Faith

by Michelle Larks

  “Gotcha. Can we go?” Marcus asked, stepping toward the door.

  “Sure. I think I left my jacket in the bedroom. I’ll go upstairs and grab it, and then I’ll be ready to go.” Liz rushed upstairs to the bedroom and returned to the kitchen. “Oh, do you want me to take Mitzi home with me? I know you’ll be in and out of the hospital over the next few days.”

  “I hadn’t thought about her,” Marcus admitted. “Let me get her things together and I’ll bring her out to the car.” He took a plastic bag out of the pantry and filled it with a couple cans of dog food and treats. Then he picked up Mitzi and put her jeweled leash around her neck. After he was done, Marcus took his keys out of his pocket and locked the back door. He and Liz walked to Liz’s car, and when she unlocked the door, Marcus put Mitzi in the backseat.

  Liz got in her car and said, “I’ll drop Mitzi off at my house and meet you at the hospital.” The Harrisons lived a few miles from Marcus and Monet’s house.

  Marcus entered his SUV and started it up. When he arrived at the hospital, he was surprised to see Liz pulling in the hospital parking lot behind him. After he parked his vehicle, he waited for Liz, and they walked inside the hospital.

  Liz went directly to Monet’s room, while Marcus made a detour to the security area. Smitty had gone back to the precinct, and Wade and the team were wrapping up for the day.

  Wade looked at Marcus, shook his head, and said, “Why am I not surprised you’re here and not upstairs where you should be?” He picked up some notes off the table.

  “’Cause you know me, and you know I won’t rest until there’s some resolution to the case,” Marcus said intensely. “I take it there’s nothing new, or you would’ve called me.”

  “Correct. There haven’t been any new developments. And yes, I know you won’t give up finding Monet’s attacker. I’m done for the day after I talk to the policemen that Smitty assigned here. They’re en route, and will stay here all night, just in case the perp is foolish enough to come back, which I doubt.” Wade stood up and slipped on his jacket. “They should be here any minute.”

  Five minutes later, the door opened, and two plain clothes policemen walked into the room. They exchanged greetings and sat down, while Wade brought them up-to-date on the latest finding. Monet’s purse had been found, minus her keys and wallet, in a garbage can fifteen miles south of the hospital. Her car hadn’t been located yet. Wade concluded the meeting after asking if there were any questions, and there were not. He and Marcus left the room and headed to the elevator to see Monet.

  As they rode to the fifth floor, Wade said, “So far we’re making fair progress. We’ll follow the evidence, and eventually get our man. I don’t want you to do anything to compromise the case.”

  Marcus’s eyes seemed to focus on a far off place as Wade continued to speak. He just wished the odds the squad had provided had been more favorable than fair. To his way of thinking, good would have been better.

  “In addition to the officers staying here at the hospital tonight, the chief has approved two plain clothes officers to stay at your house tonight as a precaution. You can’t be sure what the perp might be thinking. Did you remember to change the locks in your house?” Wade asked. “We also pulled the records of Monet’s cell phone to see what satellite towers they hit.”

  Marcus nodded to indicate that he was in agreement with the steps taken to solve the case. Wade and Marcus exited the elevator and walked down the hallway to Monet’s room. As they passed the nurse’s station, a couple of hospital employees expressed wishes for Monet to have a speedy recovery.

  “Well, we can tell your wife is loved at her workplace,” Wade observed.

  “I figured that she was. Still, it’s another thing to actually see and hear it.” Marcus nodded. He rapped lightly on the door, and then pushed it open.

  Derek, Duane, Liz, and Reverend Wilcox were visiting Monet, who was asleep.

  “Hello, Marcus and Wade,” Reverend Wilcox said. She gave them a light hug. “I wanted to stop by and see if there was anything I could do.”

  Marcus and Wade were stunned by the number of floral arrangements in the room. After checking a few of the cards on the vases, Marcus put the overnight case in the closet.

  Liz pointed to the floral arrangements and said, “The flowers just seem to keep coming. Monet told the nursing staff to give some of them to the elderly patients. This is what’s left.”

