Indelible (39 page)

“Know you?”

“The last few days you haven’t remembered … everything.”

“I’m sorry.” Her face softened. He canted his head. “Sorry.”

“I can imagine how that felt.” Her eyes were purple wells, her skin translucent—and she worried how he felt.

“I just want you back.”

Something flickered over her face. Pain? Fear?

She said, “Can I go home? Will you please see if I can go home now?”

When Trevor went out, Natalie studied the IV port connecting her to this place for the past
two weeks
. She stared at the amber walls, the monitors, the poster art, the black female nurse who came in with Trevor. She held the thickly lashed eyes as the woman introduced herself and said Dr. Derozier had signed her discharge that morning.

They must not realize she was broken.

She’d lain on the rock, becoming clay. Trevor called her back, but she’d left part of herself behind—the part he’d found courageous. What was there now for someone like him? No glitz like his supermodels, no fire like Jaz. Who was she?

“Just because you’re out of here, don’t expect smooth sailing,” the nurse said. “You might experience headaches, dizziness, an inability to concentrate, and fatigue.”

No kidding?

“Don’t be surprised if you’re restless and irritable, but if the symptoms increase or intensify, call your doctor.”

Restless and irritable, right
.

“Posttraumatic seizures can develop a month to three months after the injury. Frequent, heavy use of alcohol increases that risk.”

“So I shouldn’t get bombed tonight?”

The woman arched a brow. “Honey, after what you survived, I’d be pampering my brain. Lay off the caffeine and take a vacation. You’ve got healing to do.”

Her hand felt awkward as she signed the forms. A simple thing, writing her name, but she had to focus on each letter, biting her lip to concentrate. If the nurse noticed the difficulty, they might not let her go.

As Trevor got her things packed, Aaron arrived. The hug he gave her went on and on. Oh, how she loved him. “You’re out of your cast.” She beamed. “Good as new?”

“Getting there. But forget about me.” He leaned his head back. “How are you?”

“I’m going to be fine.” She had no choice. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away and whoever hides her gift loses it. But what should she have done, show the faces? Let people see themselves as God saw them? Everything inside displayed for all the world?

“I finally reached our folks, and here you are going home.”

“Are they worried?”

“Of course they are. But your news was better than mine.” His shoulders slumped. “Paige is leaving.”

Natalie searched his face. “She’s … How …” Words were too hard.

“They’ve canned the dissociation theory and decided that, in her right mind, she doesn’t want to raise a disabled child. It’s not what she signed on for.” His voice was bleak and angry.

“Oh, Aaron. Will she see him at least?”

“She’s not requesting custody. Or visitation.”

Poor little Cody. How could she!

“The truth is, she mostly had him with a nanny. With my traveling so much, I could hardly blame her, but now I wish … Anyway …”

No wonder he hadn’t cried for his mommy. He’d hardly had one.

Aaron turned to Trevor. “I have my hands full right now. Can you look after my sister?”

She said, “I don’t need that.”

Trevor slid her a look. “The guy who did this—”

“I can’t remember him. I don’t know anything that happened after hearing Chief—what I thought was Chief Westfall.” She put a hand to the bandage.

“Your assailant doesn’t know that.”

At this point she didn’t care. “I just need to go home.”

“Until they get him, you’re coming home with me.”

“That’s not your decision.” A flash of fury must be the emotional volatility they kept talking about.

“I have gated access, keyed elevator and doors. As secure as it’s going to get.”

Aaron stared at her, puzzled. “Do it, Nat. Don’t take chances.”

They were right. But she felt like crawling out of her skin. “I wish everyone would leave me alone.”

Trevor’s stare penetrated. Whatever he was thinking, she couldn’t tell.

He said, “You’ll have your own space.”

Clenching her jaw, she ground out, “Okay, fine. Until they catch him.”

They were both so relieved she ought to feel good. She felt fractious. Combative. More hugs from Aaron, then the wheelchair the nurse had gone to fetch. Not sound enough to walk, she guessed, but good enough to leave, thank God.

Trevor pulled his SUV to the curb. She transferred herself into the vehicle, and they started the long trek home. Hordes of sightseers ogling the last glorious display of aspen turned the road into a bloated snake. Why couldn’t they all go home? She tapped her fingers on the armrest and stared out.

Finally they reached the exit. “Can you take me to the gallery?”

With his wrist tucked over the wheel, Trevor turned. “It hasn’t been cleaned up from the crime techs and … blood.”

“Oh.” Sorrow and fear overwhelmed her. The dream felt broken. She felt broken. Would she even sculpt again?

Trevor let her into his condo and took the bags they’d packed at her place into the guest room. “How are you feeling?”

She looked around her. “Weird.”

“You’re not trapping images, are you?”

