Epiphany (Legacy of Payne) (29 page)

“Mac, wake up!” Was that Joe?

The pain receded and the voices became garbled background noise until they disappeared altogether. The scene shifted as I floated toward the light, and I found myself staring down into my own slate gray eyes. Sweat dripped down my face, and my complexion was as white as the sheet covering the table beneath me. Aidan stood to my side, though something was different about him. Contentment softened his face, drove the pain from his eyes. I jumped when my lips parted and expelled a long, animalistic sound—a cross between a grunt and a scream.

Oh my God! What the heck was going on?

My doppelgänger gripped his hand, using such incredible strength that her knuckles turned ash-white. Another scream tore through the air, and I was so transfixed that I failed to notice the doctor that rushed into the room until his bulky form blocked my view. Time shifted, appeared to matter no longer. More agonizing cries, growing louder . . . louder still. I squeezed my eyes shut and plugged my ears to block out the terrifying sound.

When I opened my eyes, the scene below didn’t make any sense. The doctor laid a slippery newborn onto the stomach of the mother . . . me. The baby wailed; a symphony compared to the screams I’d heard just minutes ago. Tears brightened Aidan’s eyes as he gazed at the baby, and I was stunned when he leaned over and kissed the woman who looked so much like me but couldn’t possibly be me. Brothers and sisters didn’t have babies together.

The vision faded as I crashed into inky blackness, and I wondered at the strange sensation of air rushing into my lungs.

“Come on, dammit! Please, baby—” Aidan’s voice broke, and I felt another rush of air. “Breathe!”

I coughed and gasped.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Come back to me.”

“Is she breathing?” Joe’s voice was abnormally high, like he was a moment away from losing it.

“She’s breathing,” he said. I wanted to reach for him when he pulled away, but I couldn’t get my arms to move. “Bastard’s gonna pay for this.”

“Aidan!” shouted a third voice. “No!”

Sirens blared, growing rapidly closer, and tires turned and slowed over gravel as footsteps pounded the ground outside. The third voice—the one I hadn’t been able to place—barked orders in quick spurts. “I’m going after them,” he announced.

“No, we’ll handle this,” someone else said with authority.

“My son’s out there!”

“My point exactly. You’re too close to this.”

Footsteps scurried around me. I coughed again and opened my eyes. Joe’s face swam above, and everything else blurred. People crowded the space as two of them loaded me onto a stretcher. They wheeled me into the chilly night, and the strobing lights of the emergency vehicles lit up the surrounding trees.

I shut my eyes as the doors of the ambulance slammed, and the only thing that penetrated my consciousness was the blast echoing in the distance—as startling as a mortar on the Fourth of July.

* * *
 

I recalled my rescue in snippets, like vague, disjointed fragments from a long ago dream. Joe’s face, Aidan’s voice . . . more voices . . . sirens, flashing lights, and fireworks. Wait . . . fireworks?

Obviously, my mind was as disorganized as my memories.

“Ms. Hill?”

My eyes fluttered open and landed on the woman the voice belonged to. She couldn’t have been much older than me. Her long, honey locks were pulled into a tight ponytail, and the white of her uniform was as blindingly bright as the light overhead. “Welcome back.”

“How long have I been here?” Wherever here was. The room resembled a hospital room, yet the décor was warmer than I’d expect. Pictures of the ocean and the lighthouse hung on walls painted a deep crème.

“You were moved up here about an hour ago. You became agitated in the ER, so they gave you a sedative. You don’t remember any of it?”

“No,” I whispered, trying to keep my emotions under control.

She patted my hand. “Try not to worry.” She took my blood pressure and frowned. “Can I get you anything?

I shook my head.

“The doctor will be in shortly.” She handed me a control attached to a thick wire. “Press the call button if you need anything.” I was grateful when she dimmed the lights on her way out.

Yet the darkness brought a new onslaught of memories. Rope tightening around my neck as hands ripped the clothes from my body, and my panic at being unable to breathe. I swallowed a sob as I recalled the moment I’d given up—the moment I’d accepted death.

Staring into the vacant hall through watery eyes, I imagined Judd strolling through the open doorway—imagined him finishing what he’d started. A bone deep chill went through me until every part of my body shook. Being alone was probably the last thing I needed right now.

