The Acceptance s-2 Page 11

  He nodded and reached for the door.

  When he had it open, Gaby said, “But Luther?”

  He looked back.

  She felt on the precipice of something insane, unimagined—something once so far out of reach that now loomed within her grasp.

  If she went through the threshold, it could liberate her.

  Or kill her.

  Luther turned to fully face her. “What is it?”

  Taking a huge leap of faith, Gaby whispered, “Believing what I tell you isn’t always going to be easy.”

  For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he reached out his hand for her.

  An olive branch. Acceptance. Maybe more?

  Hating her own weakness, Gaby took his hand.

  His fingers curled warmly around hers. One corner of his mouth lifted with humor, with relief, and with promise. “I’ve found that where you’re concerned, Gabrielle Cody, nothing ever is.”

  * * *

  A plump, gray-haired doctor met Luther and Gaby in the hallway outside of the room where Bliss rested. “You’re her family?”

  “Not quite.” Luther showed his badge, then introduced himself.

  The doctor held out a hand. “I’m Dr. Bolton. I apologize for your long wait. The patient—” He referred to a clipboard. “—Bliss, was drugged with a high dose of Midazolam.”

  High dose. Gaby seethed. When she found the one responsible, she’d get her retribution.

  Well, except that Luther hoped to tag along, and he might be averse to her chopping up the jerk and feeding him to the carp in the river.

  Unaware of Gaby’s frothing anger, Luther asked, “Midazolam? That’s one of the date rape drugs, right?”

  The doctor nodded. “It’s a powerful anesthetic used in minor surgery because it leaves patients unable to remember what has happened to them.”

  Luther glanced at Gaby, then back to the doctor with frustration. “In other words, it’s perfect for kidnapping someone.”

  “I’m afraid so.” Dr. Bolton took off his glasses and rubbed tired eyes. “In this patient’s case, she had an adverse reaction to the drug, which affected her breathing and caused the vomiting. We flushed out her system. Her stomach is calmer, and she’s resting easier now, but I’d like to keep her overnight for observation. I don’t expect any problems, so she should be able to go home in the morning.”

  Both men excluded Gaby from their discussion, which suited her just fine. It gave her time to let her thoughts connect into some sort of coherent order.

  Luther rubbed the back of his neck in a show of exhaustion. “Is Bliss able to answer some questions about the attack?”

  “Physically, she’s stable. Other than some bruises and scratches, which I gather she sustained while escaping the car, she doesn’t have any serious injuries.”

  “So I can talk with her?”

  The doctor tapped his eyeglasses against his thigh. “It won’t hurt anything, but I don’t know how much help she can be at this point. Emotionally, she’s still very confused and upset. Midazolam often has a residual ‘hangover’ effect. Your young lady was given such a large dosage that she’s still suffering the effects of sleepiness, impaired psychomotor and cognitive functions. Overall, she seems very confused about what happened to her.”

  Every word caused Gaby more pain. She could only imagine Bliss’s discomfort and fear.

  “How long till her head clears enough to tell us what happened?”

  “Hard to say.” A nurse came to the doctor with a message. He read it, then returned his attention to Luther. “It may persist into tomorrow. In fact, she could feel drowsy, tired, or weak for two days or more.”

  “Jesus,” Luther swore.

  The doctor commiserated with a pat on Luther’s shoulder. “Don’t push her. The quality that makes Midazolam medically valuable, namely clinical amnesia, is precisely what enables others to use it as an effective date rape drug. Victims are unable to give an accurate account of what happened to them, and testing for the drug is difficult. It breaks down rapidly and disappears from the system within forty-eight hours, making its detection in criminal cases problematic. In this case, because of her reaction to the drug, we were able to do a blood test right away.”

  Remembering the violent way that Bliss heaved, Gaby asked, “It’s uncommon for most people to get as ill as she got?”

  The doctor studied Gaby only a moment before replying. “Fortunately for surgery patients, yes. But because of how she reacted, I’d like someone to stay with her for a few days, just to keep an eye on her.”

  “She won’t be alone,” Gaby told them, vowing it as much to herself as to anyone else. “Can we go in to see her now?”

