Reyes scrubs his hands over his face and pinches his lips together. "You don't remember getting dressed? Getting in your car?" he asks, voice strained.
I slowly shake my head, my eyes looking at some spot on my blanket. "No."
He snorts. "That's convenient."
I dart my eyes over to him. "What's convenient? What are you talking about?"
"Back off, Reyes," Alex growls, ready to pounce and beat the shit out of the sergeant.
"Stop, please," I beg, not wanting a war to break out. Pain spikes between my eyes. I inhale sharply and welcome the return of the incessant throb. I lay my head back on the pillow, and I close my eyes. Fuck, this hurts.
Alex turns to Reyes. "It's time for you to go."
"I'm not going anywhere until I'm done questioning her, Stone. This is a police investigation. I suggest you stay out of it."
"What?" I open my eyes and stare at him. "Am I being investigated?"
Reyes grips the bedrail, his knuckles white, and narrows his eyes at me. "What did you do after you got Alex's text message, Kylie?"
"I don't know…I can't remember."
"Yes, you do." He jabs his finger towards me. I recoil, and he stalks away.
Holding myself tightly, I squeeze my eyes shut. "I swear I don't know."
Reyes stomps back up to the bed, and starts to lean in close, but Alex throws his arm in front of me. Reyes yanks back and squares off with Alex.
"Leave, Reyes, or I'll throw your ass out." Alex's hands ball into fists.
"Do it, Stone. I'd love nothing more than to arrest you for obstruction and assaulting a police officer."
A man in a white lab coat steps into the room, and eyes Alex and Reyes. "Hey, you two need to calm down. We have patients in this hospital who need rest. Now, both of you have to leave so I can examine my patient."
I grab Alex's arm, and slide my hand into his. "Can he stay?"
"If you want him to, but if you upset her—you'll have to leave." He glances at Reyes. "Are you family?"
"No, I'm a sergeant with the—"
"Out," the doctor commands, pointing to the door.
Reyes is taken aback, his eyebrows scrunch up, and he stares at the doctor for a moment. "I'm questioning Ms. Tate."
"No, what you're doing is upsetting my patient, and you're going to have to leave. It's up to you whether you go on your own, or if I have security escort you out and call your boss."
Reyes swings his eyes over to Alex and me. "I'll be back, and I want answers." He strides past the doctor, and storms out.
Dr. Katz—according to his name tag— stands beside me, flips open my medical chart, and is silent as he peruses it. "You've had a rough couple of days. How are you feeling?"
My hand instinctively goes to the lump on the back of my head. "My head hurts – a lot."
He takes a penlight from his front breast pocket, opens my eye, and flashes the light into it. "I'm sure, you have quite a knot back there. All the yelling probably didn't help, either." He cuts his eyes over to Alex.
Alex winces, and then clears his throat. "She's having some trouble recalling what happened."
"That's not unusual." He looks in my other eye, and then scribbles something into my chart. "I'm sure your memory will return once you've had a chance to heal. Getting all of the Ritalin out of your system should help speed that up, as well."
Ritalin? My mind searches for answers. "I… I don't take that," I stutter.
"Not knowingly, apparently," he says, gently tipping my head forward to look at the lump on the backside. "We found it in your tox screen." He places his hands on my shoulders, and gently guides me back against the pillows. "Have you been experiencing symptoms of paranoia or anxiety? Beyond what you would normally have day-to-day?"
"Yes," I answer. "Both of those things."
"That's typical with Ritalin abuse." He's somewhat distracted, writing notes in my chart, and then looks at me when he finishes. "It's good we caught it when we did. It can cause seizures, and with your recent head traumas, it's not something you really want to mess with."
He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a tight smile. "Okay, Ms. Tate, you look fine – mild concussion. I want you to take it easy for the next week or two. If you're not feeling better, come back in. Otherwise, I don't see any reason you need to stay here. I'm going to discharge you but take care of your head. Two head traumas in one year is very serious. You need to be extra vigilant to avoid even mild injuries in the future."