She should have known he’d realize it. “Everything’s just there. Solid.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know. What I had was crazy hard, but God made me different for a reason.” She looked him square in the face. “I couldn’t change the world, but I could see. I saw with
his
eyes.” Those she’d shown had been impacted. Even Jaz. “Now it’s gone, and I can’t help thinking I wasted it.”

“You’re far from healed.”

She pressed her fingers to her temples remembering the lights inside her head. Had the blow, the damage to the top of brain where more happened than anyone knew, destroyed the nerve connections that made her different? People got hit by lightning and woke up with synesthesia, amnesia, and who knew what else. Strokes and aneurisms—

“I’m not making light of it, Nattie, but we were preparing for worse. When you spoke that first time …” His voice hoarsened.

“You’re right. I should be grateful. I am grateful. For so much. I just don’t … know who to be.”

He took her hands and brought them to his lips. “Then just be.”

Fleur hurried into the sun porch, biting her lip. “Tell me I’m not crazy.”

“Saner than sane,” Piper assured her.

“Okay, because I invited Seth Newly to dinner.”

Piper’s paperback snapped closed. “Our own Officer Newly, Redford PD?”

She nodded. “How else can we find out what’s happening on Natalie’s case?”

“I know, right? Jonah won’t even discuss it with Tia—believe me, I’ve tried that source.”

Fleur wrung her hands. “Want to cook? We could invite Miles and make it four. That might not be as obvious.”

“Why not?” Piper laughed. “Start cleaning.”

For Natalie’s sake and her own peace of mind, she had to know progress was being made. But the nerves that gave her work a frantic edge were also about Seth Newly, about freeing hopes and feelings she had bottled up since the blindness, about daring to feel like a woman.

Three hours later, the house smelled of lemon-scented Lysol, coq au vin with raspberries, roasted baby potatoes with wild mountain sage, and an arugula salad from herbs in the sunroom.

Piper said, “As suppressed as Miles is in other areas, he has an adventurous palate. I can count on his honest opinion too.”

Fleur smiled. One day, maybe, her hands would know how Miles looked, but for now she had only the impression of his size and the awkward way he moved through space. “He’s not inhibited by tact.”

They laughed.

“And he’s so cute with his new haircut. I wish you could see.”

Something she only experienced every hour of every day.

“That old helmet head spoiled the effect of the expensive clothes he never wears out and used to throw away until I convinced him to let me launder and pass them on.”

“Good for you.”

“He shuddered at the thought, but my teddy’s agreeable any way he can be.”

That was true.

“He’s just a sweet, beautiful man who got mixed up too early. Unmixing him is proving a long process. But one thing I learned growing up in my family is that I’m not looking for the easy road.”

“He’s very lucky to have you.”

“Speaking of that—Officer Newly just climbed out, all scrubbed and eager with his hair standing out at odd angles. I could fix that, but it would spoil the effect.”

Fleur’s pulse quickened. “Tell me everything before he gets to the door.”

“He’s cute in a squeezable way, and he brought you white spider mums. I think he’s already blushing.”

Fleur elbowed her.

“And here’s Miles with wine. It was probably bottled by monks in the fifth century.”

Admitting both men, she heard Miles whisper to Piper,
“In vino veritas.”
He was obviously in on the plan.

Seth said, “I know you have that whole room of plants and flowers, so I brought these potted ones. They don’t smell great, but—”

“Thank you, Seth. I love spider mums.” No harm cheating a little.

Seth proved a loquacious guest. Primed with vine and vittles—or maybe the company?—he creaked back in his chair and said, “While I can’t say it’s safe in Redford yet, there won’t be much to worry about soon. Pretty sure we’ll be seeing some FBI around.”

“FBI?” Fleur paused with her cup raised. “Doesn’t there have to be kidnapping or crimes in other states or something?”

“Between you and me”—she felt him lean in—“there might be both. Look what happened to Michaela. And the other stuff? This guy’s not normal.”

“What stuff could be worse than leaving Michaela on that ledge?” Piper teased for details.

“Leaving toddlers in streets and babies in trees. Oh, and one kid for the alligators.”

“You can’t be serious.” Fleur expected him to burst out with,
“Just teasing the blind chick.”
He must realize what they were up to and be fooling them back.

“No, really. And the kicker is, he’s got devil horns and bat wings and a face straight from hell.”

Now she was insulted. “If you didn’t want to tell us, you should just say so.”

“I’m not kidding.” He sounded defensive. “That’s all in the case file. I guess you’d say the guy’s a demon bat.”

When had the room gotten so cold, the air so heavy?

“So he’s in disguise.” Concern and doubt threaded Piper’s voice.

“It’s a game,” Miles said. “Hurting people. Hurting people’s a game.”

Fleur shook her head. “It can’t be a game. There must be something deeply disturbed in him.” She had wanted this information, but now she wished she’d never asked.

“Makes no difference,” Seth said. “When we get him, he’s toast.”