Chloe looked down at her hands. “Not at all. I don’t remember a beating. And I sure would remember something like that.”
“Well—” Davidson was frustrated. His face was red, and he kept making fists. She felt very sorry for him. He was trying to do his job, and Chloe was a complete and total asshole to him. Then the detective blurted out, “We can’t let you contact Rivera. It’s not safe for you to be around him. That man will kill you if he can!”
“Don’t be silly.” She smiled her most convincing grin. “I love my husband. I want to be with him. If you don’t call him, I will.”
“You have his number?”
“I do. Right here,” she said, touching the side of her head.
“Well,” Rabinowitz said, “I don’t know how we can stop you, except—”
Davidson interrupted, “What if we talk to a counselor before you call anyone? Would you agree to that?”
“Okay, grab a counselor and let’s talk. Otherwise, I’m not waiting. I’m calling my husband right now.”
“We’ll get a counselor as soon as we can. Please wait. You owe me that for finding you and bringing you here to the hospital.”
The cop was reaching, but it worked for Chloe to look reasonable. She sighed to show how inconvenienced she felt about all this. “All right. We’ll talk to a counselor. But tomorrow I’m calling Reno. I need to see him.”
“Please. Counselor first.”
“And get me a laptop in here. I want to look up this Andrew Constance person and see if his picture jogs my memory.”
“Now you’re talking,” said Davidson. “I’ll talk to the nurses. I know they have laptops for patient use.”
“That would be perfect,” she said. “Now please let me sleep. I’m exhausted.”
“Good night, Chloe.”
The laptop arrived a half hour later. She smirked.
She was on it in a flash.
Chapter 40: Andrew Constance
“Andrew Constance?” the man on the phone said. “This is Detective Davidson.”
“This is Andrew. My God, man, tell me my wife’s not dead.”
“Someone has run a woman over in a crosswalk. She’s at the hospital. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s your wife, Mr. Constance.”
“Is she alive? Tell me!”
“She’s alive and has been here quite some time. We’ve learned she’s the woman you’re looking for.”
It shot through Andrew like a bolt of sunshine. They found Chloe! The man he was speaking with had found her. Detective Davidson knew where she was. This was monumental, and he was already trying to figure out what to take with him to get her and what else he might need so he could prove who he was. Andrew was ecstatic and raced through the people he would call with this fantastic news.
“Can I come get her tonight?” he asked. In his mind, he was already calling Marcel and Michael to make the trip down to Alton with him—just in case there was more to it than a simple disappearance. He couldn’t head south to Alton fast enough.
“Well, that’s the thing,” the detective said. “She doesn’t want you to come get her.”
It confused him. “Why not?”
“She doesn’t want to come home. At least not to you. Now, I’m under the impression her thinking is very confused. She had a serious accident some months ago. She spent time in a neurological hospital unit with no memory of you or anything else. There’s still some of that present.”
It stunned him until he considered the time she disappeared. There’d been problems, especially with the rape and Andrew J’s birth. They had seen doctors. But a hospital for months?
“I’m having trouble believing she was in a hospital all that time.”
“It was severe. Amnesia, surgeries and rehab. Even worse, now she’s taken a nose-dive, and I’m afraid she might not make it back to you.”
“Why do you say that?” Andrew‘s stomach plummeted. He was frightened beyond anything he’d ever felt in his life.
“I say that because Chloe wants to go back to Reno Rivera. She’s saying he’s her real husband, not you.”
Shock and disbelief weren’t strong enough to describe his reaction. Andrew felt a total annihilation of hope. It devastated him and he had no words to say. What do you say when your wife had chosen another man? Especially another man who had assaulted her and had been plotting to kill her?
Andrew said, “Then we need to call in the right doctors. There’s no way the Chloe I know would ever choose Reno Rivera for anything except maybe death by a firing squad.”
“I understand your feelings, Mr. Constance. Now, here’s our next step. I’ve got her to agree to talk to a counselor tomorrow before she goes running back to Rivera. Plus, we almost have enough on Rivera to arrest him for attempted murder. We’re missing paint samples off the vehicle that hit Chloe, but when the samples are obtained, we’ll be going in for an arrest. In the meantime, I’ve stalled her with the counselor meeting. Whether that will change anything, I don’t know.”
“And if it changes nothing, what are your plans, detective? Just let her go back to the man who kidnapped and raped her?”
“You know what? There’s no law against her doing that, Mr. Constance. Which makes it mandatory we make an arrest in this case without delay. Circumstantial evidence tying his car or his helper’s car to the paint samples found on Chloe, that’s—”
“What?” Andrew exploded. “Please tell me you’re not serious! Go back to him? That’s ridiculous! She’s been in a head injury ward! She can’t make that judgment!”
“But the hospital can. I’ve spoken to an assistant district attorney down here. It seems a woman discharged from a hospital with a clean bill of health like your wife can live with whomever she wants. You have no control, Mr. Constance.”
Words failed him. He didn’t know what else to say.
Then he realized he had to go to Alton and kidnap her back. Bring her back to her family and the home she loved and get her reestablished in her real life. If she was having memory problems, Andrew believed their children would bring her back around. He needed them involved with her. Hell, he needed to be involved with her, too.