  “By all means. But be patient if she falls asleep on you.”

  Luther thanked the doctor as Gaby moved to the door.

  She abhorred hospitals. Too much of her time had been spent trapped within the sterile walls, her ears assaulted by the clinical concern of staff. Father’s disease had left him lost in his own misery, a stranger in a disease-defiled body. But Gaby, hale and hearty throughout it all, had obtained a visceral detestation of all things related to hospital care.

  Father had died a slow, agonizing death, and Gaby, with her special ability, had felt it with him.

  She felt it still—whenever she entered a hospital. Her pulse raced, her skin became clammy. Her throat ached and her stomach burned.

  But this was a different situation. This was Bliss, and she would be okay.

  Pushing the door open, Gaby strode in with the feigned comportment of a person in charge. At the first sight of her friend, she stalled.

  Bliss lay limp in a sterile white bed, her brown hair clean but matted, her makeup smudged everywhere it shouldn’t be. The faded, striped hospital gown swallowed her feminine frame, making her look like a small, defenseless child.

  “Hey,” Gaby whispered, unsure if Bliss slept or not. Equally unsure if she wanted to wake her.

  Bliss’s eyes opened with drowsy delay, focused on Gaby, then filled with glistening tears. “Gaby.”

  It was the oddest thing, to be wanted like this.

  To be needed. Trusted.

  Propping her hip on the side of the narrow cot, Gaby scowled down at Bliss, but kept her voice soft. “Now, Bliss, don’t you dare start bawling. There’s no reason. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  “No.” Her bottom lip quivered as she clutched at Gaby’s arm. “Please.” Casting frightened, leery glances at Luther, she implored in a low, hushed voice, “Get me out of here.”

  Standing at the foot of the bed, Luther studied her. “How old are you, Bliss?”

  As if in great pain and immeasurable panic, Bliss groaned aloud and dragged the bedsheet up to her chin.

  Gaby rolled her eyes. “Relax, Bliss. Luther’s no dummy. He’s already figured out that you’re underage and likely a runaway.”

  Luther said nothing.

  Gaby patted Bliss’s hand. “He’s the heroic sort, which means he’s not going to let anyone send you back to a situation worse than the one you’re in now.”

  With mocking irony, Luther agreed. “Worse than this? That’s hard to imagine.”

  Bliss groaned again.

  “Luther,” Gaby warned, “you know what I mean.”

  He touched Bliss’s small foot tenting the sheets at the end of the bed. “You can trust me, Bliss. Gaby’s right. I just want to know that you’re safe, and I want to catch the person who did this to you. Those are my only concerns right now.”

  Hope filled Bliss’s expression. “But . . . they keep asking me questions about my real name and stuff.”

  “You’re confused,” Gaby told her. “The doctor said so. You don’t have to tell anyone anything, not if you don’t want to.”

  New tears filled her eyes. “I am confused. I know you want me to tell you what happened, but . . . I can’t really remember nothing important.”

  Appreciating Luther’s silence, Gaby took Bliss’s hand. “Jus
t tell me what you can remember.”

  “I sort of remember talking to a boy.” Pain flashed in her blue eyes, but her aura coruscated around her, dancing in shades of yellow—the color of mental activity.

  Gaby glanced toward Luther. She hadn’t forgotten the boy that Luther let escape her. And seeing the guilt on his face, she knew that he hadn’t forgotten either.

  “A boy? What did you talk about with him?”

  Bliss shook her head. “I don’t know. And . . . I’m not even sure it was a boy.” She pressed fingertips to her temples. “I can almost see him. But I remember a woman’s voice.”

  A boy and a woman? “Can you tell me what she looked like?”

  Bliss shook her head.

  Luther stepped closer. “What did she say?”

  Her fingers curled into fists. “She was really sick, telling me awful things. Cruel things. But . . . some of the things she didn’t say. I just . . . knew them.” Bliss looked up at Gaby, shuddering anew. “I sound like an idiot.”

  “No, you don’t. You sound like someone who was attacked and hasn’t gotten it all together yet. That’s all.”

