Selling the Drama (44 page)

Head reeling and heart pounding, Toby drove
to the hospital with only half a mind to what was going on around
him. If anyone had ever been going to die on the job, it surely
would have been Jake. As a police officer, he was in the line of
danger each and every time he went to work. And how ironic, that
Toby himself could survive a massive car crash with multiple
injuries, but Ellie only had to be stabbed once, and that was it.
All over.

It was horrific.

Running across the car park, Toby entered
the hospital, taking in the immediate chaos, patients waiting to be
seen mixed in with police, an investigation of the crime scene
already underway. Toby approached one of the police officers he
knew well.

"Hey, Dart." His greeting was sombre. "You
know where I can find Jake?"

"Hey, Toby, glad to see you here." Dart
clapped Toby on the shoulder, shaking his head sadly. "Terrible
day. Jake is with her."

Toby looked at him for a beat, confused.
"What?"

"He won't leave her."

Oh. Of course. Shit. "What actually
happened?"

"A total fuck up, that's what. Drug fuck
stumbles into emergency, he jumps her demanding meds, and before
security's gotten wind of anything, he's stabbed her clean through
her side and taken off. Bad timing and bad luck, I don't know, but
the end is all the same. She's gone. Didn't even make it into
surgery." Dart looked away, his eyes glistening with unshed
tears.

Toby swallowed deeply, overcome by a grief
he had never imagined feeling for Ellie, who in all honesty, was a
woman he had never really liked all that much. But still, she was
his best friend's wife, as well as Charlotte's best friend, and
both of those connections counted for something. This was terrible.
Poor Jake. He needed to find him and get him home to Charlotte,
where he could grieve in private, with people who loved him around
for support, if and when he needed them.

"So, where is he?" Toby asked once again,
impatient now to get out of this chaotic area.

"Back here." Dart gestured for Toby to
follow him. He led the way down the corridor, stopping at the door
of a room that had another officer and a small handful of nurses
clustered around it, all of which were sniffling and red eyed as
they mourned their co-worker openly. "He's in there." Dart flicked
his head toward the closed door.

Toby nodded in reply, placing his hand onto
the handle, gripping it tightly; he paused before turning it,
inhaling deeply as he contemplated what he was about to find on the
other side. Eyes closed, he turned the handle, stepping into the
room and only opening them again once he was inside with the door
shut firmly behind him. Jake was sitting motionless beside the bed,
his gazed fixed on the pale figure lying before him, covered from
the shoulders down by a sheet, clean thank goodness; Toby was
almost certain he could not have entered the room any further if
her blood had been visible. Jake did not turn around, even though
Toby was sure he would have heard him enter. Waiting, he shifted
his gaze between Jake and Ellie, back and forth, the lump in his
throat lodging deeper. How in the hell was he supposed to get Jake
to leave her? Would he leave, if it were Charlotte? Toby groaned
inwardly, torn; he really needed to get home to Charlotte. She was
beside herself with grief and had all of the kids with her as he
had been unable to get Iris on the phone to see if she could come
over and help them out.

"Did they tell you what happened?" Jake did
not turn around as he asked. His voice sounded hollow, echoing, a
distant version of his usual vibrant tone.

Approaching the chair Jake was sitting in,
the only one in the room, Toby came to a stop beside it, his gaze
coming to rest on Ellie, now able to take in the pallor of her up
close. What struck him the most were her lips; completely
colourless now. Ellie was the type of girl who had always had that
golden glow about her, blond hair, tanned skin, freckles, and rosy
lips. Now, she looked entirely washed out, her hair appearing so
much darker against her pale skin. Looking away from her, he tried
to find something else to focus on, not wanting to remember her
this way. He was so glad now in hindsight that Iris had not picked
up the phone, otherwise Charlotte may have insisted on coming here
with him. She did not need to see this. Hell, Jake did not need to
see this.

"Dart explained."

"The fucker got away."