  “That sounds like something Monet would do,” Marcus said, continuing to check the cards.

  “I’ll see if I can get a couple of extra chairs,” Wade said, and then left the room.

  Marcus walked over to Monet and kissed her forehead carefully. Her face seemed more swollen to him than it did earlier.

  Liz noticed his reaction. “The swelling should start to subside shortly. They’ve been giving her antibiotics and icepacks for the swelling.”

  Wade returned with a couple of chairs. He placed them on the wall near the end of the bed and sat down.

  Reverend Wilcox asked Marcus, “Did Monet’s doctor say when she’ll be released?”

  “Earlier she said if all continues to go well, she’ll be released maybe Sunday or Monday,” he responded.

  “That’s good news. I will make sure we mention her at church on Sunday, and of course say a prayer for her.”

  “Thank you, Reverend Wilcox,” Marcus said. He looked over at Monet, who stirred in the bed but didn’t wake up.

  “Doctor Washington says it’s good that she’s sleeping because it will help her body to mend. Did you guys have a chance to talk to her?” Marcus asked Derek and Duane.

  “For a few minutes. We didn’t want to tire her out, and she was pretty groggy,” Duane answered, looking away from the bed, which seemed to dominate the room.

  “Well, I didn’t plan on staying long. I have a few more members to visit while I’m here at the hospital.” Reverend Wilcox stood up and removed her coat from the back of the chair. “If you don’t mind, Marcus, I’d like to read a scripture and say a prayer for Monet.”

  “That will be fine,” Marcus responded.

  Reverend Wilcox took her Bible out of her black leather tote bag and asked everyone to stand near the edge of the bed and hold hands. She opened her Bible to the book of Psalms. “I will read from Psalm 86:6 and 7. ‘Give ear, Oh Lord, unto my prayer, and attend to the voice of my supplications. In the days of my trouble I will call upon thee, for thou wilt answer me.’ Father above, I thank you. For even in the midst of heartache and pain, I can and will say thank you. Thank you for sparing Sister Monet’s life, and because the injuries she has suffered are temporary. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy will come for Monet and Marcus in the morning. It might not feel like it right now at this minute, but I know my sister was blessed today, Lord, by your grace and mercy. And Father, as Monet begins to heal, let her know that she is not alone, that she only has to lean on your everlasting arms.

  “Let not hate or revenge fester in Monet and Marcus’s hearts, Father. Give them the wisdom to know that you will fix any ordeal they endure. Maybe not as soon as they would want or like, but let them know that you will fix it, that you will do it in your own time. Lord, I claim these blessings and the victory in your name. Amen.”

  “Amen,” everyone echoed.

  Monet stirred, and tried to sit up. She clutched her arm. “Reverend Wilcox, I didn’t know you were here,” she said, pushing back her hair off her brow. “Somebody should have awakened me.” She looked at everyone in the room with swollen, accusing eyes.

  “I’m sure they just wanted you to get your rest,” Reverend Wilcox said, putting her Bible back in her bag. She walked over to Monet and talked to her quietly for a few minutes. When she finished, everyone decided to leave so that Monet could rest.

  “I’ll be back to see you tomorrow,” Liz said. She rubbed Monet’s arm. Wade did the same.

  Derek and Duane asked Monet if there was anything she needed. She said no. Her brothers hugged her and t
old her they, too, would see her tomorrow. Everyone departed.

  “I’m going to take the chairs back to the nurse’s station,” Marcus told his wife. “I brought some of your nightgowns. Do you want to change into one?”

  “No, I’ll do that tomorrow,” she said. She lay back in the bed.

  Marcus picked up the chairs and left the room. He returned a few minutes later. He sat in a chaise seat where a nurse had thoughtfully put a sheet, pillow, and light blanket for him.

  “Did you eat?” Monet asked him as she moved gingerly in the bed.

  “No, I’m not hungry. I’ll get something later,” Marcus answered, as he watched his wife with an eagle eye. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to call the nurse?”

  “No, I’m okay. If I go back to sleep, have the nurse bring you a dinner menu; that way, you can dine with me while I have my meal intravenously.”

  “I will,” Marcus assured his wife.