But where was everyone? Where was Aidan? I reached for the call button just as a doctor entered.

“I’m Dr. Armstrong. How are you feeling?”

“Confused . . . scared.” I wiped the moisture from my face.

“It’s no wonder after the ordeal you went through.” She glanced at the chart in her hands. “With your consent, I’d like to start a rape kit.”

My eyes widened. “I wasn’t . . . he didn’t . . .”

Her expression softened. “Are you sure? You were unconscious when they found you, and the paramedics worried you might have been.”

“I-I don’t remember being raped . . .”

“Let’s collect some samples just in case, okay?”

“Okay.” I raised my eyes to hers. “Can I see Aidan first? Aidan Payne? Where is he?” My heart pounded as I waited for an answer.

She didn’t give one. She placed her hand on my arm and asked, “Are you up to speaking with Agent Kipp? She’s been waiting to get your statement.”

“No,” I said without hesitation. The last thing I wanted was to deal with the FBI.

“I’ll tell her to come back later then. I’m going to put in the order for the rape kit. In the meantime, someone’s been antsy to see you. Want me to send him in?”

I nodded, eager to see Aidan’s face.

“I’ll be back shortly.” She left, and a few moments later my visitor hurried in. But it was Joe, not Aidan, who stepped to my bedside.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Where’s Aidan?”

His face fell, though he recovered quickly enough. He collapsed into the chair next to my bed. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. I’ve been pacing the halls for the past hour.” He ran both of his hands through his hair. “Mac . . . I’ve never been so scared in my life. When we found you—”

“How did you find me? And where’s Aidan? Judd told me . . .”

“I’ve got news for you. He’s not coming. I made sure of that.”

But he did come. I remembered hearing his voice. “What happened, Joe?”

“I heard you screaming on the phone, so I went to the police. I followed the sheriff to Aidan’s place and we found him unconscious.”

“But I
heard
him.”

“He came to, and that’s when the sheriff found your drawing. He recognized the cabin. If not for that, we probably wouldn’t have found you in time. Shit, Mac, they found a tracking device on your car. Sicko was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to get at you.” He grew uncomfortable and avoided my gaze. He was holding back something. I was sure of it.

“Just tell me.” A burning sting ignited behind my eyelids. “He’d be here if he could . . .” I inhaled sharply.
“Please, Joe . . . oh God! Where is he?”

“He went after Judd.”

A loud blast echoed in my mind, a vague recollection of something I didn’t want to remember. “What happened?” I studied his expression and tried to keep mine from shattering. When he failed to answer, I pushed back the blankets and hopped from bed. The room spun around me, and I promptly fell into his arms and clung to him.

“Tell me,” I pleaded. “Tell me he’s okay.”

“He’s in surgery right now,” he said, his voice so low I could tell he didn’t want to continue. “He tried to stop Judd from running, and he got shot.”

I untangled from his arms and fell to the bed. Curling into the fetal position, I sobbed into my pillow. He was going to die, just like in my dreams. Joe’s voice rattled off more words, but I couldn’t hear him. He gripped my shoulders and gave me a shake.

“Mac! The doctors are optimistic he’ll pull through.”

“Go,” I moaned. He was worried about me enough to say anything if he thought it would help. I wouldn’t believe Aidan was okay until I saw it for myself.

“Mac, please.”

“I want to be alone.”

I heard him shuffle away. “Your mom should be here soon. I heard Aidan’s parents are on their way too.”

Hamilton. The thought of him angered me. I welcomed anger—it was easier to deal with than despair. “Joe?”

He was back by my side in an instant. “What is it?”

“Let me know when he gets out of surgery.”

“Of course.”

“Will you tell the nurses I don’t want to see Hamilton Payne?” I risked a glance up and took in the perplexed line of his mouth.

“Okay,” he said slowly, nodding as if he understood when clearly he didn’t.

I turned my back to him and hugged my pillow. He remained silent for a few moments before his quiet steps took him into the hall.

I was emotionless by the time Dr. Armstrong returned, accompanied by the nurse who’d greeted me when I’d awakened. She pushed a cart in and closed the door, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at all the supplies on the tray. Instead, I kept my gaze fastened on the ceiling and prepared myself for what was to come.

