by Rebecca Shea
“Aaron and I asked my father what was happening and he explained that he was good friends with Mrs. Christianson and she needed our help. I never even knew of Landon or Lindsay at this point. I was a few years older than Landon, so there was no reason we’d know each other,” he states.
“Aaron and I were really upset about being moved across the country and we didn’t even know why. As we later found out, my dad was helping her escape her abusive marriage. Over the course of the next year or so, there was not one conversation in our house that didn’t involve Landon and Lindsay and how to get them away from Captain Christianson. Aaron and I became second to Landon and Lindsay, two kids we didn’t even know—and we fucking hated it. My dad and Josie spent every minute discussing and planning how and what to do to get custody of them.” Adam stops speaking and looks at me seriously.
“Do you know how hard it was to lose my mom to cancer, but then lose my dad to two kids we never knew? Josie and he became obsessed with them; it was like a fucking pastime for them. The notes, the discussions, the plans… it consumed them. Aaron and I grew up in the same house with them, yet we were complete strangers.” My heart sinks as I listen to him admit how badly this hurt them, and right after losing their mother.
“Anyway, we moved back to North Carolina and Josie divorced. As the months and years passed, the talk of Landon and Lindsay died down, little by little—but Josie was always depressed and my dad always tended to her. I hated those kids, and I didn’t even know them. I just hated that they were everything to Josie and Josie was everything to my dad—which meant Aaron and I were always last.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, acknowledging his pain. “Why didn’t you tell me this when you first saw me with Landon?”
He shrugs. “What did you want me to say? Hey, you know that guy in your car, his mom is my stepmom and he doesn’t know it, and his dad was an abusive dickhead and I think maybe you shouldn’t see him.” I laugh at Adam and he laughs back.
“Okay, I can see where you might not want to share what you know, but Adam… he’s a great guy. He’s not his dad.” Adam stares at me and nods his head.
“Does Josie know you work with Landon’s girlfriend?”
“Nah, we don’t talk much—and even when we do, it’s never about Landon or Lindsay anymore.”
“Okay, good. I have a feeling she’s about to hear from Lindsay and I just need to understand what everyone knows. This is crazy, you know that, right?”
He nods his head again slowly. “Hell, yeah, it is. Now go get some rest and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. If I hear anything while you’re away, I’ll let you know.”
I check my phone damn near every minute, hoping that there will be a text message, a missed call, or a voicemail from Landon. Since he left yesterday I haven’t heard a word from him, and my heart is heavy at the thought that he was so easy to dismiss me and our baby. I fold a pair of jeans and place them in my suitcase, which is sitting at the end of my bed. The doorbell chimes and my heart skips a beat as I hope Landon stands on the other side of that door. Glancing through the peephole, I see Lindsay’s blonde hair whipping around violently in the wind, and she tries to steady herself against the pillar on the patio. I unlock the deadbolt and she bursts through the door just as I open it.
“Shit, there is a bad storm coming,” she says as she fights to untangle her long hair. I notice the dark clouds building in the sky as I shut the door.
“Why aren’t you at work?” I ask Lindsay, noticing her workout attire. She hangs her purse from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and walks to the fridge in the kitchen.
“Took the day off,” she says, leaning into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “Shit hit the fan this morning,” she announces as she twists off the cap from the water bottle and presses it to her lips.
“He told you?” I ask quietly.
“No, he didn’t need to. I knew when I dropped off those tests the other night. Congratulations by the way, Mama.” She chuckles.
“So what happened?”
“I met my mom.” I watch her for signs that she’s joking, a smirk, a crooked smile—anything. She’s serious.
“What? When?”
“I talked to her on the phone yesterday for a few minutes, but I invited her to the house and she talked to Landon and me this morning.”
“Holy. Shit,” I sputter. “What did she say? Better yet, what did Landon say?” She fidgets with the water bottle in her hands as she gathers her thoughts. “Come here, sit down.” I motion to the couches in the living room. She takes a seat and sinks into the large leather cushions.
“It was so surreal, Reagan. She told us everything,” she sighs. “Everything, meaning she explained why she left, how she tried to get us numerous times, what she’s been doing over the years, her relationship with Louis Gerard.”
“Do you believe her?” I ask cautiously, not wanting to come across that I think she’s lying.
“Yeah, I do, and I think Landon does too, which pisses him off. He wants a reason to hate her.”
“How long did you talk?”
“Not long, just about a half hour. Landon had to leave for work. I really should have waited to have them meet. He is so stressed out…” Her voice wanders off.
“About the baby,” I whisper.
“About everything,” she says firmly. “He’s got a lot going on in his life right now, but it’s not just the baby.”
“He left me you know—again.”
“He didn’t leave you, Reagan. He just needs some time to process all of this.”
“Well, how do you think I feel as I process all of this—alone. It’s not any less upsetting for me than it is for him—yet he seems to think it’s perfectly acceptable that every time the going gets tough, he can bail—take all the time he needs to think about things.” I realize I’ve raised my voice and I sound angry. Lindsay watches me carefully. “He doesn’t even realize how much I need him right now.” My voice cracks. “Just once, I need him to tell me this is going to be okay, that we’re going to be okay. I can’t always be the one to be strong, Lindsay.”