  Bliss hesitated, breathing hard, then she reached for Gaby’s hand. “I remember thinkin’ that I had to get away from her any way I could. Because, Gaby, I knew if I didn’t, I’d . . . die.”

  The bitch had really scared Bliss. Gaby wasn’t sure how to calm her, except to say, “I’ll find her, Bliss. I swear I will.”

  Bliss squeezed her eyes shut. “I want to leave here, but I’m . . . scared of going, too. Dumb, huh?”

  “Not dumb at all.” Gaby leaned down. “But I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Bliss. I want you to believe that.”

  “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you.” After frowning at Gaby, Luther circled the bed to stand opposite her. “Bliss, do you remember how old the boy was? What he wore? Anything about the car?”

  Bliss’s brow puckered as she struggled with her thoughts. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Luther.”

  “You said the woman said sick things to you. Do you recall any of it?”

  “She . . . she told me I’d need my strength.” Saying it aloud leeched more color from Bliss’s face. “That’s it. I can’t remember nothing else.”

  “Did she have an accent of any type?”

  “She sounded really happy. She was almost giggling. That scared me more than anything.”

  Luther touched her shoulder. “One witness said he saw a woman driving away from you, but he didn’t see anyone else. He didn’t see a boy.”

  Bliss shook her head. “Maybe it was just a woman, then. But I ain’t sure. I’ve been trying and trying, Luther, I swear. But I can’t picture him or her or nothing. I can’t picture no one.”

  Again, Bliss cast an unsure glance at Luther, then leaned in closer to Gaby. “I remember knowin’ what would happen to me. But I don’t know how I knew it. I just . . . did.” She chewed her trembling lips, looked at Luther, then away. “There’s a room . . .”

  An eerie sliver of dread snaked down Gaby’s back. “A room?”

  “I sort of . . . saw it. But I didn’t.”

  Gaby leaned closer, cautious and curious. “It’s okay, Bliss. Just tell me what you saw.”

  “It was awful, Gaby. A room full of stuff to hurt people. Places to tie them down. Things to use on them. Like a dungeon maybe.”

  “In a house?”

  “I think so, but I ain’t sure about that. I just . . . well, I know the room is there.”

  Gaby sat up a little straighter. Did Bliss have the curse, or was it just her reverence of Gaby that made her believe such things?

  Aware of Luther standing beside the bed, frozen in disbelief, Gaby tried not to give herself away. “Can you tell me what it looked like, specifically? Concrete walls, or paneling, or plaster? Painted walls? Lights?”

  “It’s a big room.” Bliss closed her eyes. “Dark wooden walls with fancy trim on everything. Really bright lights. Blood and flesh and . . .” Her eyes opened, stark with horror. “A lot of people have died there.”

  Looking like a thundercloud, Luther stared at Gaby, then at Bliss. “How would you know this, Bliss? Did the woman maybe say something?”

  “No.” Bliss continued to fret. “But I remember seeing it real clear, and knowin’ that’s where she wanted to take me.”

  “It’s okay,” Gaby told her. “A lot of people have special sight in a situation like yours.”

  “Special sight?” Luther repeated.

  Gaby ignored him.

  So did Bliss. “I also knew you’d come to help me, Gaby.”

  “I’ve been your protector—”

  “No,” Bliss said. “Somehow, I knew that if I got outta that car, you’d come to help me.”

  Luther went rigid.

  Gaby squeezed Bliss’s hand. The poor girl shook all over. It was a dilemma to be solved later, she decided. For right now, with Bliss so muddled and afraid, she wouldn’t draw any conclusions.

  Except that . . . “Luther, I wonder if it’s the same boy.”

  He looked relieved for some sound logic instead of psychogenic phenomenon. “The same kid you were chasing when I found you again?”

  “Could be.”

  “I guess that depends on why you were chasing him, doesn’t it?”

  Allowing Bliss to retain her death hold on her hand, Gaby settled more comfortably on the side of the bed. “I sensed he was up to something. That’s all.”

  “Murder? Torture?” Luther scoffed. “You sensed he was up to that?”

