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We stay that way for a while, until Gabrielle dozes off, and even then, I don’t untangle myself from the uncomfortable position on her bed. As long as I’m holding her and she’s comforted in her sleep, I’m not moving.
Hours later, they allow our family to come in. They stop by with enough food to feed an army, funny anecdotes to cheer us up, and Alana brings some books and fancy skin products to keep Gabrielle happy in the hospital for however long they keep her.
“You know I’m never leaving this room while you’re here, right?” I say through a bite of pizza.
She rolls her eyes. “You won’t last twelve hours. You need to be outside, to get some answers, and we’ll both be bored to tears.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Where you are, I am. Right now, especially.”
I can’t imagine leaving her side for one second while we await news of the tests and about the baby. She’s in a bit of pain from her ribs and ankle, and I need to be here to alert anyone if she needs medical attention at any moment.
“Liam, I’m all right. Healing, and I feel better already.” She’s lying, but I’m not going to call her bluff. “You need to be out there on the farm, looking into what the hell happened.”
Just the mention of her being run over by my own equipment has venom pumping through my veins. “The police are on it, Patrick is going over there now, and the farmhands are going over the security footage. I’m of no use?—”
“No, but you know you want to be on the case, helping as much as you can,” Gabrielle interrupts me, giving me a knowing smile. “And I want you to be. I want to know if this was an accident, if I was targeted, or what. This person could have done so much harm to our baby. I won’t feel safe until this is finally solved.”
Neither will I, but I’ve been trying not to bring that up.
“You need to just rest. Don’t worry that beautiful head about anything else.” Giving her a fake, forced grin, I try not to let my unease and anger show on my expression.
“I love you, but?—”
Gabrielle’s next protest is cut off by someone rushing in the door. When my neck twists to see who it is, I’m surprised that Dad is back in the room. He left not twenty minutes ago to go over to the farm, and I hadn’t expected to hear from him for hours.
“They caught it all on the security tapes. Asshole didn’t even care about disguising or avoiding them. Like he wanted to be seen,” my father seethes, his hands in fists.
My heart drops to my feet, and Gabrielle’s face goes ashen.
“Who? Who was it?” she squeaks, her voice a meek, broken thing.
Dad gulps, his eye flitting to me. I nod, knowing we can’t shield her from this. Can’t shield her from what I now know was a targeted attack. Someone tried to take my family away from me, and they were going to pay.
“Dan Quillin. It was Dan driving the combine.”
34
GABRIELLE
Aweek after being discharged from the hospital, the police call me in to get my statement on the accident.
Liam has been trying to put them off since we know Dan Quillin is responsible, and he shouldn’t pose a threat to me anymore, but we can’t delay any longer.
The hospital and my OB gave me strict instructions for a week of modified best rest after the accident to make sure the baby doesn’t have any more excitement until he’s born months from now. At first, I was dismayed at having to sit or lie in bed for the couple of days, but I know it’s what’s best for both of our health. The other injuries are healing fine, and other than being mentally shaken and worried, I’m doing okay.
Being on bed rest means they have to bring me into the police station using a wheelchair, which I hate. But the sooner this is over, the sooner I can focus solely on growing our son in the safest manner possible.
“I can’t believe he did this,” Liam mutters for what seems like the thousandth time since we got the news of who the culprit is.
“When the police told us he confessed to ruining the crops, paying off the trespasser, and then using the combine to try and ruin the rest of the harvest”—I shake my head—“I couldn’t believe someone would actually do that.” The confusion still sits in my chest at the thought.
Dan Quillin confessed on the spot after they found video footage of him sneaking onto the Ashton property and taking the combine out of one of the farm buildings. That plus his fingerprints were enough to satisfy the police’s case, and now they need me to recount what happened from my point of view on that day.
“He’s always been such a standup man, such a wonderful neighbor and town resident. I’ve seen people in our farming community fall on hard times, but they’ve never reacted like this.” Liam shakes his head again, like he can’t reconcile the man he knew with one who would harm his family.
We’re waiting in the lobby of the police station for the detective who will take my statement. The breeze blowing in from the door each time it’s open is cooler than it has been in recent weeks, and the smell of fall is in the air. There is a water cooler across the room that keeps dripping and a phone at the nearest desk that rings periodically. It’s a small-town police station, and this is probably its biggest case in recent months.
The Ashtons apparently can’t keep out of this place, and I’m just glad that our chapter is finally coming to a close.
