Chapter 22
Michael
“M ichael, no. I can’t ask you to do that.”
I took a deep breath and reached for my patience.
Grace wasn’t trying to be difficult. She felt like shit. She was nervous about the police detective who was on his way to talk to her. She was scared because she’d not only been found – we assumed – she’d been attacked, nearly kidnapped.
Something I’d stop blaming myself for oh...right about never.
This wasn’t about me , I reminded myself for the tenth time in the thirty minutes we’d been having this discussion. Grace was being discharged soon, possibly that afternoon, and she needed a place to stay. Her refusal to move in with me, to come stay with me while she healed, was not about me. Period.
Even if my guts twisted in knots like it was.
“You’re not asking,” I responded, again. “You can’t be on your own. You have to wear a sling for a minimum of two weeks. You need to rest so the headaches from the concussion don’t get so bad. You’re going to need help.”
“Michael...” Grace trailed off. What could she say? I was her only real option. She had no other alternatives, whether she liked it or not.
And didn’t that thought just add the cherry to the crap sundae of this argument?
“Look, Grace. I know you don’t want to. I get it. But even if you could manage on your own, you can’t go back to your apartment – not right now – and it makes no sense to go to a hotel. I have plenty of space and you’ll be safer with me than you would be on your own. You’re staying with me.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed as she glared at me. “That sounds an awful lot like you think you can tell me what to do.”
I sat down on the hard little loveseat that sat under the big window in Grace’s hospital room and dropped my head into my hands. She was digging her heels in, and I couldn’t blame her. I was acting like an asshole.
I lifted my head and looked at her. The bruising along her left cheek and around her eye had bloomed into a mix of purple, blue, and green. Though I couldn’t see it at the moment, I knew she had bruising to match on her left hip from where she’d hit the wall when her attacker had thrown her. She had other scrapes and bruises all over her body. Her left arm was cradled close to her body in a sling, protecting her injured shoulder.
I didn’t want to fight with her or force her. All I wanted to do was take care of her.
I tried something I hadn’t. “Please, Grace? Will you please come stay with me and let me help you? I want to do it. I’ll worry a lot less if I can be sure you’re safe and getting the rest you need.”
I watched as the fight drained out of her. She watched me, saying nothing, then...
“Alright,” she said quietly. “Only for a couple weeks until I don’t need the sling anymore.”
I wanted to agree, to take what I could get, but I didn’t want to have this argument again.
“It might need to be longer,” I cautioned. “Depending on what the police have to say about whoever tried to grab you, you may not be safe at your apartment.”
Grace’s shoulders slumped and I regretted reminding her.
“Okay. Let’s say a few weeks then we’ll reassess.”
“Deal,” I agreed. Not that I’d want to let her go after a few weeks, but that gave me time.
“Hey, guys.” Mercy breezed through the door, setting a chai tea on the little table in front of Grace before settling on the loveseat next to me, coffee in hand. “I think the detective is here. He was asking for directions to your room at the nurses’ station as I came past.”
A few seconds later there was a knock, then Della walked in, a man in a dark suit following close behind her.
“Grace, this is Detective Chase. He’s here to talk with you about your incident.”
The man stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake Grace’s. “Miss Mathews, I’m Detective Chase with the Lark Police Department. I’d like to talk with you if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Of course.” Grace looked around the room, then at Della. “Della, are there any extra chairs?”
“I’m fine standing,” the detective assured her. “Thank you, though.”
“I’ll leave you all alone to talk, then. If you need anything, just buzz me.” Della left, closing the door behind her.
Detective Chase looked over at me and Mercy, his gaze seeming to catch for a few extra seconds on Mercy before returning to Grace. “Would you introduce me, Ms. Mathews?”
“Please call me Grace. This is Mercy and Michael Baron, my friends. I also work with Mercy.”
I noticed that she’d skipped over the fake fiancé thing, which was probably best under the circumstances. There were nods of acknowledgement all around.
The detective looked from Mercy to me and back. “And you two are...?”
“Michael’s my cousin,” Mercy filled in the blank.
“Thank you.” Detective Chase turned back to Grace. “I understand you were assaulted late Tuesday evening. Can you tell me what happened?”
Grace exhaled a slow breath. “I’ll try. I’d had dinner at Romano’s and I was walking home.”
“Romano’s is on...?” Detective Chase asked.
“Seventh.”
“And ‘home’ is...?”
“My apartment is just off 9 th Street.”
“Thank you. My apologies for interrupting. Please go on.”
“I was walking home,” Grace continued, “just kind of watching the people and enjoying the night. I’d just turned the corner at 9 th when I heard footsteps. Something slammed into the side of my face then the man grabbed me from behind and lifted me up.”
“I kicked and screamed and tried to reach behind me to scratch his face. He set me down but didn’t let me go. I was able to kind of kick backwards and kick him in the crotch. When I did that, he shoved me into the wall, and I think maybe I hit my head again. All I remember after that is hearing some voices. I don’t know if that was there, or in the ambulance, or what. I woke up here.”
I felt Mercy’s hand cover mine and looked down to see her gripping the fist I’d unconsciously made on the cushion between us. We’d heard pieces of the story from Grace but hadn’t wanted to ask her to relive it. Listening to her now, picturing her fighting for her life...the rage that swam inside me was unlike anything I’d ever felt.
“Did he say anything?”