"Not for long," Toby replied. "They have him
on the security feed. He'll surface and get picked up." They always
did, hopping from one crime to another until it all caught up with
them. Toby had seen it enough times to read the type.

"You think?" Jake pulled his gaze from
Ellie, turning it onto Toby who was at once shocked by the
expression on his friend's face.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," Toby said. The pain
evident within Jake's eyes was so tangible he could almost feel it.
"This is so fucking wrong."

Jake frowned at that, saying nothing, yet
Toby could see his throat swallowing furiously, as though he were
fighting off the urge to cry. Toby waited him out, crossing the
room to the window, giving Jake his back, offering privacy
alongside a reprieve to himself from the sight of Ellie.

"We only had each other." Jake's voice came
to him, broken. "Now I have nothing."

Toby pressed his forehead to the glass,
closing his eyes once again. Charlotte would be able to handle this
so much better than him. There was nothing whatsoever he could
think of to say to Jake in this moment. Nothing he could offer,
nothing he thought would be good enough. The guy's wife had been
murdered. It did not get much worse than that; and who the hell was
he anyway to think he had the right to try and make this better?
Better was impossible.

"I don't know what to do now," Jake said,
his voice cloaked with tears.

Toby turned then, taking in his friend's
ravaged appearance with solemnity. "I'll take you back to ours," he
offered, mostly for want of something to say.

Jake nodded, yet made no move to get up and
leave.

Toby waited him out, watching patiently, yet
Jake still made no move, remaining upright in his seat, the tears
now running down his face as he stared at his dead wife.

"I don't know what to do," he repeated,
broken, his tears flowing faster now.

Toby crossed to the bed where Ellie was
lying and reached down carefully, brushing her hair lightly with
the back of his hand. Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead,
barely brushing his lips there before straightening up. Taking hold
of the sheet that was folded back and lying across her chest, he
pulled it up, settling it gently over her face.

"Farewell, Ellie," Toby whispered as he
released the sheet.

Turning back to face Jake, he reached down
to grip his friend under the elbow, helping him to his feet. Their
eyes met, and for one long minute, Toby became absorbed by Jake's
grief, the intensity of it stunning him with a clarity that was
uncomfortable to behold. To lose that one part of yourself, the one
part that walked around within another person's body. Toby had
five, soon to be six, such parts of himself out there, contained
within another. To lose any one of them would be horrendous, but
the odds of losing them all at once were very slim. Jake was right.
He had nothing now. That knowledge spurned the thought that he was
perhaps the worst person in the world to be standing in front of
Jake offering comfort; he had so much in comparison. Still, he
pulled Jake into an embrace, hugging him hard.

"I am so fucking sorry." Tears stung his
eyes as Jake's grief overwhelmed him.

Jake made no response, his arms remaining by
his side as he pulled out of the embrace wordlessly, walking to the
door without even a backward glance, his back straight the whole
way. It was only the shaking of his hand as he placed it onto the
door handle; that was what gave it away to Toby, just how hard it
was for him to leave this room, to leave Ellie, to leave his life
as he had known it up until now.

She hadn't intended on waking him, just on
covering him up; the air conditioner was cold now evening had
settled in and the vent was blowing straight over him. Yet he
stirred, opening his eyes, wide awake within seconds, leading her
to believe he had not been asleep at all, not for a long time.

"Hey," she said to him, dropping the blanket
and sitting down onto the edge of the bed beside him.

"Hey."

"Did you sleep?" Useless chat, aimed at
filling in the awkward spaces, yet totally necessary for survival.
It was so hard to just sit and be silent with someone.

"No."

Reaching over to him, she took a hold of his
hand. He let her hold it, yet he kept his grip loose, as though he
were only allowing the contact for her comfort, not his own as it
was intended. "You want some dinner?"

"No."

"A cup of tea? Coffee-"

"Stop it." He squeezed her hand then, hard,
his gaze equally so as he levelled her with it. "Don't do that to
me. Not you."

