Chapter Three
Alex existed in a haze. Awake, yet not awake. Aware, but not really caring. The continuous beep of the monitors above his head should have been annoying, but instead they were comforting. At least then he knew he was alive.
Occasionally, he tried to open his eyes, but found it easier just to float.
Sometimes he heard Tess’s voice and the monitors changed their beat. Grew stronger, faster. He thought he’d talked to her once, but couldn’t be sure.
“You should have died, Juran.”
Alex jerked. The monitors made a screeching sound. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed weighted down—like he was in a dream and couldn’t wake up. Except he knew this wasn’t a dream. You didn’t smell in dreams and he could smell this guy.
Old cigarettes and fear.
“You’re delaying the inevitable. You know that, don’t you?”
The person leaned in, tickling Alex’s ear with his smoker’s breath.
Scenes flashed behind his eyelids. Metal warehouses. Jason. A John Deere cap.
“Why didn’t you cooperate? Why didn’t you die?”
The voice pushed buttons inside him. He turned his head. The orange flare of a firing gun flashed through his mind. Blinding pain. Darkness. Tess.
“Sir!”
Alex jumped.
That
voice belonged to the nurse who’d been taking care of him.
“Sir, you’re not supposed to be in here. You’ll have to leave.”
The scrape of the man’s shoe and the suddenly fresh air indicated he’d stepped back.
The nurse harrumphed and Alex felt the cool touch of her fingers on his wrist. The monitors resumed their normal beat. A wave of exhaustion threatened to pull him under but his mind rebelled. Where had he heard that voice before?
“There you go, Mr. Juran. Just gave you something to help you sleep.” She patted his arm.
Black clouds of unconsciousness rushed in.
***
Tess woke with sandpaper eyes and a cotton-ball mouth. She sat up, pushed the hair out of her eyes and looked at the clock. Ten a.m.
Shoving Othello off her legs, she scrambled out of bed and raced into the shower. In record time she was in the kitchen gulping a glass of orange juice. Last night she’d had every intention of staying at the hospital but Tony and the doctors had insisted she go home and rest. She’d fallen into an exhausted sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and she hadn’t meant to sleep at all, let alone so late.
Waiting for her toast to pop up, her toes tapped an uneven rhythm on the terra cotta floor and her eyes fell on the calendar attached to the refrigerator.
Tomorrow was the final proceedings for her divorce.
Her
divorce. She’d always thought of it that way. Not Alex’s. Not even theirs. Hers. Her stomach rolled as it did every time she thought of walking into court and ending her marriage, and she wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing the right thing. Except now she had more to consider. Alex’s injury. Whether he was going to live and what his life was going to be like if—
when
—he recovered. Could she do this to him? Now?
Ever?
She grabbed the phone and dialed her attorney’s home number before she could second guess herself.
“’Lo,” the groggy voice answered on the fourth ring.
“Marlene? It’s Tess. Sorry to bother you at home on a Sunday.”
“Tess?”
Tess heard movement on the other side and a distinctive male voice. “Sorry, Marlene. You, um, sound busy.”
“No, no. Not at all. What’s up, Tess?”
Black toast popped out of the toaster and she stared at it, forming the words in her mind before she said them. “Alex was shot Friday night.”
Marlene hissed in a breath. “Oh my God, Tess. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
The odor of burnt bread made her stomach turn. She threw her breakfast to the dog, who immediately pounced on it, then she unplugged the toaster and shoved the appliance into the cabinet.
“I can’t go through with this while Alex is hurt, Marlene.”
“Tess—”
“No.” She shook her head even though Marlene couldn’t see it. “I won’t do that to him. I won’t end our marriage while he’s like this.”
Is that the only reason? Just because he’s in the hospital? Or is it an excuse?
Because even though he’d torn her heart apart with his indifference and his absences, deep down she still loved him. That was brought home to her when she was racing to the hospital, praying he was still alive.
“All right,” Marlene said on a sigh. “I’ll call the judge, he can contact Alex’s attorney.”
