Learning to Let Go (3 page)

I looked over toward Jonathan to elaborate. “Thompson is working with a computer analyst to try and work with the video footage; they’re hoping to unscramble it and see if we can get a clear shot of Chase and match it up, using facial recognition software, with the photo we obtained from his MIT records. For some reason, the cameras all went haywire right before he entered the shot, like he had a scrambling device.” I glanced back at Grace. “Do you think you could identify him if you saw a picture?”

She nodded with determination set in her eyes. “I’ve had the misfortune of meeting the scumbag when I went to some of Laurel’s swim meets. He was extremely arrogant back then, thinking he owned everything. He tried to hit on me until he discovered I wore a prosthetic hand—like that should make a damn bit of difference!” She paused and took a deep breath, calming herself down. “I would know him anywhere.”

I got Thompson on my cell phone immediately and passed it to Grace so she could give him a full description of Chase.

“He’s 23, roughly 185 pounds, at least 6 feet tall, short black hair, light tan complexion, bushy eyebrows and eyes that are so dark and brooding, they resemble black onyx—crazy black onyx—chiseled jaw and high cheekbones.” She paused for a moment that seemed like forever.

“He said my description matches,” she handed the phone back to me, “and he needs to talk with you.”

I listened intently as Thompson verified what we had already realized—it was Chase Peterson. They were able to unscramble his picture from the video and it was a match with his college picture. My blood began to boil and I knew I was yelling, but I didn’t give a fuck. I wanted this sick bastard away from Laurel permanently. “It’s definitely him?!” I said again, wanting Grace and my brother to understand we had proof. “I want every contact you have called in; spare no expense. I want him caught yesterday!” I quickly ended my call and had to sit to catch my breath, my heartbeat rapid from the adrenaline, hate pulsing through my system.

I watched as Grace started trembling in Jonathan’s arms. I didn’t mean to scare her, but I couldn’t contain the rage that was brewing inside me. I hated feeling defenseless and out of control.

Her voice cracked and tears ran down her face. “I don’t want to ask this, but I need to know—was she raped again?”

I looked toward the ceiling, as if some magical answer would appear. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to that. If he had, I don’t know if I could refrain from inflicting physical pain on Chase, possibly killing him, once I got my hands on him. I just shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, not knowing what to say.

I heard my father clear his throat from behind us. “I can answer that for you, Grace.”

We all stood up and looked his direction. “Laurel has suffered quite a bit of damage. We did a rape kit, as a safety, since she arrived without underwear and had blood down the inside of her legs, but, thankfully, she wasn’t.”

We all expelled the breath we were holding. Small mercies.

“Whoever this guy is did a number on her,” he went on to add. “She has a hairline fracture to her skull, swelling on the brain, multiple cuts and abrasions to her legs and arms, and a few bruised ribs, along with a bruised neck. If she hadn’t fought back, he might have had his way with her. It looks like he was trying to because she has some damage to her feminine areas that will require several stitches. She’s lucky. I’ve seen some women brought in here, just barely clinging to life, from similar attacks.”

I was the first to speak. “Is she awake, Dad? Can I see her?”

“Laurel’s still being tended to for the numerous cuts on her arms and legs right now.” Dad reached out his hand to wrap it around my shoulder, extending his other hand out to Grace. “The doctors and I would like to place her in a medically-induced coma until the swelling in her brain settles. It will give her body a chance to heal without having to endure all the pain, particularly in the private area. If she moves too quickly, she can easily tear her stitches and would require surgery to repair things.”

Grace asked. “How bad is the swelling on her brain?”

“The CAT scan showed moderate swelling. I’ll have the test repeated periodically, to keep an eye on things. The next 12 to 24 hours are most critical. If the swelling continues, we’ll have to go in and place a drain line to relieve some of the pressure. If it starts to recede, we may be able to wake her in a few days. It all depends on Laurel and her will to fight.”

He stopped for a moment before continuing. “You all need to focus on the positives. Laurel’s alive, she wasn’t sexually vandalized, and her odds of recovery are favorable.” Dad looked pointedly at myself and Grace. “She’ll need both of you to pull her through this.”

Grace started crying and Jonathan turned her towards him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and drawing her head to his chest. “This can’t be happening,” Grace sobbed. “What am I going to tell her parents?”

My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and I had been sucker-punched right in the gut. I wanted to put a hole in the nearest wall and pretend it was Chase’s face.

“Don’t call them yet,” I managed to say.

“They need to know, son, and we need their permission to put her into a drug-induced coma,” my father argued.

Grace and I both spoke in unison this time. “Not yet.”

Grace half smiled at me before telling my father, “I’m her power of attorney.”

We all looked at her with puzzlement, waiting for an explanation. I half-expected my father to be taking notes.

“Laurel and I have both had a lot of bad things happen in our lives that we’d rather not have our families know. As a result, we drew up power of attorneys and living wills so each of us are representative of the other. I know for a fact that she hasn’t shared anything about Chase with her parents, so that will be her call to make, not ours. I will NOT betray her trust.”

“Nor will I,” I insisted.