“Have you told him this?”
“I tried. I sent him a text message this morning to call me, but he hasn’t yet. Now I understand why, but I’m leaving for Minnesota in a couple of hours.”
“I didn’t think you were leaving until next weekend?”
“I wasn’t. But I changed my plans. I need to go where I can clear my head—where people won’t run from me when I drop a bomb on them. I need to go home.”
“Reagan.” Lindsay sits up and reaches out, placing her hand on my forearm. “I know this isn’t home with your family, but Landon and I will always be your home, here—in North Carolina.”
I snort sarcastically as I choke back tears. “Then why does he keep running from me? I’m done chasing him, Lindsay. I’m done.” Her eyes plead with me, yet she says nothing. “I have to finish packing,” I say quietly.
“What time is your flight?”
“Three thirty.”
“Can I at least drive you to the airport?”
“I’d appreciate that.” I smile at her.
“Good, go finish packing. I have to make some phone calls,” she says, jumping up from the couch. “I’ll be in your office; shout at me when you’re ready,” she says as she saunters down the hall to my home office.
“It has not rained like this in months,” Lindsay says as she grips the steering wheel, her knuckles white from fighting the wind that is damn near blowing her small sports car off the road.
“Take your time. I guarantee my flight will be delayed because of this weather.” She swerves hard to the left to avoid a tree limb that is lying in the road. The sudden shift causes my purse to fall from the back seat spilling its contents all over the floor of Lindsay’s car.
“Shit,” I mumble, unbuckling myself to reach around and pick up the scattered contents as I shove them back into my purse.
“Sorry,” sh
e says as she swerves back into our lane. “This weather is insane.”
“You’re doing great,” I encourage her. I’m nearly all the way turned around, trying to get the remaining items that are rolling around the floor when I hear Lindsay gasp, then scream. The car swerves suddenly and then I’m not sure what happens, but I know we’re rolling.
“Reagan.” I can hear Lindsay moaning as she calls my name. “Answer me.” Her voice is panicked, yet weak. “Reagan, oh God, please,” she cries. “Talk to me.”
My head hurts, my arm hurts, and my abdomen hurts. The pain is excruciating, so much so that all I can do is cry in pain.
“Reagan, please answer me.” Her voice breaks and she sobs. I feel her hand on my arm, but I’m so disoriented, I can’t tell where she is. It’s dark and I can hear the rain beating down on the car and the wind howling around us.
“Lindsay,” I mumble when her hand finds mine. She grasps onto my hand for dear life.
“I can’t find my phone,” she screams hysterically. Her voice is frantic. “I can’t move my leg.” I’m trying to process everything that is happening, and all I want to do is close my eyes and sleep. I fight the urge to do so as I try to remain calm and figure out what is happening.
“Breathe… try to calm yourself down,” I instruct Lindsay slowly. My words sound slurred and I have to really focus on what I’m trying to say. I know I shouldn’t close my eyes, but I have to.
My phone has been vibrating on and off in my pocket for the last ten minutes as I finish briefing everyone on the plans to serve a search warrant, and hopefully, take down one of Wilmington’s drug suppliers. I’ve got several detectives, my sergeant, SWAT, and even patrol all gathered together as I inform them how we’re going to do this. Everyone is in agreement about where they are supposed to be and when, and how this is going to go down.
“Thankfully, the weather is shitty, which hopefully means our guy will be home and not out and about,” I say as I look around the room at everyone. “Any questions?” Everyone seems prepared and, if all goes well, this should be a pretty clean bust—in and out, and hopefully, we’ll find the drugs we’re looking for.
“Good, let’s do this.” Everyone gathers their belongings and heads out of the old warehouse where we met and briefed. It’s just down the road from the house we’re planning to serve. My sergeant is off in the corner on his cell phone as I pull mine from my pocket. Seven missed calls from Matt. Just as I’m ready to stuff the phone back in my pocket, it rings again… Matt.
“Matt,” I answer. “Now’s not a good time; just going to serve a warrant.” I can hear his heavy breathing on the other end of the line.
“It’s Lindsay,” he says between sharp breaths. “And Reagan.”
“What about them?” My pulse quickens and my stomach turns. Instinctively, I know something is wrong. “They’ve been in a car accident. It’s bad, Landon.”
“How bad? Where are they? What the fuck is happening?” I scream at Matt. My sergeant pulls my cell phone from my hand and guides me toward the large metal door where our cars are parked just outside. I hear him mumble some words to Matt as he pushes me towards his car.
“Get in,” he says. Fear courses through me as we drive toward Memorial Hospital. My hands shake as a million things race through my mind. My sister, Reagan—my baby.
“What happened? What do you know?”
“I just got the call about the same time you did,” my sergeant states. He’s a no-nonsense kind of man. He always tells it like it is. “From what we know, it looks like the car lost control and flipped several times. It made impact with a tree. Both girls are alive, but it’s serious.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. My heart feels like it could jump out of my chest as we pull into the emergency department at the hospital. We pull right up to the doors where there is an ambulance parked and I jump out. Just inside the door sits a large circular admitting desk and nurses and doctors stand at the desk. I slap my badge on the counter and try to collect my thoughts.
