Chapter Twenty-seven
Lake
The men clearly knew each other well, and together they were a lot to take in.
In the small hospital waiting room, with no easy way to escape, the feeling was only amplified.
Ben had spent most of the time on the phone, and from his tone—and the bits of conversation I overheard—it sounded like he was reporting to someone above him.
We’d been told Jamie had made it to the hospital, but nothing else.
That left us stuck there, waiting for someone to give us an update.
It was therefore something of a relief when my phone lit up with a call from Verity.
“My sister,” I said to Baxter. Once he nodded to show he’d heard, I stepped out into the corridor.
I made my way to the end, positioning myself between the drinks machine and the toilets, where I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way before answering it.
Verity didn’t bother with a greeting. “Never have kids, Lake.”
The slice of normality was like music to my ears after the night I’d had. “You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, trust me, after last night, I do.”
“What did Charlie do?”
“Came down with some sort of stomach bug at three o’clock this morning. Woke me up crying because he’d been sick and hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time. I changed the sheets, got him tucked back in, and then guess what happened?”
“He was sick again.”
“Oh, you’ve seen this film, have you?”
“Poor little man.”
Verity sighed. ”Yeah, well… I’ve kept him off school, obviously. But he seems fine now. So not only am I stuck doing load after load of washing so he’s got clean sheets tonight, but I also have to keep checking he’s not up to no good. I should’ve sent him to school.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“Yeah… I’m just—”
“Tired,” I suggested.
“Yeah. Ignore me. I’m just jealous of you and your child-free existence.”
For a moment, listening to my sister rant, I’d forgotten where I was and what had brought me here. Then it all came rushing back. “No need to be jealous. I’m at the hospital, and I’ve been here for hours.”
“The hospital?” Her tone sharpened with concern. “What happened? What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “And Baxter’s fine.” The noise she made suggested she was pleased about the first part and not overly concerned with the second.
I had faith Baxter would grow on her once she realized he wasn’t going anywhere.
The problem now that I’d opened the door was that I had to explain something that even I was still struggling to wrap my head around.
”Someone got hurt,” I said. “A friend of Baxter’s.
It’s… a whole police thing.” I realized my mistake the second the words left my mouth.
If this conversation continued, it would only take us down a path that would reinforce her belief that Baxter was nothing but trouble.
“I’ve got to go, Verity. Someone’s calling me.
Give Charlie my love and tell him I’m glad he’s feeling better. ”
“Lake?”
I hung up. One thing at a time. And right now, that thing was whether Jamie was going to pull through, and if he did, whether he’d remember anything useful.
The group had dwindled when I returned to the waiting room.
Baxter explained that Griffin had needed to take over from John, and that Asher had gone with him to update Cade and make sure the PPB didn’t run itself into the ground without him.
I wasn’t entirely sure whether the last part was meant as a joke.
That left Ben—still on the phone—and Calisto, who announced cheerfully that he was going to get everyone coffee.
“Not coffee,” I snapped. “Baxter can’t cope with the smell.”
Calisto’s brow furrowed as his gaze darted to his friend. “Since when?”
Baxter shrugged, looking sheepish. “The smell reminds me. I was carrying coffee when it happened.”
“PTSD,” I supplied, in case Calisto couldn’t make the connection.
His frown deepened. “But Asher and I had coffee when you were staying with us, and you said nothing.”
Baxter shrugged again, his unfocused stare making it clear this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Guilt twisted in my chest for being the one to bring it up. “No coffee,” I said more gently. “Please. For Baxter’s sake.”
“Right.” Calisto nodded. “Tea or hot chocolate only.” He turned away, though not before I caught the smile he tried to hide. Maybe the protective bear act had been a bit much, given that the antagonist was an innocuous liquid.
I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”
Baxter leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. “Never apologize for sticking up for me.” He eased back, amusement flickering in his eyes. “That said, it’s Calisto. He’s probably the one person in the world you don’t need to protect me from.”
