Young Truths (Young Series) (29 page)

“Didn’t I hear something about someone trying to get in to see her a while ago?” I ask, trying to sound curious rather than shocked. “And how they couldn’t even get past the front gate?”

The officer smirks, nodding. “Yeah, that guy,” he grumbles. “He was trying to use a fake
ID to get in and it raised a bunch of red flags, so he was turned away. Apparently, he’s got a bunch of warrants out for his arrest, but we didn’t get that information until he was long gone.”

Vaguely, I wonder how much trouble this guy can get into for his loose lips; not that I have any intention of complaining. “So her brother visits,” I say, coming up with a lie on the spot. “God, I haven’t seen him for years. Have you seen him?”

“Once or twice,” he says easily. “Seems like a nice guy.”

I nod as though I agree, though I have no idea who we’re actually talking about. Before I can ask anything further, we reach the door of the visitation room. I’m ushered inside by another officer and directed to sit in one of the little cubicles with dividers on either side of the chairs and thick glass separating me from the rest of prison. Fifteen minutes later, a door on the other side of the glass opens and I lay eyes on Natalie for the first time since early November. I can’t say her time in prison has done her any favors—she’s paler than I remember without makeup and her hair is limp. The orange jumpsuit is about a size too big for her—I think she might have lost a bit of weight recently.

Her brow furrows when she finds me and she actually hesitates before sitting down. I think the only thing keeping her from turning around and walking away is the guard guiding her to the chair across from me. We stare at each other for a few minutes before she resignedly reaches for the corded telephone attached to the divider on her right, gesturing for me to do the same.

“I take it you were expecting someone else?” I say dryly.

“What do you want?” she asks, ignoring my question.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Well, our last conversation didn’t exactly leave me feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside, so I thought we’d try again.”

She smirks. “The ball and chain let you out for the day, then?” she retorts wryly.

“Oh yes,” I say brightly. “She even lets me wander the backyard alone now, too.”

“Has anyone ever told you your sense of humor is incredibly juvenile?” she asks in a bored tone.

“And here I thought that’s what you loved most about me,” I say, feigning disappointment. “But you’re right, let’s get to the point. God knows we’ve both got better things to do...” I pause, my eyes widening in false realization, gesturing vaguely towards her. Her glare hardens. “Oh, right... Sorry.”

“What the fuck do you want?” she says through gritted teeth.

I try to pretend her frustration doesn’t greatly entertain me. But as I know our time is limited, I figure we should probably get on with things. “Frank and Leo aren’t here now to hide behind, so why don’t you just tell me why my family is being targeted and what I need to do to stop it.”

She almost laughs. “Why the hell do you think I’d tell you anything?” she asks.

“Because I’m the only one who can negotiate the terms of your sentence,” I reply immediately. “Perhaps if you tell me what I need to know, I can call in a few favors.”

Now she does laugh. “Bullshit,” she chortles. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you? If you’d had your way that night at the cabin, you would have shot me dead without a second thought. So don’t pretend to be suddenly interested in helping me. We both know it’s a lie, Matt.”

Well, she’s got me there... “Fine,” I say carelessly. “Then just tell me what Frank Marone wants with me and my family, and I’ll leave you to rot here in peace.”

She sits back in her seat, eyeing me closely as she considers my words. “Honestly, at this point, I don’t know. Maybe he’s just having fun watching you suffer. And if that’s the case, we both know he’s not going to stop until one of you is dead.”

“Who else is involved?” I ask coolly. “There’s no way Frank can pull all of this off alone; he’s got to have help. Who?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Do you really not understand the concept of there’s nothing in it for me, so why the fuck would I help you?”

I lean forward. “Because it’s what Leo would have done,” I say softly, watching her reaction closely. I’m rewarded when something akin to pain flashes through her eyes for the briefest of seconds. “Hell, it is what he did that night, isn’t it? Jumping in front your bullet. Saving my life. Maybe whatever it was you and I had wasn’t real, but you’ll never convince me you weren’t in love with Leo. Whatever grudge he had against me, his last act was protecting me and my son. I’m not asking for much, Nat, just a couple pieces of information about what Frank wants from me. That’s it.”