“Lindsay Christianson and Reagan Sinclair,” I say. “Where are they?”
“Sir.” A young nurse steps towards me.
“I’m Lindsay’s brother. Detective Christianson.” I pound my badge on the desk. “And I’m Doctor Sinclair’s…”
“Sir, please calm down,” the nurse says. “We don’t know anything yet. They just arrived a few minutes ago. They are both in the care of the best doctors and, as soon as we know anything, you’ll be the first to know.” I run my hands over my face as I rest my elbows on the tall countertop.
“There’s a smaller private waiting room just down there.” The nurse points. “You can wait in there and I’ll send the doctors in as soon as we hear anything.” Her eyes are sympathetic as she gives me a half smile. “Come on,” she says, guiding me down the sterile corridor.
Opening the wooden door, which has a long glass panel down the middle of it, I take a seat in a hard chair. “I’ll let them know you’re in here,” the nurse says as she closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my hands.
As I wait to hear from a doctor, a nurse, anyone at this point, my mind races to the last time I saw Lindsay. I left angry this morning because she brought our mom to the house. I didn’t say goodbye to her and I was an asshole to her. However, unlike Reagan, I saw her today. I talked to her. Guilt washes over me as I think of how I left Reagan yesterday. I was abrupt and cold, and she was scared. I could see her fear written on her face. She was afraid, panicked, begging me to choose her and I fucking walked away from her.
My knee bobs up and down as I sit for what feels like hours and wait. Karma is a bitch. I think of the hours Reagan sat, alone, waiting to hear from me, and I was too wrapped up in my selfish world to think about how she must be feeling. My sergeant has been pacing the floor outside the room and I’ve been watching him walk back and forth past the window for the last hour or so. I’ve been frantically returning texts to Matt, who is just as anxious to find out what’s going on—but hasn’t been able to get to the hospital yet. I stand up and open the door. Stepping into the cool hallway, I walk in the opposite direction of the admitting desk, where I see Sergeant Daly leaning onto the counter, talking to the nurses.
The hallway is long, cold, and every door is closed. I don’t know exactly what I’m doing, or what I’m looking for. I just know I couldn’t sit for one more minute in that small room. I couldn’t breathe. There is a flutter of activity down at the end of the hallway and I freeze as I see a gurney being rolled into a room. A large door opens and the medical staff are positioned on all sides of the bed.
I press my back against the cold wall and close my eyes. I take a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, repeating that a couple of times. A sign catches my eye across the hall and I take two long strides and open the door. I step into the dimly lit room and shut the door behind me. The hospital chapel is quiet. There is a cross, a crucifix, and a Star of David all hanging on a wall behind a pulpit. I’ve never been religious—ever. But something called me to this room.
Taking a seat on the long wooden bench, I drop my head and pray. I pray for the first time in twenty years. I pray to God, begging him or her to spare Lindsay, Reagan, and my unborn baby. I make promises to be a better man, a better brother—and I promise to be a good father. The tears I’ve been holding back spill over and I choke back a sob.
Even though I’m stressed and I continue to wait, a sense of peace, of calm helps settle me down. I hear the door open and a quiet voice say, “There you are. We’ve been looking for you.” It’s the nurse who showed me to the waiting room earlier. I stand and offer a final silent prayer before stepping into the hallway. The nurse smiles at me. “Your sister is settled into a room, and you can see her now.”
We walk briskly down the hall and she opens a door, holding it open for me as I step inside. Lindsay lies in a bed, her head propped on a pillow. Her eyes slowly open when she hea
rs the door close as the nurse leaves. Another nurse stands next to the bed and jots notes into a chart as she checks the machines that Lindsay is hooked up to.
“Lan,” she whispers.
“I’m here.”
A tear slips from her eye as I approach.
“She’s a little out of it,” the nurse whispers as I get closer. “She’s on some good pain meds.”
“Morphine,” Lindsay slurs and the nurse chuckles. “I love morphine.”
“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute, but I’ll be back. Press the call button if you need anything.” She shakes her head and smiles at Lindsay, who is clearly not feeling much at this point.
“Thanks,” I say and wait for her to leave the room before I pull a chair from the corner up next to Lindsay’s bed and sit down. “Are you okay?”
She nods her head. “Sore. How’s Reagan?” she asks, as she seems to become a little more coherent.
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything yet. What happened, Linds? Where were you two going?”
She inhales a shaky breath and closes her eyes. I can’t tell if she’s thinking or the drugs are still keeping her groggy. “I was taking her to the airport,” she mumbles.
“Why?” I cut her off.
“She was going home to Minnesota early. She thought you left her, like that other asshole did,” she says quietly. “I offered to drive her so she wouldn’t have to leave her car at the airport for two weeks.” I grind my teeth in anger when I hear she was going to leave without telling me for two fucking weeks. However, the anger quickly dissipates when I remember I have no update on her or the baby.