Calisto returned within minutes, handing out steaming polystyrene cups of hot chocolate. Ben accepted his with a slight frown while still deep in conversation, but drank it anyway.
The next hour passed in a haze of waiting and very little else. Occasionally one of us would trot out a cliché like no news was good news, and the rest would nod along. When Baxter wandered off to answer a call of nature, Calisto wasted no time in sliding into the vacated seat next to me.
“So… you and Baxter,” he said.
“Me and Baxter,” I echoed.
A glance at the door told me he knew our time alone was limited before Baxter returned.
“I’ve been worried about him,” Calisto said without preamble.
“It’s hard knowing how to help someone who’s clearly struggling, but won’t admit it.
No matter what I did, he wouldn’t talk to me.
And trust me, I tried. At first, it was okay.
He was staying with Asher and me, so I could keep an eye on him.
But then things got difficult. There were too many…
” He trailed off, color creeping into his cheeks beneath his naturally tanned complexion.
“Men,” I finished for him.
He nodded jerkily. “Yeah. I didn’t know if you knew.”
“I do,” I said. “And I know it was just a coping strategy. That it’s not really him.”
Calisto nodded, then sighed. “I should’ve known about the coffee.”
“How could you if he didn’t tell you?”
“I know him better than anyone. I should have just… known.” He glanced toward the door again, then straightened. “Anyway. I know it’s not the time or place, but I wanted to make sure you knew something.”
“What?” I asked, frowning.
“If you hurt him, I’ll have to…” He faltered, apparently unable to conjure a convincing threat.
It was like being threatened by a puppy.
One that bared its teeth but could only ever manage a nip.
I’d thought Baxter had been exaggerating when he called Calisto one of the nicest people in the world.
It was so endearing that despite being the one ‘threatened’ I felt obliged to help him out.
“Rip me limb from limb? Tear me a new one? Make me wear my testicles as a scarf?”
“All of that,” Calisto agreed. “Maybe not the testicles part. That’s a bit over the top.”
“Great. I like my testicles. Good to know they’re safe.”
“I bet Baxter likes them too.” He froze. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”
“Say what?”
He smiled gratefully. “I can see why he likes you. You’re…”
“I’m…?” I prompted.
“Solid. Dependable.”
“You make me sound like a pair of shoes.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Those are good things. They’re things he needs.”
“I hope so,” I said, the conversation cut short as Baxter returned. Calisto slid back to his original seat. Baxter glanced between us curiously, but didn’t ask. Either he knew Calisto well enough to guess what had just happened, or he’d decided it didn’t matter.
We finally got news mid-afternoon when a harried-looking nurse appeared to tell us that while Jamie was stable, he hadn’t yet regained consciousness. The relief in the room was palpable.
The police arrived soon after to interview Baxter and me. We stuck to our story, the initial phone call being true, and the rest carefully pruned under Ben’s guidance to remove any mention of necromancers.
As far as the police were concerned, Griffin, Calisto, and Asher had never been there, and we’d only called Ben for moral support after calling the ambulance.
If they suspected anything was off, they didn’t say.
No one except Baxter, Ben and me had touched anything—Ben had confirmed that—so unless a neighbor had looked out of their window in the early hours and seen men pile out of a car, there was no reason to question it.
And really, were they going to doubt the word of one of their own? A superior, no less.
No surprise that we weren’t allowed to see Jamie since we weren’t relatives. His husband had been informed, but was in Edinburgh with their kids visiting family, meaning it would be hours before he arrived. If only Jamie had gone with him.
When two detectives came to speak to Jamie, Ben went in with them. By then Baxter had started pacing, nothing I said helping. I understood. Of course I did. Whatever Jamie could tell us might be the difference between remaining in the dark and discovering something huge.
Ben was gone for what felt like a week, though it was probably closer to an hour. He returned alone, his expression a strange one.
“What?” Baxter and I asked together.
Ben opened his mouth, then closed it again. A quick glance around the waiting room made it clear he didn’t want to say anything in front of strangers. He jerked his head toward the door, and we followed.
