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Tears pour down my face, I stare at my reflection in the mirror that hangs above the dresser, and I feel like I’m looking at a stranger. All of the ups and downs in the last few weeks have changed me in a way that I look unrecognizable.
I feel like I’ve aged five years, but I guess being kidnapped, assaulted, and almost killed could do that to a person. Not to mention the impending doom hanging over my head that the love of my life could die trying to avenge me. What the hell has happened to me? I’m living in the plot of a movie instead of real life. Now I’m mourning a child that never existed. I need to get a grip. I spend the rest of the day trying to get some work done, still not caught up from taking so many days off. The monotony of data spreadsheets and emails is always consistent, boring even, which is much needed with all the excitement in my personal life.
I work until the sun starts setting, and the days are getting shorter as it draws closer to Thanksgiving. My birthday is in a couple weeks and all I want is for all of this to be behind us. I want to sit by the fireplace at the cabin, watch a movie with Nathan, and never have to worry about either of us being killed. Seems reasonable enough.
I shake my head, clearing any hope that my life will be normal anytime soon. My phone starts vibrating, an unknown number appears on the screen. Assuming it’s a telemarketer I ignore it, letting it go to voicemail. When the same number calls back right away, I get an uneasy feeling in my gut. I answer it hesitantly, afraid of what is waiting for me on the other side of the line.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I’m calling for Callie Richards.” It’s a woman’s voice, her words are soft spoken.
“This is her.” I’m trying not to hold my breath, but my nerves are getting the better of me, I’m immediately fearing the worst.
“Hi, Callie. I’m calling from St. John’s Hospital regarding a patient that’s been admitted.” My heart sinks. I’m not familiar with the name of that hospital, so I can only assume it’s not one around here but one in North Carolina. I don’t respond but she keeps talking. “Nathan Wolfe was in an accident, he was brought in unresponsive. The doctors were able to work on him, but he’s currently in a medically induced coma.
“What? Oh my God!” I feel like I can’t breathe, my whole body is trembling uncontrollably.
“Family is being notified, it’s probably best for you to make arrangements to visit the patient as soon as you can. The doctor isn’t sure how his condition will be by morning,” she continues, giving me an address for the hospital and directions to the parking lot that will lead me to the right door. I don’t know how I managed, but I wrote what I needed on a scrap piece of paper, ending the call with the hospital worker.
I jump from my chair and immediately throw together an overnight bag, hardly paying attention to what I’m grabbing. I left a note on the kitchen counter for my parents telling them Nathan was in an accident and I needed to go back to North Carolina, I’d call them when I could.
They had gone out to run errands, but I’m worried if I tried to call them now I’d break down as soon as I heard their voices. I’m trying my best to keep my tears at bay, needing to keep myself together enough to drive the two hours to the hospital.
As I’m pulling out of the driveway, the clock on the dash tells me it’s only been fifteen minutes since I ended my phone call with the hospital. I type in the address I need as I head for the highway, hoping like hell there’s no traffic on the way there.
It’s dark, my headlights illuminating the roadway in front of me. The majority of the evening commuters are home by now, leaving me plenty of room to weave around the few cars and trucks also heading southbound. I try not to imagine Nathan lying in a hospital bed, tubes and wires littering his body, the tears already burning the backs of my eyes. The blurriness from my wet eyes makes it hard to see, so I try focusing on anything and everything else, but my thoughts are solely on Nathan laying alone in a hospital bed dying.
I crank my music up, drowning out my inner turmoil. It works enough to dry my tears for now, but it doesn’t keep the guilt away. This is all my fault. I should have fought harder to make Nathan stay out of it. I shouldn’t have let him go two weeks ago. All the caller said was that he was in an accident… Maybe it was random and didn’t have anything to do with my attackers. The chances of that seem slim, but I don’t have any answers yet, making it hard not to think the worst.
I make the drive in less than two hours, having pushed the speed limit the whole way and pull into the south lot of the hospital like I was instructed. It must be a special entrance for the ICU because there seems to be less hustle and bustle than in the parking lot next to the emergency department. I pull into the first spot I see and take a deep breath. I’m afraid. My body is a bundle of nerves, preparing for what I’m about to walk into.
The parking lot is dark, only lit by a few street lamps, but the doors of the entrance nearest to me are lit up, beckoning me to get out of my car. I take my backpack with me, not wanting to return to my car for anything if I’m stuck waiting a while.
As I make my way through a couple of rows of cars toward the entrance, my phone starts ringing. I think about ignoring it, but it could be my parents and I don’t want them to worry. I stop on the sidewalk to take the call, not wanting to disturb anyone inside since it’s late in the evening. It takes me a moment to fish my phone out of the deep pocket of my bag, but I finally grab it before the last ring.
My heart stills when I see Nathan’s name on the screen. What the hell? My hands suddenly feel clammy. Why would I be getting a call from him if he’s in intensive care? The sweat trickling down my spine tells me what my brain hasn’t come to terms with yet… I fucked up.
Chapter Forty-Four
Nathan
I rub my eyes, tired of straining to keep them open. I’ve been at this for too damn long. For two weeks I’ve been following Sheriff Donahue around, I’ve been in my truck more than my house. My ass hurts, my back aches, I’m pissed though, more than anything. I’ve been all over this town, stalking the Sheriff, waiting for him to slip up, but he hasn’t. He goes to work, goes on calls, goes to the bar, and goes home. Almost every day it’s been the same thing. A few times he’s slipped me, getting too far ahead of me while I’m trying to stay under the radar. He’s either really lucky, or he’s not as dumb as he looks. Either way, I’m sure he’ll let his guard down soon. One mistake, that’s all I need.
I’m sitting in the diner now, just down the street from the Sheriff’s department. I sip on a cup of coffee, keeping an eye on the cruiser parked right out front. It hasn’t moved in nearly two hours, even though it’s late and the Sheriff usually has gone home by now. The lights in the lobby have been turned off, but a couple of windows are still aglow, indicating the offices inside are still occupied.
The town of Whitewater is small, and the rest of Rollins County is dispersed across the mountains. If the Sheriff is corrupt, it doesn’t surprise me that he’s gotten away with it for this long. There’s no one around to check him. I wonder if more women have disappeared from the highway, their cars later towed because of an anonymous call. The number of a caller leads right back to this very police station. Jesse told me as much when I asked him to dig into it. The number was registered to the Sheriff’s Department, but not a specific person. I can only assume it was Sheriff Donahue, although I haven’t met any of the other deputies. They might be just as bad as he is, they are on his payroll, and they could very well be under his thumb in all of this.
I sigh, finishing my cup of coffee, debating on whether or not I should call it a night and crash in my bed tonight. Sleeping in my bed reminds me of Callie though, my chest gets tight just thinking about her. I miss her, but I know it’s for the best. She is safe where she is, at home in Tennessee. If she was here with me it might cause the Sheriff to do something reckless.
I wonder what she’s doing? Is she thinking about me as much as I am about her? I can only hope the physical distance hasn’t changed her mind about us, and that the novelty of our relationship hasn’t worn off.
Those thoughts are enough to make me pull my phone out and power it on. I’m in a neutral location in town, a public space. If someone were to question my whereabouts, I’m here to eat, not to be a stalker. Obviously.
The waitress brings me my change as I pull up Callie’s name to call her, I leave my tip on the table and return to my truck parked out front while it rings. It rings so long I think it’s going to voicemail, but it suddenly clicks over, like someone answered it but I don’t hear anything.
Finally, after a few seconds, I hear her. “Hello?” Her voice is so quiet, almost shallow.
“Callie?” I know it’s her, but it doesn’t necessarily sound like her either.