“Where is she now, detective?”
“Hospital here in Alton.”
“Name of the hospital?”
Hesitation. Then, “I’d better not say. It’s confidential.”
“I’m her husband, sir. Please just give me the name.”
“No, sir, I’m sorry. That is confidential. Patient’s rights and all that. I’d better hang up now, Mr. Constance.”
“Wait! When can I talk to you again, Detective Davidson?”
“Tomorrow after the counselor meets with Chloe. I’ll talk to them, and then I’ll call you.”
“I hate this. You have my number?”
“I do. The same number I called tonight.”
“Yes, that’s my cell.”
“Good night, Mr. Constance. I’m sorry for your problems, sir.”
“I know you are, detective. Thanks so much for trying to help. Good night.”
Andrew was already dialing Marcel before the phone went dead. There was no time to waste. Marcel picked up on the second ring. “We’re going to Alton,” he told him. Andrew asked him to arrange security for the children, and then they agreed to meet at a rest stop south of town, closer for Marcel than coming up north to Andrew’s house.
Andrew went to his bedroom and retrieved his Glock from the small gun safe on the top shelf of the closet. He worked the slide, checked the chamber, and locked it open. Then he inserted the magazine and released the slide. A round shot into the chamber, and he was locked and loaded.
Nina Alvarez, their nanny, was sleeping in the guest room. He knocked on her door. She answered, wearing her robe and sticking her head out.
“I have to leave,” he told her. “We may have found Chloe. I don’t know when I’ll be coming back, but the next few days, I’m sure.”
“You’ve found Mrs. Constance, Andr
ew?”
“Maybe. I hope to God we have.”
“Okay. Everything is fine here. I have the credit card. I’ll get food from Peapod. The kids will know it’s important and that you love them. But I won’t mention their mother.”
“Excellent. No need to get them all excited just now. It might be her and might not be her. But the police want me to come see. So I’m walking out, Nina.”
“It’s all good, Andrew. All good.” She reached out, patted his chest, and told him to hurry. To bring Chloe home.
Twenty miles south of Chicago, Andrew pulled into a rest area. Under the main floodlights, he spotted Marcel waiting. He was walking toward Andrew even before he could turn off the Mercedes. Marcel came around to the driver’s side and motioned him to change places. Andrew climbed out, thanked him for coming, and hurried to the passenger side.
Then they were off, headed south for Alton and his wife.
It would be incredible to see her again and have her back home.
But would she come home?
Damn right she would even if he had to kidnap her. Could he kidnap his own wife? The lawyer inside him was screaming “kidnapping is a crime!” but the husband inside him didn’t give a damn.
They were bringing her home.
Chapter 41: Andrew Constance
On the way to Alton, Andrew dialed the hospitals. There were several, and they all denied they had a patient named Rivera. After striking out with three calls, he dialed the fourth, Southeast Memorial Hospital. They first acknowledged they had a Mrs. Rivera, but then denied it in a rush of words. It was a hit. He hung up.
Marcel heard the conversation, so he floored it and three hours later they were in Alton, at Southeast Memorial, pulling into visitors’ parking.
Andrew told the woman at the nurse’s station he was Andrew Constance and he was here to take his wife home. She demanded ID from him; driver’s license and bar card were not enough. They also required the marriage license that Andrew had brought. He also had thought to bring an affidavit from Judge Harris Stanley of Chicago, who knew them.
The woman jumped on her phone and dialed a number. They awaited an unknown individual who would have the final say-so. At last she appeared, a woman dressed in a navy business suit with a red tie with white polka dots. Definitely official, definitely in-control, she studied the documents, comparing names and signatures on the nurse’s computer to Andrew’s driver’s license and bar card. She called the Illinois Supreme Court Attorney Registration number line and asked a half-dozen questions. She got off the phone and asked for his attorney number. Andrew recited from memory the index number by which they knew him at the Supreme Court, and the woman checked it against the number she received from ARDC. She satisfied herself that all was well. Then she placed a call to a doctor. Andrew could hear her talking about him, who he was and what he wanted. Then she hung up. Keeping her eyes fixed on Andrew, she told the nurse Andrew should be allowed to collect his wife and check her out. But only if the wife was willing to leave with him.
The nurse led them down a hallway where they pushed through the last door on the left. When it swung open, Andrew laid eyes on his wife for the first time in ages.
Except he didn‘t recognize her.
Where Chloe was bright-eyed and found it difficult not to smile non-stop, the Mrs. Rivera they said was his wife was dull, her skin gray and membranous, and she neither smiled nor didn’t smile. Her look was neutral. But his heart seized, and his throat tightened at the pain on her face. There were bruises, swollen and green, gashes with stitches still healing, casts and an orthopedic brace. It was all he could do to hold it together, not to break down right there and weep like a child.
When the nurse told the woman who he was, Chloe nodded.
“I’ve had surgeries,” she said. “You don’t recognize me anymore. They said you’re Andrew?”
“Yes, I’m your husband, Andrew Constance.”
She couldn’t bear to look at him. But he made eye contact just for a split-second before she tore her eyes away.