I nod, and Alex reaches across my bed and shakes Dr. Katz's hand. A nurse comes in, and starts the process of discharging me, and within an hour, I'm on my way home.
* * *
* * *
Alex helps me into the back of the SUV and climbs in after me. Jake pulls away from the hospital and drives out of town. We successfully avoided Reyes, which I’m grateful for – I'm not in the mood to try and convince him I'm suffering from memory loss.
I rest my head on the seat. "They found Ritalin in my system?"
"Yes," Alex confirms.
"Okay, how have I unknowingly been ingesting it?"
A noisy exhale bursts from Alex's chest. "The coffee," he says, and pauses briefly before speaking again. "I didn't send it to you, so when you said that, it sent up some red flags. Jake had it tested, and Ritalin was found mixed in with the coffee grounds."
I turn away, and gaze unfocused out the window. "My coffee is laced with a drug that causes me to be abnormally paranoid…well, that's great. Did Jake find out who sent it to me?"
"According to the invoice—you."
Of course…
I'm at a total loss for words, so instead I let out a humorless chuckle. My thoughts are all over the place. I'm lightheaded, and there's a dull throb where I was hit.
"That makes sense—and goes along with the other theories that I'm sending myself dead roses and bloody floggers."
I close my eyes and try to make sense of this. I've never been one to wish I could go back in time and change anything. I've always accepted whatever came my way, and moved on, believing everything in life is a learning experience and makes me stronger. But my one regret – the one event I wish I could redo – is saying yes to John when he first pursued me. I don't know where I'd be now, if I'd be better or worse off, but I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have gone through the last couple of months thinking I'm losing my mind. And the bigger problem, is now I have to convince people I haven't.
Alex slides closer to me, lifts my legs and lays them over his, and wraps his arms around me. "I don't know what's going on, Kylie, but I don't believe you are responsible for these incidents. Whoever it is, is someone who has inside knowledge of you."
Someone who knows me?
Someone who's been around me, knows my routines, and wants revenge. I don't let many people get close to me, so the list is pretty short, made even shorter by discounting those I trust. That only leaves one or two people.
"What am I being investigated for?"
Alex places his lips on my forehead, leans back, and gazes into my eyes. "You tried to kill John."
"What? How?” I rub my temples with my fingers. “Did John escape?”
“No, you drove out to the hospital and had a meeting with him.” Alex looks straight into my eyes. “What were you doing out there, Kylie?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “It has to be the same person who's doing all these other things to set me up."
One look in Alex's eyes tells me he knows differently. "It was you," he says, "You were brought to the hospital from there. But everything points to self-defense."
"Reyes obviously doesn't think so." There's so much white noise in my head right now, and it's not helping the situation. I really need to focus. Reyes is investigating me. Is he also trying to get me convicted of attempted murder? "Why doesn't he believe it was self-defense?"
"There's a problem with the videotape of the incident – apparently some sort of glitch with the system – everyth
ing from that day is either gone, erased, or was never recorded somehow."
The quick cadence of my heartbeat is offset by my rapid breathing. "There had to be guards in the room—it's procedure—what are they saying?" A wave of nausea rolls through my stomach.
"John tried to attack you. You had a pen in your hand, and inadvertently stabbed him when he lunged at you. He must've stumbled backwards, because when he saw the injury from the pen, he came after you again. That's when the pen went into his chest."
What the hell is going on? None of this is making sense.
Alex places his thumb and forefinger under my chin and lifts it so our eyes meet. "I don't want you worrying about this. We'll get it sorted out and you'll be fine. Jake knows the guards—he's talked to them— and they all agree you were not at fault."
Fingering my necklace, I swallow over the lump lodged in my throat. "Is John alive?"
Alex releases a heavy sigh. "Yes, the injuries weren't life-threatening. He'll make a full recovery, but he'll be in pain for a while."