“Thanks, Marlene.”
“Hang in there, Tess. We’ll get you through this.”
Tess hung up and rubbed her eyes but all she could picture was Alex hooked up to those machines, tubes coming out of his leg and bags of medicine dripping into his arm.
A divorce was one thing, but Alex’s death would rip a hole inside her that all the pain that had come before couldn’t even begin to compare to.
***
Alex opened his eyes to find himself looking out a wide window where dark gray clouds heavy with snow hovered in the distance.
The absence of the machines plunged the room into an uncomfortable quiet. His throat hurt, as if he’d swallowed a watermelon whole. He licked dry lips and tasted stale rubber. God, he could use a drink right now. A tall, ice-cold beer.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.” A nurse walked in with a big smile and a stethoscope wrapped around her neck. “Welcome back, Officer Juran. There are a lot of people waiting to talk to you.”
Alex licked his lips with a dry tongue. “Water.” His voice sounded like two arguing bullfrogs and even that short word tired him out.
“Coming right up.”
The wet
glub-glub
of pouring water had his mouth salivating. Nurse Perky shoved a cup with a straw under his nose and he drank deeply.
She pulled the cup away. Water sprayed his face and he jerked back.
“Sorry, not too much at once. When that settles you can have more.”
She raised the head of his bed and he was faced with a wall of flower arrangements and dancing balloons. Bits and pieces of the last several days drifted back to him, but a complete picture refused to form. “What day is it?”
She fiddled with the IVs. “Monday, December twelfth.” She started humming the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas”.
Alex went still. “What time is it?”
“Two in the afternoon.”
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“Officer Juran, are you in pain?”
He laughed, a short bark of sound that scraped his already raw throat. Pain came in many forms. Over the last several days he’d felt physical pain like he’d never felt before and never wanted to feel again. Over the past six months, he’d discovered a completely different sort of pain.
Yeah, he was in pain all right.
“I’m fine,” he managed.
“You want me to open the curtains a little more? Looks like we’ll be getting snow. A white Christmas for sure.”
Alex shook his head.
“Okay, then. Just use this little button here—” she picked up a gray box attached to a wire,“—to call me if you need anything.”
Alex stared out the window, watching the heavy clouds drift in, and tried not to think that his marriage had ended sometime in the last hour.
Shit
. He didn’t think it would be like this. This emptiness. It wasn’t like they’d been living together or anything. He’d been out of the house for six months. And, yeah, he’d admit that they’d grown apart before that, but he’d never expected her to actually go through with the divorce.
The door opened again and a petite woman with a cap of gray hair walked in. “Hello, Mr. Juran.” She walked over to the bed and held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Ford. I worked on that knee of yours. How’s it feel?”
“I don’t feel anything.” If only his mind was as numb as his leg.
“That’s normal. When the pain meds wear off, you’ll feel it. Tell the nurse and she’ll give you more.” Dr. Ford sat in the chair next to his bed. “So,” she said, looking around. “Where’s Mrs. Juran?”
Alex blinked. “Excuse me?”
“We need to talk about your recovery and it’d be best if Mrs. Juran were here.”
“Mrs. Juran won’t be here today.”
She’s too busy ending our marriage while I’m laid up in the hospital with a bum knee.
“But she said—”
“She’s not coming.”
Dr. Ford looked confused.
“Look, Doctor, just tell me what’s going on with my knee.” Anything would be better than thinking of Tess and the divorce.
She shifted in her chair. “The bullet hit your knee, nicking the artery and shattering the bone. After the artery was fixed and your condition stabilized, we replaced the knee.”
The doctor began a long litany of things he should and should not expect over the next several days and months, but all he heard was
replace the knee
. Good God, his knee? What the hell? He knew he’d been shot in the knee, had figured an artery had been hit and he’d probably bleed out before help arrived. But after he’d woken up, he’d hoped it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.
His knee.
Gone.
Shattered.
Like his marriage. How ironic.
