Chapter 32
1 Year Later
"Ryleigh, how are you doing?" Dr. Snell asked, her voice gentle as she leaned forward in her leather chair.
I fidgeted with the hem of my blouse, avoiding her gaze. "Okay, I guess. It's hard now that the anniversary is approaching."
Dr. Snell nodded, her pen poised over her tablet. "But you've come to terms with it?"
A humorless laugh escaped my lips. "Sometimes I feel I have, and other times, no. The violence and the loss are hard to take."
"But things are very different than last year," she prompted, her eyes searching my face.
"Yes, they are. Oliver...." My voice cracked on his name, a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
Oliver was everything I wanted, and the time we spent together was so short before it all changed. Our first year of marriage was one I would like to forget. I reached for a tissue from the box on the glass table, dabbing at the tears that had begun to fall.
The memories of that day came rushing back, as vivid as if they had happened yesterday. If my head wasn't already messed up from what happened when I was six and on Fox Island, it certainly was after. I could still see Oliver plunging into the pool with that maniac Caruso, blood staining the water a murky pink.
I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself. "I didn't see the aftermath," I continued, my voice barely above a whisper. "I passed out under Brenda as she covered my body with her own."
Dr. Snell's pen scratched across the screen as I spoke. "And then?"
"I was in and out of consciousness on the way to the hospital and later in the emergency room. I heard the doctor say it was probably from shock." I swallowed hard, remembering the despair that had consumed me. "My only thoughts were how could I survive without my husband by my side. It was almost unfathomable."
A knock at the door pulled me from the events of that day. It swung open to reveal Oliver's smiling face, and my heart swelled with love and gratitude.
What I didn't know as I faded back and forth between dream and reality was that Oliver had survived. The wound in his shoulder bled enough for me to think he was dying, but the bullet had only lodged in his muscle. It caused considerable pain but not a lot of damage. Now, I'm thankful for every day I have with him.
Oliver's brow furrowed with concern as he sat next to me, his arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. "Why are you crying?" he asked softly, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear.
I leaned into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent. "Happy tears," I whispered, managing a watery smile. "I was just telling Dr. Snell how grateful I am that you're here."
Dr. Snell watched us with a warm expression. "Oliver's presence is a powerful reminder of how far you've come, Ryleigh. It's okay to acknowledge the pain of the past while celebrating the present."
I nodded, squeezing Oliver's hand. The road to healing was long and often difficult, but with Oliver by my side and the support of therapy, I was slowly learning to embrace the life we had fought so hard to keep.
"You're making great progress. I'm proud of you," Oliver said, his voice warm with affection as he squeezed my hand.
Dr. Snell nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "I'd have to agree. I'd like to see you next week."
I returned her smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "I'll make an appointment."
Oliver's fingers intertwined with mine as he led me to the reception area. Two sessions a week had helped immensely. I'd managed to let go of most of the events that had peppered my life with misery. I'd even forgiven my father, though I still couldn't fathom why he'd gotten into bed with a gangster. Oliver had come to grips with a similar situation, but he'd forgiven his father long ago.
"Would you like to go home?" Oliver asked, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.
I looked up at him, puzzled. "Of course. Why would you think otherwise?"
A mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "Because Ethan is safe."
I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "I'm sure he is. My mother isn't a monster."
Oliver chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. What I didn't know the day Oliver got shot was that I was pregnant. Ethan was just a tiny speck in my stomach then. I found out a couple of weeks later when my stomach wouldn't calm down. I thought it was nerves, but Oliver was the one who told me to take a test.
"No, she's not," he agreed, "but you're like a mother hen with him."
"He's my first," I protested weakly.
Oliver's arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. "But he won't be your last. I'd like to get you pregnant again."
A shiver of desire ran through me, but I shook my head. "Let's wait a little while."
Memories of my difficult pregnancy flooded back. The last months were spent in bed after I started spotting at almost seven months. Oliver had watched me like a hawk, even staying home for days at a stretch to ensure I wasn't overexerting myself.
It also meant no sex, and my hormones had been raging. We barely made it to six weeks after I gave birth. I craved Oliver so much that our first time together after Ethan was born was passionate and wild. I couldn't get enough of him, and he of me.
"I want to go home," I said softly. "I miss my baby."
"Our baby," Oliver corrected gently.
I smiled up at him. "Our baby."
Oliver smirked as he led me to the waiting limo. After the last attack, he'd decided to keep Vlad and Brenda on as minimal security. Tino, who had sustained a shot to the belly that lacerated his spleen, had surgery and made a full recovery.