After it was over, I waited—for news about Aidan, for the doctor to tell me I hadn’t blocked Judd doing the unthinkable. She returned at dawn, and I pounced before she reached the side of my bed.

“Is Aidan out of surgery yet?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.” She took a seat and offered me a reassuring smile. “From what I could tell, you weren’t raped.” She glanced at the chart in her hands. “And there’s no sign of miscarriage, so that’s good.”

My world stopped. “Wh-what?”

She tilted her head. “You weren’t aware of your pregnancy?”

“No!” I cried, horrified.

“You’re not very far along, so I’m not surprised you didn’t notice a missed period.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. I’m on birth control.”

“Birth control isn’t one hundred percent effective.”

“I know, but . . .” I brought a fist to my mouth and calculated the time Aidan and I had spent together; it couldn’t have been more than two weeks since our first time. I lowered my face into my hands and fell apart.

“Is there anything I can get you? Anyone I can call?”

“I just want out of here.”

“Soon. Eat breakfast first, then I’ll prepare your discharge papers.”

I folded my arms, more of a defensive gesture than anything else, and avoided the sympathy in her expression. Or maybe it was more in line with pity. I hated pity.

“If you need someone to talk to, I can get you a referral. You’ve been through a lot.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather not.”

She looked as if she wanted to press the issue, and I was thankful when she didn’t.

“Agent Kipp is here again,” she said. “Should I send her in?”

I shook my head. “I want to talk to Sheriff McFayden.”

“He’s here too, but we thought you might be more comfortable with a woman.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“I’ll let him know. Are you sure you don’t need anything?” She brushed chestnut colored bangs from her eyes as she waited for my answer.

“I’m sure.” I could have used a painkiller for the throbbing in my temples, though the strongest painkiller on Earth wouldn’t take away the deep ache in my heart.

“You wanted to see me?”

I jumped, startled to find Sheriff McFayden standing in the doorway holding a tray in his hands.

“Breakfast,” he said, as if I’d asked for an explanation. “I told the nurse I’d bring it in since I was headed in here anyway.” He set the tray on a table, and I willed my pulse to return to normal. I expected him to lower into the chair at my bedside, but he focused on the window instead. The blinds were drawn, though a bit of light leaked through. I’d lost all sense of time. The whole night had gone by in a surreal blur.

“Is Aidan out of surgery yet?”

He nodded. “The bullet grazed his liver, and he lost a lot of blood, but he’s okay. He’s in recovery.”

His words caused a dam to burst in me. I clutched my stomach as the most intense form of relief I’d ever experienced rushed through me. “When can I see him?”

“He’ll be in recovery for a while.” McFayden pointed toward my cooling breakfast. “You should try and eat something.”

I grabbed a banana nut muffin and picked at it. “Why did Judd do it, Sheriff?”

He dropped his head, and the haggard lines on his face reminded me of Aidan on the night of Halloween; it was the image of devastation. “I don’t know, Ms. Hill.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes as he lowered his tall frame into a chair.

“I had a vision about him.”

His eyes widened. “About Judd?”

I played with the edge of my blanket and avoided eye contact. Suddenly, I wondered if he was aware of what his son had endured while growing up. “I saw him as a child.”

“I wasn’t around when he was young,” he said, and the regret in his tone made me lift my head. He swallowed hard. “His mother wasn’t . . . right in the head. She took off with him shortly after we divorced. I didn’t see him for years.”

I shivered, remembering how utterly abandoned Judd had felt. “Did you know he was abused?”

“I suspected. His mother committed suicide when he was twelve, and he went to therapy when he came to live with me, but it was hard to know if it helped. No one could get him to open up.”

Obviously, it hadn’t helped or he wouldn’t have turned into such a psycho. He blinked several times, and I looked away, giving him a few moments to collect himself.

“His childhood was rough, but that doesn’t excuse him for what he’s done.” He sighed. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about any of this.”

“Other than Judd, you’re the only one who can give me answers.”

“I wish I could give you answers.” He appeared to have aged ten years overnight, and that was never more apparent than when he raised his head and looked at me with tired, red-rimmed eyes. “I want you to feel one-hundred percent safe, so I’ve upped the security here. He won’t get near you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t begin to apologize for what he’s done.”