He waved the doctor’s words away with a swipe of his hand. “What about my job? When can I go back to work?”
She shifted again and looked uneasy. “I’d really prefer it if Mrs.—”
“Look,” he ground out, “
Mrs
. Juran isn’t returning.” There wasn’t a
Mrs
. Juran anymore but he’d be damned if he told her that. “When can I go back to work?”
Her eyes met his. The scent of antiseptic and rubbing alcohol mixed with the flowers made him feel sick to his stomach, but he didn’t think it had anything to do with the odors in the room.
“We won’t know for at least four months,” she said.
“So in four months I can go back?”
“In four months we’ll re-evaluate the situation.”
“So it could take longer? Say, six months?”
She looked at him with sad eyes.
“Tell me.” His voice sounded rough and he thought of that beer somewhere out there with his name on it.
“You may never return to police work, Mr. Juran. I’m sorry.”
Alex closed his eyes. Oh, yeah, there were different kinds of pain, and his had just taken a whole new turn.
He opened his eyes and stared at the happy-face balloons and the banners on the flower arrangements demanding he “get well soon”.
In one day, he’d lost his wife, his career. His
life
.
Dr. Ford’s beeper went off. She looked at the screen and muttered something. “I have to take this call. I’ll be right back so we can discuss this further. Maybe by then Mrs. Juran will be back.” She hurried out the door.
He gritted his teeth, half wishing he hadn’t been wearing his vest and the bullet had entered his heart. He’d rather meet death head-on because it would be a hell of a lot easier than living his life without Tess and without the career he loved.
The door opened again and he looked up, expecting Dr. Ford.
It was Tess who stood in the doorway, the lights from the outside hall backlighting her.
God, she was beautiful. Her long red hair was done up in what she laughingly called a messy bun. A short brown turtleneck sweater just barely met her form-fitting, well-worn jeans. She held a can of root beer—her favorite drink—nearly crushing the aluminum in her tight grip. “Hello, Alex.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” He hurt everywhere and some perverse part of him wanted her to hurt just as much. Of course, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t hurt her enough in the past. After all, it was why she’d kicked him out and filed for divorce.
She lifted her chin. “Has Dr. Ford been in yet?”
“What do you care?”
She looked pale, the freckles on her nose more prominent. “I care,” she said in that soft voice she used when he’d been overly harsh with her. A tone he’d heard more and more often in the end.
The door opened again—honestly, the hospital administration should make it revolving—and Tony strolled in. “Hey, my man, rumor had it you’d decided to rejoin the living.”
Tony looked at Tess, then back to Alex, apparently sensing the tightly strung emotions between them. “Uh, you want me to leave?”
Alex eyed Tony’s BDUs and attempted to ignore Tess, who stood awkwardly on the other side of the room. “Tell me you’ve got a beer in one of those deep pockets for me, Blankenship.”
“Yeah, right. With the meds you’re on? What, you have a death wish?”
Alex didn’t laugh. Maybe. Probably.
“So…” Tony sauntered over to the bed. “Thought I’d get to you before the chief and LT.”
“Yeah?”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Spill it. What happened the other night that everything got so fucked up?”
Alex looked at him, his mind a blank.
“Who the hell shot you, partner? Who killed your contact?”
“Tony, I don’t think this is the time,” Tess said from far away.
But Alex wasn’t paying attention. Beyond the actual bullet and what it had done to him, he hadn’t had time to think about what went down that night. He remembered walking through the warehouses, the adrenaline swimming through him, and the long, low bellow of a riverboat. He remembered meeting up with Jason and he recalled the pain of the bullet as it ripped through his knee, rolling to avoid the shot to his chest, waiting for the ambulance.
What he didn’t remember was who shot him and who killed Jason.
Chapter Four
“Out!” Dr. Ford’s voice rang above the chief’s, the lieutenant’s, Tony’s and several detectives Tess didn’t recognize.