Grace winced as she frowned slightly, a sure sign that her head was hurting her again. “He said something like ‘he better pay up now.’ I think he called me a bitch.”
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Your bag was found at the scene with you. Did he try to grab it at any point? Demand money, anything like that?”
Grace gingerly shook her head. “Nothing like that. The only thing he grabbed was me.”
“Did you get a look at him? Could you describe him?”
Grace shook her head again. “He came up behind me. He was a little taller than me, beefy if that makes sense. He had dark hair on his arms.”
“Did he seem familiar in any way?”
“No. I’m sure I don’t know him.”
From the description she’d given me earlier of Ellis and Seth it didn’t sound like either of them.
“Did you notice any tattoos on his arms or hands, or any scars? Maybe jewelry?”
“No, nothing.”
“When you reached back to scratch his face did you feel facial hair? Did he have a beard?”
Grace paused, closing her eyes like she was trying to form a picture in her mind.
“He did,” she confirmed. “It was short, but longer than just scruff.”
“Did you feel any piercings?”
Grace closed her eyes again, but quickly shook her head after just a few seconds. “Nothing I could feel.”
“Okay. When he spoke, did he have an accent?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Did he smell like anything? Do you remember any odors or scents?”
“Cigars,” Grace said immediately. “I didn’t remember that until you asked the question, but he smelled like cigar smoke.”
“Anything else at all that you can recall about him?”
Grace sat quietly, thinking, eyes fixed on the bed sheet as she creased it between her fingers. “He had on black work boots, the heavy looking kind. That’s all I can think of.”
“You’ve given me a lot. If you think of anything else, no matter how small it might seem, let me know.” The detective waited for Grace’s nod before going on. “I know you said you’re sure you don’t know the man who grabbed you, but do you have any idea what this may have been about?”
“I do,” she responded softly. “At least I think so.”
The detective’s expression didn’t change, but I could swear I felt his attention sharpen.
Grace briefly related the story she’d told me months before in her apartment, leaving out some of the smaller details but hitting the main points. The detective interjected with a question or two but for the most part just let Grace talk until she was done.
“Do you know what facility your brother is in now?”
Grace shook her head slowly. She looked like she’d used up the last of her energy telling her story. “No. I just know it’s in Tennessee.”
“And you believe your ex is still living at your previous address?”
“Probably. But I don’t know for sure.”
Grace’s voice sounded as sapped as she looked. I was about to stand and suggest the detective save any more questions for another time when he took a step back.
“I’ll do some checking and see if I can confirm where both men are. I’m going to leave you my card.” He drew a small white card from the breast pocket of his jacket and laid it on the table in front of Grace. “If you think of anything, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me. I’ll check in with you soon.”
With a goodbye to Grace and a nod at Mercy and me – his eyes snagging on Mercy again – he was gone.
I stood and went to Grace’s side, running my eyes over her. Her cheeks were pale, and her eyes looked tired, but she didn’t seem scared or upset.
“You okay, Gracie?”
She gave a small nod as she slumped more fully into the pillows behind her. “I’m okay. I think I’m going to nap for a while.” She laughed lightly as her eyes closed and slowly reopened. “Whether I want to or not.”
Seconds later, she was out. I lowered the head of her bed, Mercy tucked the sheets around her, then we stepped out in the hallway to let her get some rest while we talked.
“You alright?” Mercy asked me. “You were looking pretty intense in there. Not that I blame you.”
“I’m okay.” I blew out a breath. “I’d be better if I could get my hands on the fucker who attacked Grace, but I’ll deal.”
“I get it. What did you think of the detective?”
“Other than the fact that he was checking you out?” I grinned as Mercy gave me a look. “He seemed like he listened to Grace and took what she said seriously. I guess we’ll have to see what he comes up with.”
“This really was her brother, wasn’t it?” Mercy shook her head in disgust.
“It would be an incredible coincidence if it wasn’t.” The wave of guilt and frustration I’d been trying to hold at bay crashed over me. “I should have been more careful with her. We knew they were looking for her. I should have done more to protect her.”
Mercy shook her head at me.
“Don’t take this on your shoulders, Michael. All that will do is make Grace feel bad because you feel bad. She doesn’t need that. This isn’t your fault.”
“No, but I promised her if she came here, she’d be safe. That I’d keep her safe.”
“She knew it was a risk, no matter what. And she’s far safer here – with you, with us – than she would be anywhere else. I’m telling you, Michael, it will hurt her if she thinks this is weighing on you. Just help her and be there for her. Don’t make this about your guilt.”
Hands on my hips, I turned and walked away from her, too frustrated to form a response, letting her words spin through my head.
The last thing I wanted to do was add to Grace’s stress or worry. Mercy was right. Making this about me – my anger at myself, my guilt for not keeping Grace safe – would put a burden on Grace that she didn’t deserve and didn’t need.
I turned and walked back to Mercy.
“Feel better?” she asked, watching me closely.
I was honest. “No, but I’ll keep my shit together for Grace. This is about her, what she needs. Not about me.”
Mercy nodded once. “Good man.” She turned back toward Grace’s door. “I’m going to get my things and take off for a little bit.”
Once Mercy left, I sat back down on the loveseat in Grace’s room to watch her sleep. I made her a silent promise...to watch over her better, to do more to keep her safe, to be better for her.
Then I settled in to wait.