Angel of Redemption (89 page)

“Go,” he says. “I’ll let everyone know.”

“What about Claire?”

“Probably better not to send her in there without
knowing what kind of shape Kayla’s in.”

“Good point. Thanks, man.” I reach out for a
handshake and end up completely embracing him.

“Tell her we love her.”

“I will,” I assure.
“Can you have Logan
call Matty? Tell him Kayla’s okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Thanks.”

I follow the nurse down a long hallway lined with
glass rooms. Some are open, some are hidden by curtains. She stops in front of
one that’s covered.

“Here you go,” she says quietly. “She’s a little
shaken up.”

“Okay, thanks,” I answer before heading in.

Kayla’s sitting on a gurney in a white hospital
gown. Her head is down, her hands in her lap. Her bare feet are dangling
beneath her.

“Baby?” She glances up at me for a minute. She’s
obviously been crying. Her eyes are red and her makeup is smeared. Her hair is
pulled back, but it’s matted around her temples. Her expression is completely
blank. “Are you hurt?” She shakes her head and looks back down. I step closer
and brush my thumb over a streak of dried blood on her neck. “There’s blood.”

“It’s not mine,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Whose is it?”

“Dana’s. I think.”

I don’t stop there. I lift the sleeves of her
gown. She’s got a bandage on her forearm, and I can see more blood seeping
through the white gauze.
This
is definitely not someone else’s.
Kayla doesn’t look at me. Her gaze remains focused downward. I search the rest
of her body. There are small cuts and bruises here and there, but it doesn’t
look like anything too serious.

“Jesus, Kayla. What happened?”

She sniffs and scratches her nose. “I wasn’t
paying attention,” she murmurs.

“You didn’t see what happened?”

“I did,” she says softly. “I was distracted. I
…”
Her eyes flash up, tears filling them.

“It’s okay, baby. You don’t have to talk about
it.” I press my forehead against hers. “Everyone’s here.”

“The baby? Is he okay?”

My whole body goes rigid
—my stomach
suddenly up in my throat. “Baby?” I ask, licking my dry lips.

“The little boy from the visit.”

My mind flashes back to what Sara said.
She had the baby in her arms, and he was
screaming
.
I let out a shaky breath. “The news said he wasn’t hurt,” I answer, my
voice much stronger.

“Good. Have you seen her?”

“Who?”

“Dana. They won’t tell me anything. They just
keep saying she’s in surgery.”

“Do you want me to ask?”

Kayla nods.

“Okay. Lie down and relax. I’ll be back in a few
minutes. Do you want me to send Claire in? She’s worried about you.”

“Not yet. I don
’t want her to see me like
this.”

“Okay. What about Andy?”

“No. Just
…just you.”

I nod, pulling the thin sheet over her legs and
kissing her forehead gently. “I’ll be right back.
” Turning my back to
her, I frown. She’s holding in her emotions. I know that she’s probably in
shock, but I also know what happens when the shock wears off and all the
emotions hit at once.

Outside of the room, I see a nurse sitting at a
desk. “Excuse me?”

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

“My girlfriend is Kayla Brooks. She came in with
Dana
…” I suddenly realize I don’t know Dana’s last name. “The other
social worker.”

“Okay.”

“We were wondering how she was?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’ll ask the doctor
to come in as soon as he can, though, all right?”

“Thanks.” I look toward the waiting room and
debate whether or not I should stop by. “Can you do me a favor?” I ask, turning
back toward the nurse.

“Sure.”

“Her brother and little sister are in the waiting
area. Will you just let them know she’s resting?”

She smiles at me. “Of course.”

I take a deep breath and walk back into the room.
Kayla’s curled up into the fetal position, her back facing me. I don’t say
anything, just walk around and sit down in front of her. Her eyes are closed,
so I wrap my hand over hers just to let her know I’m here. “I love you,” I
whisper, hoping she can still hear me.

Dean

It’s a couple of hours
before Kayla’s ready to see anyone else. I sit in the corner as Logan and
Claire come in. Claire looks a little better, which is good. The last thing I
want is for Kayla to be worrying about her sister, too. Kayla doesn’t talk
much, but Claire does. She even gets Kayla to smile.

Brian and Karen are next, followed by Andy and
Sara. None of them stay too long. I think they just want to see for themselves
that she’s not seriously hurt. After they all leave, we’re visited by the
police, who are looking for a statement. I stay with her as she tells them what
happened.

“Lizzie was acting weird,” she starts.

“Elizabeth Turkins?” one of the detectives asks.
Kayla nods. “What do you mean by ‘weird’?”

“She was fidgeting. Her hands and knees were
shaking. She seemed agitated. I thought she was high.”

“So the behavior was unusual?”

She shrugs. “I haven’t seen her enough to know. I
just got the case from Dana about a month ago. You’ll have to ask her.” Kayla’s
eyes scan the detectives’ faces. She’s fishing, trying to find out information
that no one’s provided us with yet. They don’t react.

