Chapter 32
CHAPTER 32
FORD
A few days later, I found a quiet spot just down the hall from Ed’s room in the ICU where I actually had decent signal. My phone vibrated as texts and voicemails began to roll in. I screened the lot of them, mentally filing things into what had to be dealt with and what could wait. A voicemail from Cross Country Moving had come in a couple of hours ago. I hit play.
“Mr. Donoghue, this is Mark Wheeler from Cross Country Moving. I have good news! Your shipment was recovered. We don’t have a full inventory of everything we were originally carrying, but there’s very little damage to what we have. As soon as the police release it, we’ll have it on a truck and headed your way.”
Well, that was good news. I never had told Peyton about the theft. I still would, since it was possible that stuff would be missing when we did get it, but at least not everything was lost.
Deeming everything else in my messages as things that could wait, I dialed home.
Mom answered on the first ring. “Ford?”
“Hey, Mom.” I kept my voice low out of respect for anyone else in the area.
“What’s the news?”
Now that I was out of Bree’s sight, I let some of my own mask drop and scrubbed a hand down my face. “Well, we’re past the first 72 hours. The doctor said that’s the most critical. At this point, Ed’s vitals are good, the brain swelling is going down, and prognosis is hopeful.”
“Oh, thank God,” Mom breathed.
“How’s Bree?” Mimi asked.
She must have had me on speaker.
“She’s holding up.” That was the most positive thing I could say. In truth, she was barely holding it together, running on nothing but coffee and sheer stubbornness. Cartwrights had a boatload of that, but she was at low ebb by now. Her eyes were red-rimmed from exhaustion, and her shoulders carried the weight of all her fear. I wished I could do more to take that off her than simply putting sustenance in her hands or providing a shoulder for her to lean on and doze.
“I’m gonna try to get her to leave the hospital for a bit. Grab a hotel room so she can shower and sleep in something that isn’t a chair.” My own back was protesting the lack of horizontal surface the past three days.
“Is she eating?” Of course, that would be the first thing Mimi focused on.
“Ish? The hospital cafeteria here isn’t bad. She’s had some soup and a lot of tea. Some pudding.” I rubbed at the ache in my neck. “How are things going there? How’s Peyton?”
“I’m good. And tell Bree that Keeley’s doing fine.”
My heart squeezed. “I’ll do that. I’m not sure how much longer we’re gonna be over here, kiddo.” I didn’t want to leave Bree in her current condition, but if Peyton was struggling, I’d figure something out. Willa would probably come without hesitation. Either way, we’d make sure she wasn’t alone.
But my daughter was made of tougher stuff. “We’re all holding down the fort here. And we’re sending all the positive vibes and stuff to Mr. Ed and Bree.”
This kid was just amazing. I swallowed past the tightness in my throat. “They’ll definitely appreciate all that.”
“What about your work?” Mom asked. “Do you need us to bring you anything?”
“Sawyer’s coming by in a bit with some overnight bags and my laptop. That’ll set me up for a while longer.” Feeling my phone vibrate, I checked the screen to find a text from the man himself saying he was downstairs. “In fact, he just got here, so I need to go down to meet him. I’ll check in again soon.”
After a quick goodbye to my mothers and daughter, I stepped into Ed’s room. Bree looked up from where she sat at his bedside, her hands wrapped around one of his weathered ones. Her eyes were so shadowed, they looked bruised, and her skin had taken on that waxy, exhausted pallor that came from too many hours under fluorescent lights. I had no idea how she was still upright.
“Sawyer’s here. I’m gonna run downstairs to get our bags, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She just nodded and turned back to her grandfather.
I hoofed it down to the lobby, where I found my friend waiting, two duffel bags and a laptop case in hand. His solid presence was a welcome relief after the strain of the past few days. “You’re a lifesaver for this.”