I'm not sure how I feel. I may avoid going to prison – if Matt agrees it's self-defense – but John is still alive. And who knows what plan he'll come up with next. "Have the police been able to question John?"
Alex stops me from twisting the pendant around my fingers and raises them to his lips. "Yeah, it's what you'd expect him to say. You attacked him, the guards are lying, the tape was intentionally destroyed…" He trails off, the corner of his mouth tips up on one side, and he gives a slight wag of his head.
"That's quite a story," I attempt a smile, but I'm just not feeling it.
"Enough to pique Reyes’s interest," Alex agrees. "He's convinced there's a conspiracy, and I'm at the heart of it all."
Of course, Reyes is blaming Alex, that doesn't surprise me. They've had a tense relationship from the start. But what does surprise me, is how hard Reyes is gunning for me. "Is Matt saying anything about this yet?"
"No, I think he wants it all to go away. The implications of someone being able to stab an incarcerated patient – guards covering it up – it'd be a mess for his office."
We turn down the driveway and pass through the gate. Alex helps me out of the back seat, down the hallway to our room, and into bed. I'm not sure how long it will take for my body to be completely free of the Ritalin, but I already feel like a different person. I'm still not clear on exactly how everything happened, and the outcome is still undetermined, but what's disappointing is nothing's changed.
John is still alive.
39
A light snow is falling outside, barely covering the ground. I'm mesmerized by it, the fat snowflakes slowly drifting to the ground, each one no longer unique once it becomes a part of the white blanket. The house is buzzing with people coming in and out, unloading supplies, setting up tables – everything associated with having a New Year's Eve party.
I prefer the quiet solitude of my library. The simple pleasure of watching mother nature at work just outside my window while I sip my tea.
The door opens behind me and closes with a soft click. I turn my head to see Alex coming towards me. He sidles up next to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and gives me a quick kiss on my neck. It's been three weeks since I was injured, and—even though my concussion is completely healed—Alex is still very gentle with me. Normally, this would offend me, be an indication that I'm weak, but it's kind of nice being coddled.
"Are you feeling left out of the party planning?" he asks.
I chuckle. "Um, no, I'm not really into party planning—your sisters are welcome to it and seem to have everything under control without requiring my inputs."
He takes my hand, walks backwards to the chaise, and we sit down. "We haven't talked much about your trip. Everything okay in New York?"
Somehow, I was able to convince Alex to let me go to New York to assist Ryan and Paul negotiate a contract with a pregnant teenage girl. Just thinking about the giddy excitement Ryan – and even Paul – have at the prospect of adopting a baby, makes me smile.
"All the papers have been submitted, and the screenings are done. I think everyone is happy with the deal we worked out—especially the girl and her parents." Ryan and Paul were very generous, paying all the girl’s medical expenses, offering to let her stay with them during the pregnancy. I think Paul even started a college fund for her. "Now, we just wait for the bundle of joy to make his or her grand entrance into the world."
"So they'll have a baby by next year." Alex shakes his head, and smiles. "How long until they find out the sex of the baby?"
I shrug. "I'm not sure, actually. I would assume a couple of months."
"I hope so," Alex chuckles. "I'm not sure how long Ryan can hold out before he starts decorating the nursery."
I nod and laugh with him. If someone had told me this time last year I would be madly in love with Alex Stone—and he loved me in return—I would have told them to find a good rehab facility and stop using crack. Now, I can't imagine my life without Alex. The Three Musketeers are now a foursome, and it feels as if it's always been this way.
And what a crazy family we've become. Jake and Lisa, Thomas, Maggie…I love them as much as I love Harold, Leigha, and Alex's siblings. Francine is another story, but hopefully, in time, we can become closer.
Alex shifts, turns to face me, and lazily holds my hand. "I talked to Jack today. The DA is closing the investigation into your case and is ruling it self-defense."