“So she seemed agitated? What happened next?”

“I don’t know. I was distracted,” Kayla answers
in a whisper.

“By what?”

She looks over at me. I tilt my head, trying to
read her expression, but I can’t. She’s still hiding the vast majority of her
emotions.

“I saw someone in the lobby I thought I knew. I
…I
didn’t even see how it happened. Suddenly Lizzie had a knife in her hand and
was swinging her arms.” A look of confusion comes over her face. “I didn’t even
move. I didn’t do anything. I just sat there until Dana started screaming.
Garrett was on the floor crying, and Dana was screaming. I tried… When I
realized what was happening, I tried to stop Lizzie, but she just kept hitting
Dana with the knife. I couldn’t make her stop. I didn’t want to leave Dana. I
didn’t… I was afraid Lizzie was gonna hurt Garrett. I picked him up and tried
to leave to get help, but she turned on me and…” Kayla unconsciously ghosts her
hand over her bandaged arm. “I dropped him,” she gasped. “I—I dropped
him. And she got him back. Someone opened the door, and they were fighting with
her, trying to get the knife and the baby. People started surrounding me. That’s…that’s
it.” She shakes her head and the tears that have been threatening to fall
finally let go. They drip from her chin and onto our clasped hands. I squeeze
tightly.

It kills me that she’s hurting. I’m relieved she’s
okay, but I’m also pissed that this happened in the first place. I have to hold
myself together, though, because this isn’t about me.

“Thank you, Kayla. I think we have everything we
need,” the same detective says.

“I don’t know how she got the knife in,” Kayla
suddenly says. “I saw her go through the metal detector. It didn’t beep.”

“It was a ceramic knife. No metal. Some of the
newer high-tech scanners can detect it, but not the older ones. There was no
way to know.”

After they’re gone, the doctor comes in, followed
by a nurse. “You’re all set to go home,” he tells her, signing a form and
handing a clipboard to the nurse, who walks out. “I’m going to give you a
prescription for pain relief. Take it as needed, no more than every four to six
hours. If you have any complications, let us know.”

“What happened to Dana?” Kayla asks him.

He sighs and clicks his pen before shoving it
into his pocket. “Your brother is still in the lobby. He spoke with her
family.”

I take this to mean he’s not allowed to say.
Kayla must come to the same conclusion because she frowns.

“Can you send him in?”

“Sure.” The look on his face is solemn.

“She’s not okay,” Kayla says softly once the
doctor has left.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. There was a lot of blood, Dean. So
much.”

“They have great doctors here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says in a weak voice.

The second Andy walks through the door, I know
Kayla’s right. Dana’s not okay. I close my eyes and groan under my breath.

“There was too much damage,” Andy tells us. “The
knife punctured her lungs and heart. They couldn’t repair it.”

Since I’m still holding her hand, I can feel
Kayla begin to shake.

“She’s dead?” she squeaks. Andy nods. “Her family?”

“They wanted to see you earlier, but it was
before you were ready to have visitors. Jesus, buttercup, I’m so sorry.”

Kayla takes short, choppy breaths. The tears
begin to fall again, uncontrollably. She lets go of my hand and wraps her arms
around herself. There’s nothing I can say or do right now to make this any
better.

I flash back to when I was in the hospital and my
parents told me that Gage had lost his leg. The feeling in the pit of my
stomach made me want to vomit, and I probably would have if I’d had anything in
it. Kayla’s face is registering the same emotion.

Andy moves forward to hug her, but she’s
motionless. He kisses her head. Our eyes meet, and my own fear and concern are
reflected back at me.

He lets her go. “Take care of her,” he says,
pulling me in and patting me on the back.

“I will,” I assure.

“I love you, buttercup,” he says. She doesn’t
even look up at him.

When he’s left, I help Kayla dress in a pair of
scrub pants and a sweatshirt I grabbed from the trunk of my car. She’s a little
sore, but she can walk on her own. We get about two feet into the hallway
before a nurse stops us and makes her sit in a wheelchair, though. Kayla doesn’t
protest. She just sags down into the seat.

At home, I run a bath for her and help her in,
making sure to keep her bandaged arm out of the water. She’s still got little
spots of blood here and there. I don’t know whom it belongs to, but I don’t
want it on her anymore.

“Do you want anything?” I ask, running a
washcloth over her skin.

“No,” she says quietly. “I’m okay.”

“Really?” I ask, disbelieving. She looks up and
smiles, but I can tell it’s forced.

“I’m just tired.”

Kayla lets me wash her hair without complaint. I
know she can do it without my help, but it makes me feel useful. Plus, she’s
taken her pain pill and I don’t want her falling asleep while she’s in the tub.
A little bit of blood is matted around the edge of her ear. The pink-tinted
suds drip down into the water. Luckily, her eyes are closed and she doesn’t see
them. When she’s clean, I help her out, wrap a towel around her body, and use
another to dry her hair.