  The nurse came into the room and checked Monet’s vital signs. Monet mentioned bringing in a menu for Marcus. The nurse said she’d return with one shortly.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Marcus said. “I could’ve gotten something to eat from the vending machine. I think the cafeteria is open twenty-four hours.”

  “I want you to stay with me.” Monet yawned and flinched because it was painful to open her mouth wide.

  Marcus jumped up from his seat. “Are you sure that you don’t want me to call the nurse? You look like you’re in terrible pain.”

  Monet tried to smile, and that hurt too. “I’ll make it. You know I don’t like to take medicine unnecessarily. If the pain becomes unbearable, I’ll let the nurse know. You can dim the lights over my bed.” She knew that Marcus was feeling helpless, and figured that would give him something to do. “And adjust my bed and fix my pillows.”

  Marcus did as she asked. Then he sat back down and held Monet’s hand in his own. “You know I’m not going to rest until I find out who did this to you, don’t you?” he said, his voice choking up.

  “Oh, Marcus,” Monet shook her head sadly, “I really wish you would leave it alone. Let Wade and the guys handle the case. I’m going to need you to lean on. I felt better after talking to Liz and Reverend Wilcox. Still, every time I close my eyes the attack happens over and over.” She began sniffling.

  “I know, babe, and that’s why I want the guy found immediately,” Marcus growled.

  “Can you just let it go for me? I don’t want to have to worry about you and what you’re doing. Please?” Monet begged.

  Marcus nodded, although he knew he wasn’t being truthful. There were some things a man had to do for his wife, and protection was high on his list. How dare someone attack his wife, and he was a policeman. I don’t think so, Marcus thought.

  “Marcus Caldwell, I want you to promise me that you won’t actively take a role in the investigation,” Monet said firmly. Her eyes bore holes into her husband’s.

  “Monet, I can’t promise that. I would be less than a man if I did. I will just offer my input to the team and nothing else. Can you accept that?” He brushed a curl away from Monet’s face.

  She nodded her head. “I guess that will do for now. We’ll talk about this later. You know Reverend Wilcox is right. Even in the midst of heartache, we can still thank the Lord that I wasn’t killed. Let’s take comfort from that.”

  “Oh, I’m grateful, Monet, from the bottom of my heart.” Marcus put his hand over his chest.

  The nurse returned to the room with a fresh ice pack for Monet to put on her face. Then she handed Marcus a menu. “I’ll come back later to get it,” she said, before departing the room.

  Monet held the bag to her face for a while, then put it on the table next to her bed. She lay down and drifted off to sleep. Marcus stood up and pulled the sheet up around the upper part of her body. He kissed her forehead, sat down, picked up the remote for the television, and remained by his wife’s side until he, too, fell asleep.

  Chapter 6

  A few months after the attack, Monet was home still recuperating. The memory of the attack was fresh in her mind, and she was still somewhat fearful about returning to the scene of the crime. Marcus suggested she take a leave of absence from work, and Monet followed his advice. She would be off work for sixty days.

  The police hadn’t had any luck in finding Monet’s attacker. Wade and Smitty vowed the case would remain active until the crime was solved. Several officers volunteered their free time to help in the search. Even though a reward was offered, the few leads the team received hadn’t panned out.

  Monet sat at the kitchen table, stirring a cup of decaffeinated coffee with a splash of milk. She hummed along with Mary Mary, one of Monet’s favorite gospel groups, as they sang “Yesterday.” The song had become her mantra.

  Suddenly she jumped up from her seat and ran to the powder room near the back of the house by the den. Her stomach had been squeamish for some time now. She suffered a bout of dry heaves and returned to the kitchen. I’ll have to remember to mention how lousy I’ve been feeling to Dr. Washington. It’s probably just nerves, she absently thought.

  Of all the rooms in the house, the kitchen was Monet’s pride and joy. She and Marcus had it remodeled two years ago. The large room boasted a blond wooden table framed by six chairs that sat in a breakfast nook. She loved to cook, so the couple had installed an island, complete with copper pots and pans hanging over it. The appliances were bone colored. The kitchen was a cozy room, the heart of the house.