As the limo carried us home to our son, I nestled closer to Oliver, savoring the safety of his arms. Life had thrown us more than our share of curveballs, but we'd weathered them together. And now, with our little family and the promise of more love to come, I felt ready to face whatever the future might hold.
On the way home, Oliver pulled me onto his lap, planting his lips against mine and thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I felt that old familiar tightening in my belly. I wondered if it would ever be different, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t—even when we were old and gray. I broke our kiss to look in his sapphire eyes, the same ones our tiny son now had.
"I love you," I murmured, nestling closer to Oliver in the back of the limo.
His arms tightened around me, his lips brushing my temple. "I love you too, Mrs. Fox. Would you like to go on vacation?"
I pulled back slightly, surprised. "We just came back from Southampton."
"That was with your family," Oliver said, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I thought we could go visit Jonah."
A smile tugged at my lips. Jonah now had three fishing tour boats, and his company was growing. I knew Oliver was proud of him, like a big brother watching his sibling succeed.
"Is he still dating Melissa?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
Oliver nodded, his fingers tracing lazy circles on my back. "Very much so. He said she might be the one."
I raised my eyebrows, surprised. "She's only twenty-three."
"Are you jealous she's younger than you?" Oliver teased, his eyes twinkling.
I swatted his chest playfully. "Not one bit, but isn't she too young for him?"
"Weren't you too young for me?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.
I chuckled, conceding the point. "I get it. Age doesn't matter."
"No, it doesn't," Oliver agreed, pulling me close again.
As we fell into a comfortable silence, my mind wandered. Thinking about Jonah and Melissa's age difference reminded me of the passage of time, and how much Oliver and I had been through together. It also made me realize an important milestone was approaching.
"You'll be forty soon," I said softly, looking up at him. "What would you like for your birthday?"
Oliver's expression softened. "I have everything I want. No gifts needed."
He hugged me tighter against his chest, his strong fingers stroking my knee. The tender gesture sent a shiver of contentment through me.
I didn't need gifts either. My marriage and the child he gave me were gifts enough. Life had thrown so much at us, but we'd weathered every storm together. Sometimes you need to rebuild from the wreckage, but it's well worth the heartache if the story ends this way.
The End
If you enjoyed this book and want to read another with as much suspense, love and loss as The Sly Fox Series – Try the first book in The Beloved Series - Adored
Julian Gennaro was slowly becoming drunk. Stumbling to the rocking chair by the large stone fireplace, he sat down hard almost spilling his whiskey. Today was the four-month anniversary of Nina’s disappearance, and since that time, Julian had spiraled down into a deep depression.
No one gave a shit about him except his best friend, Maureen Kelly. But she was pursuing her acting career in California. Any family that might have cared was dead. He was alone and miserable. Nina had been the light that beckoned him away from the darkness. When she disappeared, he sank back into the bowels of hell as he liked to call it.
He rarely drank to this extent, but the occurrences of earlier had set him on edge. The beatings he was used to, but the stares and whispering were something that he never would. He replayed the entire day in his head.
Bear, his almost year-old husky had nudged him awake that morning, just before the sun made its appearance over the ridge. The dog had not really been his; he had been Nina’s. Julian wasn’t a dog person and preferred not to have pets at all. The dog probably needed to go and he opened the door, shivering at the frigid air against his shirtless torso.
He had slammed the door to shut out the cold. Bear had the run of twenty-eight acres of forest surrounding the small two-room log cabin. Julian was sure the dog would take his time doing his business and nosing around the property for a rabbit to chase. He set the coffee maker and went to take a quick shower.
By the time he came out, Bear was scratching at the door, and the sun was peeking in the window. He threw on his flannel robe to let the dog in and was greeted by Tony and Joey, Nina’s older brothers. They often paid him a visit a few times a month, and it wasn’t pleasant. Bear rushed through the open door and Tony pushed Julian by the chest into the cabin, stamping snow onto the hardwood of the cabin floor.
“What can I do for you?” Julian said, but he already knew.
Tony rubbed at his gloved fist, “I think you know. It’s been a while.”
It had been awhile, and Julian calculated the last time they had come to pay him a visit, enough time for his wounds to heal.
He flexed his jaw, “Why do you keep doing this? It’s not going to bring Nina back.”
“Because I think you know something you ain’t telling us. Someone just don’t disappear without a trace now do they?”