They all looked at the doctor as if amazed anyone had the balls to interrupt them. The doctor pushed the lieutenant on the shoulder and pulled the chief by his sleeve. The others followed, meek as lambs, until the room was empty except for her, Dr. Ford and Alex.
Alex leaned back and closed his eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead. Dark smudges circled his eyes and bruises dotted his face. Tess wanted to go to him but stayed where she was, too afraid to make that first move.
With the room finally quiet, Dr. Ford turned to Tess. “You can stay, Mrs. Juran.”
“No.” Alex opened his eyes and rolled his head in Tess’s direction. “She needs to leave too.”
Their gazes collided, his filled with anger and pain.
“Alex, please don’t do this.”
He closed his eyes again and turned away.
“Alex—”
“I don’t want her here,” he said to the doctor. “Make her leave.”
Dr. Ford looked at the floor while Tess stared at her husband. She’d known he was bitter and angry over what he considered her abandonment of their marriage, but hadn’t realized how deeply she had hurt him when she asked him to leave six months ago. She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Quietly she stepped forward and placed a tube of lip balm on the bed beside his hand and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
The group who’d been pushed out of Alex’s room stood in a huddle farther down the hall.
Roger leaned a shoulder on the wall next to her. “I heard he was awake.”
“Yeah.” Tess rubbed her tired eyes and moved her feet so a janitor wouldn’t roll over them with his mop bucket.
“I also heard he can’t remember.”
Alex’s announcement that he couldn’t remember what happened the night he’d been shot was what had caused the uproar and the subsequent removal of everyone in his room.
“What’s the doctor saying?” Roger asked.
“We haven’t spoken yet.” Because half the brass in the police department had crowded in. Crowded her out. She shouldn’t be surprised. After all, the force was what had driven them apart. That it was happening again should have been expected.
She understood why everyone was concerned. Alex’s shooter was out there and probably knew Alex was alive. Had Alex seen his face? Was the identity of the murderer locked somewhere in Alex’s mind?
“Mrs. Juran?” Dr. Ford approached. “We need to discuss Mr. Juran’s recovery. Do you have a minute?”
Tess nodded. After the humiliating incident in Alex’s room, she was surprised the doctor would want to speak to her. Dr. Ford glanced at the knot of uniforms, then motioned Tess into an empty room.
“Maybe I should go with you.” Roger pushed away from the wall.
Remembering how alone she’d felt when she talked to the ER doctor, Tess agreed. Roger wasn’t her first choice, but he was family, and right now Tess didn’t trust herself to think clearly enough to make the right decisions.
When they were settled, Dr. Ford said, “Does Mr. Juran have any other family?”
Cheeks burning in embarrassment, Tess shook her head. “Just me, even though he would deny that.”
“Yes, well.” Dr. Ford looked away, then back. “He’ll need someone to care for him once he’s released. To take him to his doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. He won’t be able to get around very well for a while.”
“There’s no one else,” she said. “I guess it will have to be me.” If Alex would even let her take care of him.
The doctor touched her knee. “He’s been traumatized. Both his body and his mind. Sometimes that leads people to say—”
“Thank you, Doctor, but Alex was angry with me long before this.”
The doctor pressed her lips together and nodded. “Very well. Let’s talk about his injuries. Mr. Juran suffers from Critical Incident Amnesia. Which is a fancy way of saying he doesn’t remember what happened the night he was shot.”
“None of it?” Roger asked.
“Bits and pieces. This is common in victims who have suffered a stressful experience. Especially police officers. It’s worse for them because more often than not some important piece of information is locked in their minds. Something that might be critical to a case.”
Like the identity of a killer.
“Usually patients recover their full memory after a good night’s rest, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here,” Dr. Ford said.
“Will he ever remember?” Roger asked.
“The mind is a tricky thing. Only time will tell.”
***
Alex was staring out the window, turning the stick of lip balm in his hand when his door opened again. He ignored whoever it was. For the past several hours he’d been reliving the night he’d been shot. Or trying to. He could get so far, to the point where Jason arrived, then his mind jumped to being shot. Everything in between was gone, no matter how hard he tried to remember. Forcing it seemed to make it worse, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Alex?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped and he squeezed the lip balm. “What do you want?”