  Monet rinsed her cup and put it inside the dishwasher. Then she went upstairs to dress for her doctor’s appointment. She was grateful that she would see Dr. Washington at her office in Hyde Park instead of the hospital.

  She walked inside the closet and removed a pair of stonewashed jeans and a white cable-knit sweater. Monet went into the bathroom, showered, and then dressed. She sat down at her vanity and finger combed her corkscrew, naturally curly hair. Her facial swelling had subsided, but her face still bore faint traces of black and blue marks. She put a little eye shadow on the lids above her hazel colored eyes. She grabbed her purse and started down the stairs.

  Before she went inside the garage, Monet set the security alarm. The couple didn’t have an alarm installed before the attack, and when Monet asked if they could get one, Marcus was more than happy to comply.

  Monet’s eyes zoomed around the garage before she got into her new midnight blue Toyota Solaris. After her car was recovered three weeks after it was stolen and processed by the police department for evidence, Marcus sold the car. Monet turned on the ignition and pressed the remote control to open the garage door.

  Thirty minutes later, she pulled into a space in the parking garage in Hyde Park. When she got to the doctor’s office, she signed the appointment sheet, took a seat, and picked up the latest copy of O Magazine.

  After a short time, a nurse walked into the waiting area and said, “Monet Caldwell.”

  Monet stood up and followed the nurse to examination room number three. The nurse took her blood pressure reading and temperature. After that, she told Monet to remove her clothing and gave her a gown to change into. After she entered notations into the computer, the nurse announced the doctor would be with her shortly, and then she left.

  Monet removed her clothing and sat in the chilly, sterile room reading the magazine she’d brought into the room with her. Ten minutes later, Dr. Washington walked into the examination room.

  “How are you feeling, Monet?” she asked, smiling. Her white coat looked pristine, like she’d just started her day. Her reading glasses dangled from a chain around her neck.

  “Not bad,” Monet replied as she nervously folded her hands on her lap.

  Dr. Washington listened to Monet’s heart rate and examined her face. “The bruises are fading; that’s good.” She sat at the small table in the room and keyed data into the tablet PC. “How have you been feeling from an emotional standpoint? Have the dreams abated?”

&n
bsp; “Somewhat.” Monet averted her eyes from the doctor.

  “Would you like me to prescribe medication to help you sleep?”

  “No, not really. I hate taking medicine,” Monet said airily.

  “We’ll see how you’re doing a month from now. If you aren’t sleeping any better by then, I’ll prescribe something for you, maybe Ambien CR, okay?”

  “Yes,” Monet said. She felt cold and briskly rubbed her forearms.

  “Have you given any further thought to counseling?” Dr. Washington pressed save on the keyboard and returned her attention to Monet.

  “Actually, my minister suggested I do a few sessions with her, and I’m going to start that on Friday,” Monet informed the doctor.

  “That’s good. It probably wouldn’t hurt to participate in a rape crisis group too. I can recommend a few in the area affiliated with the University of Chicago Hospital.”

  “I don’t know if I can talk about what happened to me with strangers. It’s too personal.” Monet shook her head.

  “That’s exactly who you should talk about it to, other women who have been in the same predicament as you. They will understand where you’re coming from. I certainly can’t force you to do so, but I’ve conducted some of the sessions myself, and I know first-hand that they do help,” Dr. Washington told Monet kindly.

  “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll think about it,” she said evasively.

  “How are you and Marcus doing, from an intimacy standpoint?” Dr. Washington probed.

  “I . . . I . . . I . . . not yet,” Monet confessed. “I feel so bad about not being able to be intimate with Marcus. I know he didn’t rape me, but I freeze up when he tries to touch me.” She dropped her head and rubbed her eyes.

  “That, my dear, is why you need counseling. In most cases, women can’t come to terms with the ordeal alone. They need help to work through the issue,” Dr. Washington said comfortingly.

  “Marcus is patient with me, and that helps. I’m just not ready to participate in the physical act, but I don’t mind him holding me. It took me a couple of weeks before I could stand for him to do that,” Monet explained candidly.