“You’re good at this,” she says, looking up at
me. Her eyes aren’t nearly as bright as they usually are. I wonder how much of
that is the painkiller and how much is a reaction to what happened today.
Regardless, I want the spark back.

“At what?” I ask, using a corner of the towel to
wipe a drip of water from her cheek.

“At taking care of people.”

“That’s debatable.” I shrug. “I have no idea what
I’m doing. I just want you to feel better.”

“It’s not debatable at all. You’re perfect.”

“Come on,” I say, ignoring her comment. I’m far
from perfect. “Let’s get you dressed.” I pull out a pair of her pajama pants
and one of my T-shirts.

“You are,” she insists. “Those boys respect you,
Dean. They love you. I love you.” Her words are starting to slur together a
little.

After pulling the T-shirt over her head, I turn
her toward the bed. “Climb in. I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“’Kay,” she murmurs.

In the kitchen, I open the fridge. There’s plenty
to eat, but nothing looks good. Opening a cabinet, I pull out a box of
strawberry Pop-Tarts.

“Slightly burnt, just the way you like ‘em,” I
say, presenting them to her as she sits up against the pillows.

“Thank you.” She smiles, and, although it’s lazy
and sleepy, this time it feels a little bit more genuine. “Where’s Claire?”

“She’s in the living room with Logan. You want me
to go get her?”

She nods. “Yes, please.”

I lean over and kiss her temple before going to
get her sister. Once Claire goes in, I sit down in the chair across from Logan.

“How’s work?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Busy, but I guess that’s good.”

“Brayden?”

“He’s fine. We went to a party last weekend and
Caity got all pissed ‘cause he was talkin’ to some chick.”

“Huh.”

“He wasn’t doin’ nothin’ though. Chick was
wasted.” He chuckles. “She was stupid wasted. It was fucking funny.”

“Have you forgotten how to speak since moving
into your own place?” I ask.

“What?” he asks, confused.

I shake my head laughing. “Never mind. Everything
else going okay?”

“’Cept for this,” he answers, jerking his head
toward Kayla’s bedroom.

“I know.”

Logan drains the rest of his soda and sets the
can on the coffee table. “When I was in there, before we got sent to Wyatt
House, I asked her why they had metal detectors.” He looks at me. “She said it
was ‘cause there are some crazy-ass people out there.”

“She said that?”

“Maybe not quite like that, but yeah, kinda. I
thought she was full of it. I mean, I know there are some fucked-up people, but
I didn’t think
…” He shrugs. “I don’t know. My mom never bothered. Doesn’t
look like Claire’s is gonna, either.”

“I don’t know what goes through people’s minds or
why, Logan. Motivations are different.”

“They gonna put her in jail?”

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

“She fell asleep,” Claire says, coming back into
the room and sitting down next to Logan.

“I figured she would. They gave her some pretty
strong painkillers. How was she?”

“She just wanted to see if I was feeling okay.
Does she know about my dad?”

I sit up straight and lean forward. “Know what
about your dad?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want to admit anything and then find
out we’re talking about two different things.

“That he got arrested?”

“How do you know about that?” I frown.

“A kid I know from summer school—his dad is
on the board of directors at the hospital. He said it’s gonna be in the paper
tomorrow. I just didn’t know if Kayla knew.”

“No,” I answer. “She doesn’t.” I can’t help but
wonder which part is going to be in the paper
—the fraud and
malpractice or the abuse. I hope he gets busted for the abuse as well. As hard
as it may be on Kayla and Claire, the bastard deserves to be exposed.

“Are you going to tell her?” she asks, leaning
into Logan.

“I’ll tell her,” I assure. “Look, I’m going to
bed. Logan, I expect you out by one.”

“One?” he scoffs.

“And if I find your tail still here after that, I’m
gonna bust it up.” I raise my eyebrows to let him know I’m serious.

“Yes, Dad!” he snorts.

“Good night, Dean,” Claire says, smiling.

When I get to the bedroom, Kayla is out for the
count. I get undressed quietly and brush my teeth before sliding in next to
her. Her body is radiating heat. I press my lips against her skin like my
mother used to do when we were little to feel for fever. Now I see why my mom
did it. I don’t even need a thermometer
—the woman is roasting.

I wake up multiple times during the night. The
first time, Kayla must have had a nightmare. She sits up with a start, jerking
me out of a dead sleep. At first she pushes me away, tossing and turning
restlessly, but as I rub her back, she drifts off again. It isn’t long,
however, before I wake again to the feeling of her shivering violently. I give
her some Motrin, which does the trick and breaks her fever, but then she’s
sweating like crazy. It’s a fucking roller coaster all night long. In the
morning, her fever is back, but it doesn’t feel quite as high. She stays in bed,
and I bring her whatever she needs.