“Of course. We should’ve done it sooner. Willa packed Bree’s bag with pajamas and toiletries and stuff. Several changes of clothes. I loaded you up with the basics: clean shirts, jeans, your shaving kit. Y’all need anything else?”
“Not that I can think of. Now that Ed’s considered stable, I’m gonna try to get her to leave long enough to at least hit a hotel for a shower and a nap.” Just the thought of how exhausted she looked made me want to bundle her up and tuck her into bed so she could rest. “She’s running on fumes.”
“That’ll help, no matter what. Monty has the Brewhouse under control, so she doesn’t have to worry about that. Everybody’s pitching in.” Sawyer shifted the bags. “The whole island’s got your backs on this one.”
“She’ll be relieved about that when she surfaces long enough to remember life outside this hospital. Any other news from the island? Progress on the Galef investigation?”
Sawyer crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, his expression grim. “Nothing really. Well, I say nothing. The police haven’t figured out if the break-in at O’Connell’s was related or not. But they totally questioned Hillary Russell in connection with the murder. You remember her from back in high school?”
I thought back through the blur of teenage memories, trying to place her face. “Cheerleader, right? Friends with Cara Conroy. I didn’t realize she was still on-island.” Last I’d heard, most of that crowd had scattered to bigger cities after graduation.
“Yeah. Ended up as the art teacher at the high school. One of the guys from my crew is married to one of her besties. Evidently she’d been dating Galef for a while. Not like getting married kind of serious. He broke up with her less than a week before the murder. Totally out of the blue. She’d apparently been thinking about ending it herself, so she wasn’t too upset about it. At least not until the police hauled her in for questioning.”
“As a suspect?” I tried to imagine the girl I remembered committing murder. Hillary had been Miss Popularity, and Galef had been… well, generally bad news. Maybe he’d grown the hell up somewhere along the way if he’d gotten her attention in the first place. Opposites attract was a thing for a reason. But murder?
Sawyer shrugged. “You know they always gotta look at the partners.”
“Why’d they wait so long to question her? Shouldn’t she have been one of the first people they talked to?”
“I don’t think many folks knew they’d been dating. Once they found out, she got added to the list, but I think it was more procedure rather than any real suspicion that she did it. They’re trying to build a timeline of what was going on in his world in the weeks before he died.”
I considered everything I’d heard. “Lotta changes. Broke up with her, got fired from his job.”
“I think Carson’s trying to figure out who Galef pissed off enough to kill him.”
“Guessing that’s not a short list, given the guy’s reputation. But seems like whoever it was is looking for something. Why toss the apartment after killing him if it was just a crime of passion?”
“Fair question. Either way, everybody on the island is nervy.” Sawyer shifted. “It reminds me of those weeks after Gwen disappeared.”
I’d been trying hard not to think about that, given I now had a child only a couple of years younger. “People want answers. The only thing that’s keeping me settled is that whatever’s going on with Galef has nothing to do with any of us. It seems like something that was personal, so I don’t feel like we’re in danger. Not from that, anyway.”
“Here’s hoping. There’s been no word from Dax yet. But you’ll be the first to hear.”
In all the chaos of Ed’s crisis, I’d almost forgotten that Sawyer’s friend was digging into Casey’s company. “Thanks. I appreciate it. All of it. I need to get on back. I don’t wanna leave Bree for long.”
“Sure.” He pulled me in for a back-thumping hug. “You let her know we’re all praying for her and Ed.”
“I will.” Shouldering the bags, I headed back upstairs.
When I got back to Ed’s room, Dr. Mitchell was there doing her rounds.
“His vitals are holding steady, and the latest scan shows continued improvement. He’s stable, Miss Cartwright. You can take a break.” Her voice was full of compassion.
Bree twisted her hands in her lap. “But what if something changes?”
It killed me to see her without her usual confidence.
“We have your contact information. I promise, the nurses will call immediately if there’s any change in his condition.” She glanced at the chair Bree had been living in. “The best thing you can do for him right now is take care of yourself.”