Joey laughed and removed his gloves. Julian steeled himself. He much preferred that Tony delivered the blows. Joey had been a boxer in his teen years. He knew how to work the body, at least they didn’t touch his face. Joey approached, and a low growl could be heard from Bear.
“Put that fucking dog in the bedroom,” Joey yelled at Tony who grabbed the dog by the collar, avoiding his gnashing teeth.
Bear had been six months old when Nina had disappeared. He was smaller then, less than his weight now of almost sixty pounds. With the first encounter, he knew that he must protect his master and he attacked Joey and Tony. They wrestled with the dog and had thrown him against the wall. He had scurried under the bed to lick his wounds while they beat the shit out of Julian.
It had been this way for months, always a visit to try and pump information from him in the form of a beating. He had no information to give them, and he wouldn’t, ever. One minute Nina was several paces behind him and the next she wasn’t. Frantically searching for her was no use in the snow. He barely got back to the cabin because the wind had created a total whiteout.
His cell couldn’t get a signal and driving the six miles to town on the winding road would have been suicide. Julian should have attempted it because, without her, he might as well be dead. She lit his world.
Joey moved in, circling Julian who stood his ground. Fighting just made it worse as he had found out. He set himself in a stance and waited for the first blow, but it never came as buzzing could be heard from Joey’s pocket. He waited in nauseating anticipation as the man answered his cell phone.
“We gotta go,” He called to Tony. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back,” he said as he slapped Julian in the face, hard enough to make his teeth rattle.
“Why?”
“You know why. Nina ain’t in front of us, and you know something. The only reason you ain’t dead is because you’re sorta family.”
They tramped through the heavy wooden door, slamming it as they left.
Julian rubbed his cheek where Joey had hit him. He was sure it was going to bruise, but at least he escaped the usual. There was a snowstorm expected, and he needed to get to his chores before it hit. Bear was howling at the bathroom door, and he went to let the dog out who immediately nuzzled against his leg. He was glad he had decided to keep him after Nina disappeared. He was his only real companionship.
Julian prepared himself for town. His thick black hair had dried in a tousled mess while he entertained his visitors. Now it would be impossible to comb. After he dressed his muscular body in jeans, a thick navy blue wool sweater and pulled on his coat and boots, he pulled on a ski cap. If he couldn’t straighten his hair, he would hide it.
He said goodbye to Bear and walked the trampled path of snow to his oversized garage. His pickup truck stood waiting for him. On the way to town, snow flurries began to pelt the windows. It was earlier than the news had said but he was glad he got started when he did.
Julian parked his truck and went into the local grocery store to the stares of several people. It had been this way ever since Nina disappeared. Rumors had started almost immediately, fueled by her father, Vito, and brothers. He was accused of murdering her and hiding her body on his property, but no such claims could be substantiated.
He intently stared back at the accusers with his smoke gray eyes. Screw them, I’ve done nothing, and I’m just as much a victim as Nina. Most turned away from him, but some met his eyes with their own intensity. He didn’t care. The sad thing was that these were people that had known his family for years. Some had worked for his father before his untimely death.
He heard the murmurings. Death followed Julian Gennaro wherever he went. It was peculiar that he was always surviving while his loved ones died. Of course, there was no evidence that Nina was dead.
The police had scoured his property for days, subjected him to interrogation and he even submitted to a polygraph test. They found nothing but a broken man who had just lost his wife to mysterious circumstances.
Maureen had flown from California to be with him. He was thankful for what a wonderful supportive friend she was. However, her presence only added gasoline to the fire. Some said he killed Nina to be with Maureen. It was simply not true. He had never had any type of interest in dating her nor she, him.
He went about the aisles picking up food and other necessities. The storm they were predicting was going to be bad, and he wanted to be prepared. This could very well be a forty-eight hour dump of snow. The day before he had packed the small woodshed next to the house with logs. He primarily used the pot-bellied stove and fireplace for heat even though he had a gas line connected.
At the checkout, he was greeted with an accusatory glance by the cashier. She had been Nina’s best friend, Madison. He disliked the woman from the first time he met her. She was loud and obnoxious with no off switch. It was a wonder that his wife chose this woman as her closest friend since she was the direct opposite. He tried to be civil for Nina’s sake. He thanked her for his purchases and left the store.
The road home was already coated with a thin layer of snow, and he had to be careful around the many winding areas of the mountain road. At the cabin, he unpacked his groceries and then settled in the rocking chair by the fireplace. It had been Nina’s favorite spot, and he often occupied it for comfort.