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
“Officer Juran, we need to discuss your recuperation,” Dr. Ford said.
“
She
doesn’t need to be here for that.” He still hadn’t turned to them, was still staring at the heavy gray clouds that didn’t seem to move. The lip balm had helped. His lips had been so sore and chapped. Tess always did seem to know exactly what he needed. Or at least she had at one point. And he had known what she had needed too. Until everything went to hell and somehow they’d lost the ability.
Or stopped caring.
He heard Tess sigh and shuffle her feet.
“If all goes well,” the doctor said, “you’ll be released in a few days. You can’t live alone.”
“I’ll think of something.”
“Stay with me, Alex,” Tess said. “Let me help you.”
He jerked his head around. “No.”
Hell
no
.
“Alex, be reasonable.”
His gaze swung to the doctor. “What about Drake Center? That rehab place? I’m sure I’ll need some sort of rehab.”
Dr. Ford was shaking her head before he even finished. “Yes, you need rehab but not the inpatient kind. Mrs. Juran—”
“I’m not staying with
her
!”
Tess looked at him, her face pale, her eyes so damn sad. There’d been a point in his life, years of his life, where he would have done anything to erase such sadness inside her. To know that he still wanted to, even after she’d given up on them, made him angry.
“I’m sorry, Alex,” Tess said. “I know this is the last thing you want, but—”
“What about Tony? I’ll stay with Tony.”
“Tony lives on the fourth floor, with no elevator.”
“Stairs are out of the question,” Dr. Ford said.
“I’ll move.”
“Alex—”
He pointed a finger at her. “No one asked you to be here. You’re through with me, remember?”
She stepped forward and her pale complexion fired up to bright red. It’d been a long time since he’d seen this side of Tess. He always did like it when she got spitting mad. “I believe you were the one who asked for me—”
“Like hell!” But he knew he had.
That
he remembered.
“Like hell, nothing, Alexandre Juran.” She took another step closer. Man, she was magnificent. “You asked for me, called for me. When the ambulance took you to the helicopter, while in the emergency room, while waiting to go into surgery, you called for
me
. Who’s been here all these days and nights by your side? Me.” She pounded her chest with her fist.
“That’s enough.” Dr. Ford stepped between them, her arms raised out to her sides as if separating two wrestlers. She turned to Alex. “You have to stay with Mrs. Juran. You can’t live by yourself. You can’t even drive. Who’ll take you to your doctor’s appointments and physical therapy? Mr. Juran, you have no other options.”
***
Tess positioned the walker in the opened passenger van door.
“Get that thing the hell out of my face,” Alex snarled.
She nudged the contraption with a bump of her hip. “I may be strong, but I won’t be able to catch you if you fall on your face.”
With a growl, he hoisted himself out and grabbed the walker. He hated it, despised it. Wanted to burn it and dance a jig while the damn thing incinerated. But he couldn’t dance and he couldn’t walk without its support.
He eyed the distance between the van and the house and began his awkward shuffle to the front porch, Tess beside him every painful step of the way. It’d been four days since they’d told him he had to live with Tess during his recovery. As if he were some damn invalid who couldn’t make a decision on his own. Of course as soon as he was given his walker and had attempted to walk, he’d known what a fool he’d been. Not that he’d admitted it and not that he would anytime soon either.
This wasn’t at all the way he envisioned his homecoming.
Yeah. That was him all right. Home for the holidays.
Shit.
The door swung open before Tess could put her key in the lock, and Roger stepped out.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Alex all but growled.
Roger looked him over with a critical eye. Tess’s sister rushed forward, opening the door wider. “Roger thought you might need some help.” She took hold of his arm in an attempt to help him.
Alex glanced over her pregnant belly then back to Roger before he pulled away and gripped the walker. “I’m fine.”