Finding somewhere private in a hospital turned out to be quite the challenge. Nobody could ever claim a hospital lacked people. We ended up in the car park, standing beneath a shelter meant for taxi pickups.
“How is he?” Baxter asked immediately.
Ben exhaled. “Weak. The doctors think his heart stopped for a period and then restarted on its own. It’s a thing,” he said in response to my frown.
“Not a common thing, but possible. Lazarus syndrome. They think that’s the only reason he’s alive, that he was dead enough for the attacker to think the job was done, and then somehow revived enough to start breathing again. ”
Baxter shook his head. “We should have checked. We should have—”
Ben cut him off gently. “He’s alive. That’s what matters. The doctors don’t believe there’s any brain damage, so he should make a full recovery. We’ve put a guard on his door just in case.”
I pulled Baxter against my side, and he leaned into me, resting his head against my shoulder for a few moments. “What did he say?” Baxter asked, his voice tight. “Was he able to tell you anything?”
Ben stared out across the car park. “He was able to tell us quite a lot, actually.”
I doubted Chinese water torture could have been any more excruciating than the silence that followed. Baxter cracked first. “And? You can’t say that and then stop. This is the guy who killed me. Who wants to finish the job.”
“The evidence,” Ben said slowly, “points to something… delicate. I’m just trying to work out how best to phrase it.”
“Fuck being delicate,” Baxter snapped. “I don’t need treating with kid gloves. Just spit it out.”
He was practically vibrating beneath my hands. “Yeah,” I agreed. “Just tell us. We can’t deal with something if people keep secrets. We’ve already told you he was standing across from Baxter’s flat. He knows where he lives. He knows things he shouldn’t. That’s why we’ve been staying in a hotel.”
Ben’s gaze shifted back to us. “How many brothers do you have?” he asked Baxter.
“None. I was an only child.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “What did Jamie say?”
“He let him in,” Baxter said flatly, “because he thought it was me.”
Ben grimaced, clearly having forgotten that Baxter was psychic. “You showed up at his door,” he said, “asking for help. Saying someone was after you. Except it wasn’t you. But Jamie swears it sounded like you. That’s why he opened the door.”
“Some people are good at impressions,” I said.
“That was my first thought too,” Ben agreed.
“But?” I prompted.
Ben sighed. “Jamie said the man also looked like Baxter.”
“Looked like?” I queried.
“Exactly like you,” Ben said to Baxter. “Only older.”
“That’s impossible,” Baxter said, pulling away from me.
“That’s Jamie’s story. A man who looked and sounded like you. Who forced him upstairs at knifepoint and made him call you. That’s why I asked about brothers. That would be the obvious explanation.”
“Why the phone call?” I asked, refusing to dwell on the part that made little sense. “What did he gain? If it was a trap, he could’ve waited for Baxter, but no one was there.”
“He wanted to mess with me,” Baxter said, with an impressive lack of emotion.
“To show that even if I hide somewhere he can’t reach me, there are still people he can get to.
” He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the curls.
“I’d be worried about Calisto if I didn’t already know he lives in the rich equivalent of Fort Knox.
And if anything was ever going to happen to him, Asher would see it first.”
The statement made no sense to me, but I was getting used to that, so I didn’t question it.
“Do you have any answers?” Ben asked. “Because, much as I hate to throw your own words back at you, now’s not the time to keep secrets. We can’t help you if you keep things from us.”
Baxter shook his head. “I don’t know anything. I wish I did.”
Ben studied him with a detective’s practiced eye. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him. He nodded. “Well, whoever he is, he’s facing an attempted murder charge. If you find out anything, call me.”
“We will,” I assured him when Baxter didn’t respond.
Ben’s phone chimed. He checked the message and slipped it back into his pocket. “I have to go.” He took a step back. “Stay in the hotel. Plain-clothes officers will be here soon to escort you to Lake’s house, so he can pick up some things. Don’t go anywhere else.”