to take me home.

  It was Zac.

&nbs
p; I was incensed. I was speechless for a moment, which was rare when I was mad. I managed to say thank you civilly to the nurse and waited until he was out of earshot.

  “Where’s Tabs?” I hissed.

  “She couldn’t make it,” Zac answered brusquely, wheeling me out the automatic doors to his truck parked a few feet away. “Unless you want to pay a taxi for a two-hour fare, you’re stuck with me.”

  I never dreamed Tabs would arrange for him to pick me up so I’d be forced to talk to him. Damn it to hell! You should’ve seen that one coming. Leave it to her to think she knew what was good for me in the romance department.

  If I’d had all my belongings with me, I would’ve refused to go with Zac and stayed at a nearby hotel. I considered calling Jennifer and Jacob or Katie to come get me. However, it was already almost eight o’clock in the evening. It would be well after midnight by the time they made the round trip, and they all had to get up for work tomorrow. I dismissed the idea.

  Fuming silently, I let Zac roll my chair around to the passenger door. I even managed not to squeak when he swiftly lifted me up from the wheelchair and placed me carefully on the seat.

  Once he was behind the wheel, he didn’t waste any time. Right away, he resumed our conversation from six days ago and launched into what I was sure would be a long lecture.

  “I didn’t lie to you, Maddie,” he said. “I never have. I care about you, very much. How could you think differently?”

  I pretended I didn’t hear him. He kept talking as he drove.

  “I didn’t find out it was possible you’d been abused until the spring break of my first year at college. I overheard Dad and Aunt Ceci discussing it and confronted them. They admitted it was highly feasible, but weren’t one-hundred-percent certain. Aunt Ceci did everything she could to protect you from your father, especially after Angeline’s death. She always encouraged you to talk to her.”

  Crap! I had to grit my teeth to hold back my sniffles when he mentioned Aunt Ceci. I missed her. I stared out the window and gulped back the scratchy lump in my throat. I wanted nothing more than for him to shut up.