I take in a deep, satisfying breath, and let it out in one long exhale. "That's good news." For the first time in months, my heartbeat is steady and calm. There's just one more thing I need to do, and I'm struggling to find the right words. I made a promise—no more secrets between Alex and me. I lace my fingers with his, give them a squeeze, and look into his eyes. They always give me strength.
"I tried to kill John," I admit.
Alex's eyebrows gather together, and he looks a bit perplexed. "I know."
"So do I. I've known all along. From the moment I saw the pen on the table – I knew what I had to do." I keep direct eye contact with him. I have peace of mind, and a sense of ease. I'm not asking for absolution. I'm not apologizing for my actions. I'm revealing the truth and freeing my conscience. "He had a plan, and it was working. He set me up—made me look crazy, made me feel crazy – all so I would be committed to the hospital. Then his accomplice was going to kill you."
Alex takes a deep breath, his eyes widen, and then he exhales. He's still, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. I stay quiet and give him an opportunity to comprehend all that I've relayed.
"Who do you think his accomplice is?" he asks.
I shake my head, and shrug. "I have no idea. You?"
"Yeah," he says. "Reyes."
40
The New Year's Eve party is perfect, no detail has been overlooked—including the dress I'm wearing. Ellie picked a red satin sheath that comes off one shoulder for me. She left my hair down in big, flowing curls, and my makeup light, "for the first part of the night." I don't have a clue what that means.
The transition from dinner to dancing is smooth. All the top white table linens are being removed, revealing shiny gold and silver coverings, and the DJ announces he is now taking requests.
Taking a sip of my gin and tonic, I admire the splendor. When Patty first explained the party was going to be on the patio, under tents, I never in my wildest dreams imagined this result. The walls of the tents are staked into the ground and create a seal to keep in the warm air from strategically placed heaters. The pool is now the dance floor, covered by a hard plexiglass and metal frame, the water visible below.
But it's the decorations which are the most astonishing—silver and gold is the theme of the night. Now that dinner is over, the lights are dimmed, emphasizing the countless strands of white lights twinkling like stars on a clear night.
Ryan steps next to me and points across the dance floor at Paul talking to the DJ.
"That didn't take long,"
I chuckle.
"It's what he lives for at these events, so he can dance the night away," Ryan says. The DJ turns to his stack of CD's, and Paul is standing with his hands on his hips. "And now he's trying to find you, tiny dancer." He nudges me with his elbow, grins, and then waves his hand over his head until Paul spots us.
"I hope you're properly hydrated, K. I gave the DJ a long list of requests," Paul states when he makes it through the crowd to Ryan and me.
"Not my first dance, Paul." I finish my drink, hand my glass to Ryan, and grab Paul's hand so he can lead me to the dance floor. This is our thing—Paul and me—we dance and dance and dance. I'm pretty sure that's how I met him, the only two people shaking it to Baby Got Back at a party freshman year, so, naturally, we became best friends. Ryan, God love him, has two left feet, zero rhythm, and is happy to leave us to it.
After five songs, I limp off the dance floor, exhausted and in need of water. I spot Leigha and work my way over to her table. I drop into the chair next to her, let out a long breath, while my arms and shoulders slump at my sides. Leigha laughs, her eyes sparkling even in the low light, and leans closer to me so I can hear her over the music. "You look like you're having a good time. Paul's a maniac on the dance floor."
"He's fun, but he has boundless energy." I elbow her. "You should dance with him while I recover."
"Maybe I will, since Will's off wandering around at Francine's insistence, greeting people he doesn't remember meeting, but manners dictate he acknowledge. Rich people have stupid rules." She swirls the ice in her glass, looks past me, and nods her head at someone. "Your man is headed this way."
I glance over my shoulder. Alex has a smile on his face, and I'm in awe of how handsome he is. I love him in a tux, perfectly tailored to his body, his confidence astoundingly sexy. It's a mystery how I got so damn lucky—and one I'm not remotely interested in solving.
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