I set the bags down. “There’s a hotel just down the street. Half a mile, tops. You could get cleaned up, maybe catch a few hours of actual sleep.”
She looked between Ed and me, clearly torn.
“Bree. Honey.” I crouched beside her chair. “You heard the doctor. Ed’s stable. And you won’t do him any good if you collapse. Let me help.”
Her eyes went glassy, but I could see her losing the battle with tears. She nodded once, and that capitulation alone would have told me exactly how exhausted she was.
I helped her up, steadying her when she swayed. Three days of hospital chairs had done a number on both of us.
“We’ll call if there’s any change,” Dr. Mitchell reiterated. “But I don’t expect there to be.” She offered a kind smile. “Go rest.”
Bree bent over the bed, brushing a kiss to Ed’s temple. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”
When she hesitated, I squeezed her shoulder. “He’s gonna be okay. C’mon.”
Shouldering our bags, I led her out of the hospital for the first time in days.
The hotel wasn’t far, which was good because Bree looked ready to pass out. I kept glancing at her as I drove the short distance, worried she’d fall asleep right there. Her head kept bobbing forward before she’d catch herself and jerk upright again.
Check-in was mercifully quick. The clerk didn’t even blink at our obvious exhaustion or the fact that we definitely looked like we hadn’t showered in three days. I signed whatever they put in front of me and took the key cards.
In the elevator, Bree swayed into my side. I wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, and she didn’t protest. I knew she’d never willingly lean on me. But I still had to resist the urge to pull her in close. I didn’t want to take advantage of her mental or emotional state just because I needed to comfort.
“Almost there,” I murmured as we reached our floor.
She mumbled something unintelligible as I guided her down the hall to room 317. The key card clicked. I shouldered the door open.
And stopped dead.
One bed. A king-size, but still just the one. I’d been so focused on just getting us somewhere to rest, I hadn’t even thought to specify. Shit.
I stepped in, glancing around to see if there was a sofa that might fold out, but there was nothing. I set the bags down, already turning back for the door. “I’m sorry. I’ll go back down and fix this.”
Bree walked right past me, heading for the bathroom. “I don’t care. I’m gonna shower.”
The door clicked shut behind her, and a few moments later, I heard the water switch on.
Well, okay then.
I knocked on the bathroom door. “Your bag.”
Bree opened it a crack and dragged the duffel inside.
While the shower ran, I settled at the small desk and opened my laptop. A flood of work emails demanded attention. I knocked out quick responses to the most urgent ones, confirming I’d remote in for tomorrow’s meeting.
The water shut off. I rubbed my eyes, trying to focus on the screen.
The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam. Bree emerged wearing pink pajamas covered in… were those unicorns? I blinked, certain exhaustion was making me hallucinate.
“Your turn.” She towel-dried her hair, seemingly unaware of how the whimsical sleepwear completely contradicted her usual image.
I grabbed my bag and retreated to the bathroom before she caught me staring at those ridiculous unicorn pajamas. The hot water felt amazing on my stiff muscles, and I stayed under the spray longer than strictly necessary, letting it pound away some of the tension of the past few days. God knew there was plenty of it to work through.
When I came out in sweats and a t-shirt, Bree was curled up on the far side of the bed, already dead to the world. Her damp hair fanned across the pillow, and she’d pulled the blanket up to her chin. Even in sleep, she maintained that careful distance she’d been keeping since I showed up on her doorstep for Peyton.
I stared at the floor, contemplating how badly my back would hate me for sleeping on it. But after three nights in hospital chairs, the thought was almost physically painful. My muscles twinged in protest at the mere idea.
Carefully, I eased onto the other side of the bed, staying as close to the edge as possible. Bree didn’t stir. The scent of her shampoo drifted across the pillow, and I drifted to sleep and dreamed of pina coladas and getting caught in the rain with the woman softly breathing next to me.