Her exterior walls begin to crumble slightly as she registers my words and a few minutes later, I watch her deflate right in front of my eyes. “I really don’t know,” she says quietly. “At first, he wanted you out of the way so he could gain access to your building. He thought if you were gone, no one would bother keeping Leo from getting whatever they needed. After the plane crash, he was convinced he’d won. I’m not really sure what part Samantha played in his plans, but she was just one more thing of yours that he wanted. Then we got word that you hadn’t been on that plane and he started getting sloppy. It was on me to clean up the mess. He arranged for a couple guys to kidnap Samantha and your son from the house, made sure Leo was out of the way and had an alibi, and... Well, you know the rest.”

I have my own theories about Samantha’s role in Frank Marone’s plans before my return. Natalie is right; he wanted Samantha because she was mine and it was just one more way for him to stomp on my nonexistent grave. “And kidnapping Tyler?” I ask. “What was the point of that?”

She raises an eyebrow at me as though she can’t believe I’d be so stupid. “Really?” she asks disbelievingly. “Why do you think? You’d already proven you’d go to hell and back to protect your family, and Frank knew Goddamn well if he had your son, you’d charge right in to save the day. It was a lure. You were supposed to die that night. Not Leo. Apparently, he had a sudden change of heart at the very last second.”

“And now?” I ask, hating how predictable I’ve become to the likes of Frank Marone. “What’s he want now?”

“You. Dead,” Natalie answers simply. “By any means necessary. And if that means taking out your family along the way, well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

“Time’s up, Walsh.” The faint voice of a guard reaches my ears.

“Right,” Natalie say briskly. “Well, it’s been fun, Matty. Really, it has. I really enjoyed the nostalgia tour, but I have to get back to my six by eight now.”

“Wait,” I say before she hangs up. “Since when do you have a brother?”

She smirks, rolling her eyes again before hanging up the phone without giving me an answer.

When the door closes and Natalie disappears from my sight, I finally hang up the phone and get to my feet to leave. This whole thing was a waste of time. She didn’t tell me anything I hadn’t already figured out and I still don’t know anything about this mysterious brother of hers. The only thing I did learn is that Natalie was more in love with my best friend than she ever was with me. Only a year ago, this news might have left me angry and feeling betrayed. Now it barely fazes me. At least now I know how to get answers out of her... That might actually come in handy.

By the time I return to the hospital, it’s late afternoon and Samantha remains unchanged. I’m pleased to see the FBI agent standing outside her door and even more pleased when he actually stops me from entering to check my identity rather than just taking me at my word that I’m her husband.

Collapsing into the chair beside her bed again, I immediately take her hand, smiling a little at the warmth that’s returned to it in my absence. That has to be a good sign, right?

“I really need you to wake up, Sammy,” I whisper against her knuckles. “I know you could connect all this stuff and think of something I haven’t. Because that’s what you’re good at: thinking logically when I have so much on my mind that I can barely string two thoughts together. We both know you’re the smart one in this relationship and I’m completely useless without you. So please, snap out of this and smack some sense into me before I do something incredibly stupid.” I pause, my brow furrowing. “Again.”

Of course, she doesn’t respond, leaving me feeling like I’m talking to myself. Eventually I decide she’s not going to wake up just because I’m staring at her, silently willing her to open her eyes, and reach for my laptop in the hopes of finding a distraction in the way of work. That lasts about an hour until Claire comes by with Olivia. Apparently, my daughter spent her day screaming at the top of her lungs and Claire decided she wanted me. Personally, I think the crying baby was just getting to her. Regardless, the moment Olivia is in my arms again, her shrieks and cries begin to subside, and eventually she calms down enough to fall asleep.