My father began to argue again. “But—”

“I won’t invade her right to privacy. While I agree her parents should know, it’s up to her to tell them, not me,” Grace insisted, even adding a little foot stomp that surprised all of us. “Laurel loves her parents and they’re close to some degree, but they’re so caught up in their own lives and so focused on their future retirement that they never listen to her when she tries to talk with them. She tried to tell them once about a date that had gone wrong, where the guy left her in the middle of downtown Boston because she refused to sleep with him. They blamed her for her poor attitude.” She just shook her head and raised her hands in the air, furious over her aunt and uncle’s actions. “That’s why they can wait. They don’t have her best interest at heart right now and I’m not about to walk into that hornets’ nest and rile it up.”

While we waited, Grace pointed out that I needed a change of clothes. She couldn’t stand to see them covered in Laurel’s blood; I was so out of it that I didn’t even realize, and once she pointed it out, I thought I would be sick. My father secured a shower for me in one of the staff locker rooms and my housekeeper, Deidre, dropped by with a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. They reassured me at least eight times that there wouldn’t be any news in the ten minutes I needed to clean up in order to get me to move. I didn’t want to miss out on anything about my Laurel.

Grace and I both took turns pacing the hallways while Jonathan kept in touch with my security team to see if there were any developments in regards to finding Chase.

I was growing restless, needing to hear some news, ready to demand some answers, when I heard my father’s voice coming down the hall.

“We have Laurel resting comfortably in ICU. You can come see her now, two at a time, but be forewarned—she looks like she’s been through hell and back. Because of the coma, she’ll be unresponsive, and don’t be alarmed by all the wires and lines, they’re all there to monitor her.” He stopped for a moment, turning to Grace. “Is she on any regular type of medication for her blood sugar or any other ailments? Garrett wasn’t entirely sure when filling out her forms.”

Grace nodded. “She’s been maintaining her blood sugar with diet and exercise through Dr. Chadler’s office. The only medication she takes is birth control to keep her cycles regular and less painful.” Her voice started to shake. “How long will she have to be under? Will she remember what happened?”

“Honestly, the length of her coma will depend on the swelling in her brain,” Dad explained. “If it starts to go down quickly, we can probably start weaning her off the medications in a couple of days.” He pursed his lips, as if not quite sure how to answer the second question. “As for remembering what happened, some people wake screaming in terror, while others come out of it slowly, wondering why they’re in the hospital, not remembering anything that led them there. Since her medication is helpful, with your permission, we can give her a shot of Depo-Provera; that will keep things current.”

“I’m hoping she doesn’t remember,” Grace said.

I took a deep breath in, placing my hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I hope she doesn’t either, for her sake. She’s been through so much already. Plus, I still haven’t told her everything about me, which just added to things.” I found myself frozen in the hallway, unable to move, feeling the beginning of a panic attack coming on. “Why couldn’t I just have followed her down and fought harder for her?” The guilt of not being there for her, of misleading her all those months, began to eat at me.

Jonathan stayed behind, while Grace and Dad each grabbed one of my arms and directed me towards her room.

“You can’t do this to yourself, son,” Dad reminded me. “You didn’t cause this. You’ve come so far and now isn’t the time to doubt yourself. She needs you and you need her; that much is obvious.”

He's right. I do need her! I can't lose her like I lost my family. She needs me and I’ll do whatever it takes to win her back!

Grace came to stand in front of me, a determined look upon her face. “You focus on one thing right now, Garrett, and remember it. Chase would’ve come after her no matter what! I’ve known Laurel all my life and I know for a fact that if she hadn’t met you, she wouldn’t have known how a man is supposed to treat a woman. She would’ve succumb to that rat and let him do anything to her. Since you came into her life, she’s become more confident and more outspoken—she doesn’t even put up with my shit anymore.” Her hand came up and caressed my face as her voice calmed to a soothing tone. “You’re good for her, and if I’m understanding correctly, she helps soothe your soul, too. Whatever happened in the past doesn’t matter. Don’t push her away. You were the only person able to draw her out of her shell and you’re perhaps the one she’ll need most to pull through all this.”

Her words were the wakeup call I needed. “I may have fucked up royally, but I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to her,” I assured Grace. “Laurel needs me and I need her!” I felt myself straightening, anxious to get to her room.
I can do this! I can be what she needs, take care of her, protect her, and let her in. It’s fucking time my walls start coming down and I learn to live outside of them.

Dad led us through the ICU to a private room that had a hospital security guard and a police officer stationed outside her door. Dad looked my direction. “I figured you’d want security close by with that nut job on the loose. If he gets close, we’ll get him, son.”

I couldn’t speak, and as I rounded the corner and saw my beautiful Laurel looking like a shadow of herself, I felt all control slip from my system, tears forming around the edges of my eyes. Apparently I wasn’t alone, as I heard Grace gasp and cry out. Dad guided her to a chair where she could hold Laurel’s hand; I took a seat on the other side, afraid to touch her.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The person who brought a smile to my face and an extra beat to my heart now lay broken and battered in a bed that looked to swallow her. Her eyes were closed, part of her head bandaged, covering that beautiful auburn hair, her arms covered in cuts. I could feel my hands fist and tried with all my might to ward off the desire to punch something. What I couldn’t believe was how much bruising was around her throat. Did that bastard try to keep her from fighting by choking her? The only solace I had was that she was breathing on her own, with just the help of nasal oxygen tube, and her heartbeat was steady on the monitors.