“I’m a mess. I’m sorry.”
It was clear he didn’t recognize her at all. Her features had changed, yes, but it was more than that—it was her affect and her general health that were foreign to him. Andrew looked her over closer. Her nose was different, but her eyes were the same, and her mouth was—well, something twisted it in a constant scowl. The mouth didn’t smile the whole time. She’d changed, yet she hadn’t. But altogether, the person was very different from who he had known.
“You have changed, and I’m a little surprised.” Tears collected in his eyes. “But I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through.”
“No, you can’t,” she said.
She then picked up the TV remote and aimed it at the TV mounted high on the wall facing her bed. She clicked it with her thumb several times.
“Time for Judge Judy,” she said and swept her free hand up to show the TV.
Andrew smiled and nodded. He tried to appear interested, but inside he was shocked that Chloe would even spend thirty seconds watching such a show. He was sure Judge Judy was an excellent show, but his Chloe had had no interest in it. It was more than he could fathom. His Chloe wouldn’t be caught dead watching it. She wouldn’t.
“Nurse,” he whispered as Chloe became engrossed in the sudden appearance of Judge Judy, “what’s the situation with her? I mean, there are no more surgeries, am I right?”
The nurse took Andrew by the wrist and pulled him toward the door. She whispered, “Chloe is traumatized. She can tell you all she’s been through. She took months the first time, and here she is again with similar issues as before. That’s the head injury returning after the attempt on her life. Add to that her physical injuries from being run over, and Chloe’s been to hell and back.”
Andrew checked the ID badge on the chain around her neck. “Carrie?” he asked. “Nurse Carrie?”
“Sneider. Carrie Sneider.”
“And Detective Davidson? The one who found her?”
“Yes, he’s been here, but not today.”
“They station you at the front desk?”
“I’m the Shift Director of Nurses, yes. You can usually find me out front.”
“So you know a lot of the people coming and going? Has Reno Rivera been here?”
She took a step back. “Try to speak in low tones, Mr. Constance. Your wife.”
“I’ve come to take her home. Is that possible?”
“Hmm. I’m sure I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her?”
“Fine.”
“I need to get back out front. Press the red button if you need us. It’s on your wife’s pillow.”
“All right. Thank you.”
An hour and a half later, they’d watched Wheel of Fortune, Jeopardy, and some PBS program about Eric Clapton. Chloe hadn’t looked over at him since the roundelay began. He was sitting in the visitor’s chair, balancing a TV dinner of tacos and refried beans that Marcel scared up before returning to the small room where he waited. The food was glutinous, unseasoned, and unsatisfying. He could say the same thing about the meeting with his wife, but he was too worried to acknowledge the metaphor. She was someone he did not recognize. He had calls into physicians identified for him by the nurses, but no one had gotten back. So pretty much he was in the dark. He considered kidnapping Chloe back to Chicago with him where she could meet with her doctor. To hell with protocol.
“Chloe, do you think you’re ready to come home with me?”
She shot him a sidewise look, keeping one eye on Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight.
“Go home where?”
“To our house in Chicago.”
“Why would I go there? I want to be home with my husband.”
“I am your husband, Andrew.”
She looked at him. “No, Reno is my husband. I don’t know why you would even say that, Andrew.”
“How long have you been married to Reno?”
“Years.”
> It stunned him. Just the use of the word “Reno”—the name of the man who‘d raped her—was one word he would never have expected to hear his wife utter.
“How long have you known Reno?”
“A long time. Since before my bad accident.”
“When was this bad accident?”
“I ran off the road. I was driving my VW.”
“You own a VW?”
“Owned, Andrew, owned. I totaled it, and they won’t give me a new one. If you want to help me, help me get my car replaced.”
“I want to take you home. I can get you a new car when we’re home.”
“I’ll be going home with Reno, my husband. He’ll be here to get me.”
“That’s impossible. Have you forgotten that Reno sexually assaulted you?”
“He can get furious at me sometimes, but I deserve it.”
“You deserve to be sexually assaulted?”
“Husbands have rights with their wives. I try not to resist him.”
“My God! Have you told this to your doctor?”
“I have. Dr. Thomas knows everything. We talk about everything here.”
“Has he told you to get away and stay away from Reno?”
“No, we don’t run other people’s lives. We try to keep our comments focused on ourselves. I’m here to talk about me, not about your stuff.”
He slumped back in his chair, feeling defeated. This was like talking to a sack of sand. Made no sense. He checked his watch. “I’ll be back.”
He walked beyond the nurse’s station, out to the waiting area. Marcel was sprawled out on the couch, reading an eBook.
“Help,” he said.
“Hey, how’s it going in there? They about ready to check her out and let her go home with us?”
“Far from it. She wants to go home with her husband, Reno.”
Marcel scowled. “Say again?”
“I know, I know. Chloe believes she’s married to Reno Rivera. She says she wants to go home with him.”
“Does she recognize you?”
“Not so far.”
“Does she recognize the kids’ pictures? Have you shown her those?”
The Fifth Justice (Michael Gresham Legal Thrillers Book 10) Page 15