“I hate you so much,” Claire mutters, watching Olivia’s shuddering chest settles again.

I smirk. “I can’t help it if my daughter loves me,” I say quietly, pressing my lips to my baby’s forehead. “Have I said thank you for taking care of my kids?”

“Nope,” Claire says, pulling over a chair to sit beside me. “Can’t say you have.”

“Well, thank you,” I say sincerely. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Don’t mention it. How’s Sam?’

I nod at my unconscious wife. “Same as before,” I reply.

“Did they work out what got her like this?”

Shaking my head, I take Samantha’s hand again. “Not as far as I know,” I say tiredly. “All they’ve told me is that if she had been found even an hour later than she was, she’d probably be dead.” Despite my bravado, I can’t keep my voice from cracking on the last word.

Claire rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “But she’s not,” she reminds me. “She was found and she was treated before too much damage could be done. She’ll wake up in her own time, Matt.”

As unfair as it is, I’m starting to get really tired of everyone telling me things are going to be just fine and all I have to do is wait. I know they’re just trying to make me feel better, but I’m quickly approaching my breaking point. Luckily Claire knows the signs well enough to back off and not pursue this particular subject any further. We sit in silence for hours, only moving when Olivia wakes up needing to be fed or changed. Unfortunately, Samantha didn’t plan on being poisoned, unconscious, and hospitalized, so the stock of breast milk is running low. Before she leaves, Claire promises to pick up some formula and will deliver it in the morning.

Olivia is fast asleep and I put her back into her car seat, wishing I could fall asleep so easily. I know, however, I won’t sleep well again until Samantha is awake, no matter how hard I try. Resting my head on the bed, my arm thrown protectively across my wife’s waist as I close my eyes, I drift in and out of consciousness for a couple hours until the sensation of fingers in my hair registers in my mind. Very carefully, trying not to get my hopes up, I lift my head, turning it just enough to look at Samantha’s face. And I find her looking right back at me, a small smile on her face.

“Hi,” she whispers croakily. She seems to have decided her oxygen mask was no longer needed since she removed it.

“Hi yourself,” I whisper weakly, hardly daring to believe she’s actually awake. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

She raises an eyebrow, then uses the hand that had been running across my skull to pinch the skin on my arm. Hard.

“Ow!” I complain, rubbing the spot.

“What?” she asks innocently. “You wanted to know it isn’t a dream.”

The glare I shoot her is completely ineffective with my lips twitching into a smile. “So I did,” I murmur, already leaning down to capture her lips, kissing her greedily until she signals the need to breathe.

I helpfully hand her the oxygen mask again and she takes a few deep breaths, taking in her surroundings. “Hospital?” she asks through the mask. “Again?”

Smiling apologetically, I nod. “Again,” I confirm.

“What’s wrong with me now?” she grumbles.

I hesitate. “You don’t remember?” I ask in a low voice.

Her brow furrows as she lowers the mask again. “Last thing I remember is being in the bookstore with Olivia. She was asleep and I was doing a bit of rearranging. I remember a really bad stomachache and that’s it. Until now.”

Dammit. So much for immediate answers... “Do you remember eating lunch?” I ask carefully. I’d rather she remember things on her own without me planting memories in her mind so I have to filter my words.

She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. “I remember thinking about calling the café, but not actually doing it.” My shoulders slump; she doesn’t miss my facing falling in disappointment. “Matt, what happened to me? Where are Olivia and Tyler?”

Reluctantly, I pull my hand from hers and take our daughter from her car seat, smiling at how she doesn’t react in the slightest to being moved into Samantha’s arms. “Tyler is with Claire and Danny,” I tell her, sitting on the edge of the bed while Samantha hugs Olivia to her chest and relaxes slightly. “As for what happened to you...” I hesitate, wondering if I should take Olivia back before I tell her. Though somehow I doubt Samantha would let me at this point. “Samantha, you were poisoned.”