Julian had few creature comforts, but he did have electronics and a satellite dish for internet. He needed these things since he worked as a graphic artist. He didn’t have many clients since his referrals dried up overnight with the false claim that he was a murderer. Money didn’t matter to him; he had plenty. But he needed to be kept busy.
He logged onto his laptop and checked his business email. Several junk emails but one particular one with the subject line “Where is she?” Probably another kook trying to harass him. He was going to delete the email but for some reason, felt compelled to open it. Clicking on it, he read the contents, feeling his heart speed until he could feel the pounding in his ears.
Mr. Gennaro,
You don’t know me, but I have proof that your wife is alive. Don’t reply to this email. I’ll contact you with further information in the near future.
Julian read the words over and over. Who was this? The email was from a Gmail account. They could easily be deleted. As much as his heart wanted his wife to be alive, he couldn’t be sure this was legitimate. Why not just call him? His business phone number was listed. Why torture him with an email and a promise? He rose from the chair and began to pace. Bear looked up from his spot next to the fireplace and watched him with his bright blue eyes.
Julian stopped to look out the window. The snow was coming down harder now; it was barely noon. The forecast had said blizzard conditions, and he could hear the wind whipping around the corners of the cabin. The flakes swirled violently, slapping against the windows.
He went to settle down in the rocking chair again and glanced at the calendar that hung over the small table in the corner. His eyes fixed on the date, and he began to calculate in his head. Four months to the day. She had been gone that long. It was more than he could stand.
The cupboard over the sink held two bottles of liquor, Whiskey, and Amaretto. He needed a drink to calm his nerves. He removed a juice glass from the drain board and filled it halfway with whiskey. The first sip burned as it went down, but it dissipated when it got past his throat. The second and third were less, and by the fourth, he barely noticed it.
This was how he spent his afternoon. Drinking and staring into the fireplace. At one point his emotions got the best of him, and salty tears slipped down his face until his body shook. No one understood his pain or even tried to understand.
By 3:30 p.m., the daylight was starting to fade, and he was feeling dizzy. The last glass of whiskey he poured was still in the glass. He put it down on the raised hearth and began rocking and humming one of Nina’s favorite tunes, Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep.” It wasn’t his type of music, but he sang it for her.
He must have dozed off because when he awoke, the only light in the cabin was the fire and it was slowly dying. He got up to stoke it and put another log on. Bear was scratching at the door and whining. Dammit, poor dog probably has to go again, it’s been hours.
Then he heard it. It was faint at first, banging than it got louder.
“Shit, I bet one of the shutters got loose from this wind.”
He pulled on his coat, gloves, and boots slowly opening the door so the wind wouldn’t push it back and out of his hands. Bear surged forth ahead of him. He expected the dog to go bolting down the stairs but instead ran the length of the porch to a huddled form. The banging continued, and Julian cautiously picked up a log from the container near the door.
He approached the form and called Bear away, but the dog was stubborn. He remained hovering over whatever or whoever it was and whined. As Julian got closer, he was sure the shape belonged to a woman or a child, the outline was so small and petite. It was face down and wearing inappropriate clothing for this type of weather. A thin white windbreaker, moccasins and sweatpants covered the body.
The windbreaker’s hood was pulled over the person’s head, and he could not see their face. The banging continued, and he quickly secured the latch on the shutter that had slipped free. Dropping the log on the floor, he knelt by the body and touched it. It felt almost frozen, and he scooped the form in his arms, turning it so he could see the face.
He almost dropped her. It was a woman and not just a woman; it was Nina.
He practically tripped over Bear rushing to get her into the house. The dog was at his heels as he entered and slammed the door. Julian pulled the hood off her head, and her eyes fluttered, her beautiful dark eyes fixed on him and said his name, “Julian.”
Her eyes closed again, and he brought her to the fireplace and began stripping off her clothing. It was frozen in places, and as he worked, the warmth of the cabin softened them so they could be easily removed. When she was naked, he brought her to the bed they had shared and wrapped her in a blanket. Then he brought her back to the fireplace and sank onto the hearthstone.
She was cold, like ice and her face was windburned. He held her in his arms using his heat to gently warm her, and as he did, he began to sob. Bear stood guard, every so often, licking her face and softly whining. Julian could feel her in his arms, she was thin, and when he had undressed her, he noticed how her bones protruded.
Whoever had taken her had starved her, and God knows what else. All the pain he had endured over the past few months was over but at what price?