  “If I had, he wouldn’t have gotten away from me.” In no mood for Luther’s lack of faith, Gaby smoothed back Bliss’s hair. “I’m going to take you to Morty’s for a while. You’ll be safe there, and it’s not too far away, so I can visit you whenever you want me to. What do you think of that?”

  Bliss said nothing.

  She’d fallen back to sleep, her hand still clutching Gaby’s.

  “It’s a strange coincidence,” Luther said, thinking aloud as he paced the small room. “For you to be after a boy, and for a boy to be after Bliss.”

  “Tell me about it.” Gaby only wished she had a sound connection to share. But she didn’t.

  Was it the same kid? She wasn’t sure. But she didn’t believe in coincidence.

  Luther rounded the bed to stand in front of her. “Where did you know him from?”

  “I didn’t. Until that day, I’d never laid eyes on him before.”

  Hands on his hips, Luther said, “So you just saw a kid, disliked him on sight? What the hell would you have done if you’d caught him?”

  “He was where he shouldn’t be, and I didn’t like it.” She thought about that, about her intentions that day, and her dead certainty that something was wrong. “Until he ran, I’d only planned to talk to him.” Gaby loosened Bliss’s hold, then pulled the sheet up over her. “But he did run, which seems real suspicious if you ask me.”

  “Me, too.” He nodded toward Bliss. “At least now it does.”

  “I’ll know him if I ever see him again.”

  “That’s a start.”

  And a dead end. Knowing Luther wouldn’t let it go, Gaby stood without touching him, brushed Bliss’s cheek one last time, and walked out of the room. Though her hands were steady, vengeance and rage commingled inside her.

  Freed from the confines of Bliss’s room, Gaby breathed in the cool hospital air and drooped against the wall, eyes closed as she waited for Luther.

  When she heard the quiet click of the door and felt him beside her, she said, “I want to kill someone.”

  “I know.” He smoothed her hair. “Me, too.”

  He knew. Gaby looked at him. He hadn’t remonstrated with her for her bloodthirsty desire. He’d . . . commiserated.

  “You want a truth, Luther?”

  “That’d be nice.” His fingers continued to play with her hair. It was something Gaby had noticed early on, this strange fascination Luther had with her unkempt, mostly f
orgotten hair.

  “This is hard for me.”

  “I know. Me, too.”

  She shook her head. He didn’t get her meaning. “No. I’m not like you, Luther. I’m hardwired to react.” Fisting a hand, Gaby pressed it against her abdomen. “Here, inside me. Everything that is me is screaming for me to do something.”

  “But you don’t yet know what to do?”

  She put her head back again and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”

  “Me neither.” Luther’s hand left her hair and instead curved around her neck.

  His palm was hot, a little rough. Exciting.

  Lost in a vortex of extraordinary need, Gaby opened her eyes to look at him. “Sucks, huh?”

  “It’s frustrating.” He crowded into her space, big and powerful, sharing his heat, his scent. “If we’re patient, if we work together, we’ll get it figured out.”

  “Being patient means someone else could die.”

  “That’s an impasse cops face often. It takes persistence to solve a problem, but all the while, you know someone’s life could be on the line.”

  Gaby trusted that eventually she’d get the one responsible—but how many women would be hurt first? The only thing she knew with any certainty was that the bastard who’d tried to take Bliss would act again.

  And again.

  Somewhere along the way, he’d screw up and then she’d have him. God willing, that’d happen before another woman was tortured and murdered.

  “Gaby?” Luther now had both hands on her neck, his thumbs stroking along her jawline.

  How could thumbs on her chin turn her on? Maybe she was a degenerate of some sort. A sexual deviant.

  With every breath she took, her chest brushed Luther’s, heightening her strange tension.

  Her innate reactions sickened Gaby; she shouldn’t be thinking such carnal thoughts while Bliss lay drugged and frightened in a hospital bed.

  Unwilling to look him in the eyes, Gaby said, “Yeah?”

  “There’s been a lot said today that I’d like to understand.”

  She snorted. “I can imagine.” Her endogenous perception to all things evil would confuse a saint. Of course a solid citizen like Luther would be confused by it. “Shoot.”