The three stood back as he placed the walker in the entryway then heaved himself up the small step. He shoved away the image of the thousands of times he’d bounded into this house, never giving that small raised piece of concrete a second thought.
Roger watched him in silence and Alex scowled. “This isn’t a damn freak show.”
Shannon touched his arm. “I’m sorry this happened.”
Alex shoved down the urge to shake her hand away, realizing he was being an ass to Tess’s family. Although they weren’t his favorite people, he usually tolerated Shannon’s theatrics because she was Tess’s sister, but the two of them were grating on his last nerve.
“We should go,” Roger said quietly. “Tess, let us know if you need anything.”
A stiff wind blew in from the open door and Alex shivered as he made his way into the living room. It felt good to be home.
Home
.
The house he and Tess had picked out together and decorated together. His apartment had never been home to him. Just a place to park his ass between shifts.
It looked the same. Except the photos of the two of them were gone. His anger multiplied at the thought that she’d shoved their pictures in a drawer somewhere because she was so damn eager to be rid of him. And now here he was, back at the house. An invalid.
“I’m sorry.” Tess closed the door. “I didn’t ask them here.”
He didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what the hell to say to her anymore. Before she’d asked him to leave there had been nothing but stony silence between them. It’d been a long time since they’d had a decent conversation.
She sighed, apparently frustrated as always with his lack of communication, and went down the hall to free Othello.
His dog ran toward him and for the first time since waking in the hospital, Alex smiled. “The Big O! How ya doin’, boy?” He scratched behind the dog’s ear. Othello squirmed in ecstasy and pressed his large body into Alex’s good leg.
“You should rest.” Tess stared at the dog and crossed her arms.
“Don’t baby me.” He straightened. Othello butted his hand and licked his fingers.
“Well,” Tess said. “Okay. Are you hungry, then?”
“I could eat.”
She disappeared into the kitchen and Othello followed, looking back at Alex with hopeful brown eyes.
“I’m coming,” he muttered, grabbing the handles of the walker.
He whistled when he entered the kitchen. For as long as he could remember, Tess had wanted a new oven and refrigerator for her small catering business. Now a stainless steel gas oven stood in place of the old one. The refrigerator had been swapped for a restaurant-sized double-door job. Canister lights lit an island work area as big as the bathroom in his apartment. Cherry cabinets, granite counters and a terra cotta floor completed the rehab.
He lowered himself into a kitchen chair. Same table and chairs. The set they’d picked out together shortly after they got married. He ran his hand over the scarred surface. At least she’d kept the table and chairs.
“Business must be good,” he said.
“Pretty good.” She opened a cabinet and took out some plates.
“I like what you’ve done.”
“Thanks.”
There was a long silence as Othello settled his head in Alex’s lap and Alex stroked his ears. “So, Shannon’s pregnant again.”
“Yes.” Tess pulled bread out of a built-in breadbox that hadn’t been there before.
“How many does this make?”
“Four.” She reached for the peanut butter then opened the fridge for the jelly. She slathered several pieces of bread with the peanut butter and jelly, and placed two sandwiches on a plate. She’d always loved to bake but cooking hadn’t been her favorite.
“Does it bother you?”
“I’m fine with it.” Grabbing the plate and a bag of chips in one hand, she opened the fridge again, took out two cans, and kicked the door closed. She placed everything but her root beer in front of him.
Alex took hold of her hand before she had a chance to escape to the other side of the kitchen. A panicked look crossed her face but she didn’t pull away. “Are you really fine with it?”
“I’ve accepted it.”
He dropped her hand and turned to his food, disappointed that it had come to this. If he’d had any illusions of fixing their marriage, they were gone now. She’d made sure of that while he lay in a hospital bed with a shattered knee and an equally shattered career.
Tess leaned against the island and sipped her root beer while Alex ate his sandwiches.
“I’m glad you’re all right.”
“Are you?” He ate a chip and watched her, missing nothing. Not the fleeting look of pain. Not the tense way she held her shoulders or the nervous habit she had of playing with the tab on her can.