"Sorry," Charlotte whispered, her tears
threatening once more. After crying for most of the day, she was
somewhat amazed her body could still produce tears. "I don't know
what else to do." She looked away from him then, concentrating her
gaze on the carpet, working at the pattern with her toe.

"She was sorry about the fight you two had.
She cried in the car, was going to call you as soon as she got off
work."

"I understood."

"I know. I told her that, but even so, she
was worried she may have pushed the boundaries with you too
far."

"There were no boundaries between us."

His thumb stoked her hand lightly. "Thank
you."

Charlotte looked up at him, startled by his
words. "What for?"

"I would never have asked her out if you
hadn't encouraged me."

"She would have eventually grown tired of
waiting and just asked you herself."

Shrugging, he smiled, a whimsical look
coming over his face. "Maybe. But still, you helped. So
thanks."

Inhaling sharply, she pulled her hand free
of his, covering her face with both hands, sobs ripping through
her. It was a hard, messy sort of crying, loud and painful. Jake
made no move to touch her, said nothing at all. Perhaps he was
crying himself, Charlotte was unaware; she didn't know anything at
all right now, least of all why something like this had happened to
them.

It was past eight by the time Toby got a
hold of Iris on the phone. "Where have you been all day?" he bit
out with impatience.

"I beg your pardon?" Her tone was one of
offence; she had perfected it well over the years.

"I have been trying to call you all day.
Charlotte and I needed your help today."

"You and your family are not the centre of
my world, Toby. You made it quite clear that was what you wanted
when you took them all away from me, moving to the other side of
town so-"

Toby cut her off, this tirade of hers so
well known to him by now, and so not relevant. "Ellie died this
morning."

"Jenna went into labour this morning."

Her response threw him. "What? She's not
ready yet."

"She's close enough. She's having a hard
time though. The baby is still not born. They may do a caesarean if
it drags much longer. It's mere chance you caught me. I was just
coming home for a few things." She paused for a moment. "What
happened to Ellie?"

"She was attacked at work." He found himself
unable to say the true word, despite how it bounced around the
inside of his head, to say it, out loud, that she had been
murdered; it was not something he was capable of yet, maybe he
never would be. "She was stabbed and died very quickly."

The silence on the other end of the phone
stretched out, but eventually the sound of Iris crying could be
heard. Toby waited, giving her this much; Iris had known Ellie
right from when she was a little girl.

"That's horrible. I can't believe it," she
muttered, her voice still thick with tears.

"So, what's happening with Jenna?"

"What? Oh, well, they're just monitoring
her."

"What's wrong with the baby?" He was unused
to complicated labours; each of Charlotte's had been relatively
quick and uneventful.

"It's around the wrong way. They've been
trying to turn it. Chad is beside himself with worry, but Jenna is
fine. As calm as you would expect from her. It's ridiculous, as
though she can't even take being in labour seriously."

Even at a time such as this, when Jenna
really needed her, Iris was unable to help herself. Perhaps it was
a result of the day, the stress and the emotion, but Toby could not
bear it any longer, the weight of what he knew, in light of the
fragility of life that he had once again witnessed that very day.
"If you can't support her you should stay the hell away from
her."

Iris was silent on the other end of the
phone. Stunned, or maybe she was wondering where he was coming from
and working through her options on what to say next. Toby saved her
the trouble.

"I know, Iris. I know what Jenna is to all
of us. You owe her more than what you give her."

Iris's voice was very controlled when she at
last spoke again. "How do you know?"

"That's none of your business." Not yet,
anyway. "Tell Chad to make sure his phone is on. I'll call him
later." Toby hung up then, unwilling to extend the conversation any
further. Staring at the handset, he felt an immense regret at what
he had just done. Without thinking it through, he had gone and
levered up the lid on that can of worms, acting just like any other
person under too much stress. Acting without thought. It was what
he defended people for on a daily basis. It was something he had
always considered himself above.