Young Truths (Young Series) (32 page)

I can feel her shocked stare. “Why the fuck would you have something like that in your building?” she demands. “I thought you were getting out of that sort of thing, Matt!”

“I am,” I tell her. “The only reason it was still there is because we can’t just load it into a car and take it to another lab. It’s got to go through a chain of custody about five miles long and that takes time. As for why we have it in the first place...” I run my free hand through my hair. “The poison was developed by a foreign country, one who has used it against their own people. The US military went in and confiscated it after we discovered what it was, and they asked my company to come up with an antidote. You were given a very small dosage of the stuff; anymore and there would be no question that you wouldn’t have survived. You would have been dead in a day’s time.” I crush her against my chest, hating that thought more than any other. “But the dosage you were given was just enough to render you unconscious and affect your memory.”

“I thought there wasn’t an antidote,” she whispers.

“There’s not,” I say in a defeated tone. “We’ve been working on this stuff for over a year and the combination of chemicals in this stuff makes it almost impossible to reverse the side effects. The biggest problem with it is that the ingredients tend to be overlooked by doctors and they mistake poisoning for something less threatening—like the flu or in some cases, a mild heart attack or vertigo. We got lucky with Dr. Lassiter identifying it for what it was. Also, the sample isn’t as potent as it was a year ago.”

“How did it get out of your building?”

“Somebody neglected to tell me a while back that a vial of this stuff went missing. One person assumed someone else had taken it for testing and used it. That person assumed the same thing with someone else. There’s no documentation to show who had their hands on it last and the video doesn’t give anything away. All the people who have been down there in the last month are the ones authorized to be there. I’m not even authorized to handle it. Anybody who works down there goes through retinal and fingerprint scanning followed by a thorough pat down and search when they arrive and leave. If someone took the vial, they hid it in a way that was undetectable. Samantha, I’m doing everything in my power to figure this out, I promise.”

She nods against my chest. “I know you are,” she says dully.

Swallowing hard, I rest my cheek on her hair. “Samantha, I am so sorry,” I whisper. “It’s my fault this happened. If I had just pushed the chain of custody through sooner, that stuff never would have gotten near you—”

“I don’t blame you.” She pulls away from me slightly, pushing herself up on her elbow so she can see me clearly. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t poison me; you weren’t trying to hurt me. Stop blaming yourself, Matt, please. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth had better not be how the best course of action would be to get me and the kids to my brother’s so we’re out of the line of fire while you come back home to figure things out.”

I smile a little. “You know me so well, don’t you?” I ask softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. I sigh. “I thought about it. Sending the three of you away until this shit passes.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asks curiously.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let me,” I inform her, watching the smirk form on her face. “Aside from that, as much as I will always believe you and our children would be safer without me, I could never actually go through with it. Without you three, it wouldn’t matter to me what happened, because what’s the point in caring what happens to you when the most important people in your life aren’t around to see you through it?”

“You really are melodramatic at times, you know,” she teases, leaning forward for a quick kiss. “And you’re damn right I wouldn’t let you send us away. Sorry, Young, you’re stuck with us no matter what happens.”

I chuckle, pulling her to lie down with me again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What else?” she asks. “I know that’s not the only thing bothering you; normally once you get out whatever you need to tell me, you relax. You’re still tense. So fess up.”

“Again with the knowing me too well...” I hesitate before admitting the thing I’m most nervous about discussing, but I know if I don’t tell her now and she somehow finds out later, the reaction will be so much worse. “The other day, before you woke up, I went to see Natalie at the prison where she’s being held.”

Predictably, she sits straight up, pushing away from me and staring in disbelief and anger. “Please tell me I heard that wrong,” she says, her tone accusatory.

I shake my head, pushing myself upright. “You didn’t,” I say. “Before you get pissed off—”

“Oh, I think it’s a little late for that,” she mutters ominously.

I resist the urge to beat my head against the wall. “Look, I know you hate her and I can’t say my feelings towards her are much better, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized she’s still linked to all of this. She plotted with Marone and Leo and God knows who else, so yeah, I went to see her to get answers.”

Samantha’s jaw is tense as she glares at me. “And did you get them?”

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “Not as many as I would have liked,” I answer resignedly before telling her every detail of my visit with Natalie. Neither of us is particularly comforted by the thought that Frank Marone isn’t looking for something material thing that we can just hand over to him in an attempt to end this. And Samantha isn’t nearly as interested in the revelation that Natalie has a brother like I am and I honestly can’t figure out why I’m so concerned about it myself. Samantha’s biggest concern is what Natalie said about Frank wanting me dead at all costs. I want to tell her we’ll catch Frank before anything happens, but I somehow doubt that would be comforting to her right now, all things considered.

Samantha watches me with an unreadable expression for what feels like a lifetime before sighing and lying down beside me again. I’m pretty sure it’s a good sign when I wrap an arm around her to hold her closer and she doesn’t pull away. Still, it never hurts to be absolutely certain in situations like this... “Are you angry with me?” I ask tentatively. She looks up at my quizzically. “About going to see Natalie, I mean.”

She sighs again, resting her head on my chest. “I probably should be,” she grumbles, wrapping her arm around my waist. “But no. If I’m being completely honest, I’d expected this at some point. You’re right; she’s the best source of information we have right now. And if I’d been awake when you made this decision and asked me about it, I probably would have told you no, absolutely not, not under any circumstances. But I trust you and I know you’re going to do everything possible to end this, even if that includes visiting the one woman in the world whose eyes I’d most like to carve out of her skull.”

I let out a surprised huff of laughter, though I think she’s only half-joking at best, and her matter-of-fact tone is a little worrisome. I think she’s been spending a little too much time with Claire. “I’ll make it a point to keep you away from her, then,” I murmur into my wife’s hair. “Can’t say I enjoyed the experience of visiting someone in prison and while I would look forward to the conjugal visits with you, my understanding is that you’re never completely alone...”

She looks at me with an amused raised eyebrow. “Since when are you any sort of authority on conjugal visits?” she asks incredulously.

“I watch a lot of cable TV when I can’t sleep,” I answer smoothly, grinning. “You’d be amazed the things you learn.”

She rolls her eyes at me, chuckling, then her expression grows solemn. “Is there anything else I need to know right now?” she asks. “Anything that might really piss me off I find out about it later?”

I hesitate for a moment, thinking about Mark Reilly. Yes, she needs to know and I do intend to tell her, but perhaps, for now, I should keep it to myself. There is no doubt in my mind that this will be a discussion that causes an argument and will probably result in her giving me the silent treatment for a while until she accepts it. The problem with Samantha is once someone gains her trust, she is unable to believe they might hurt her or betray her. It’s part of the reason why she reacted the way she did when I didn’t immediately believe Natalie was involved in kidnapping her and Tyler. She trusted me to trust her, and when I didn’t, it broke her heart. Despite my feelings of loathing towards Reilly, Samantha does trust him. Why, I have no idea, but she does. Before I tell her about Reilly, I need more evidence than my opinion as a jealous husband and Jessica’s testimony as Reilly’s seemingly brokenhearted ex-lover. I have no idea what that evidence might be—maybe I can get Marcus to break into Reilly’s apartment and grab that box of photos he’s allegedly stashing somewhere...

“No,” I say, realizing I haven’t answered my wife’s question. “The rest can wait.”

“Good,” she says through a yawn. “I’m taking nap.”

We pull into the farm at nearly two in the morning. Between feedings and changings and driving the two hours from the nearest airport, Matthew can barely keep his eyes open. I’m not fairing much better. The only light is on the front porch where I grab the spare key from beneath a potted plant that has been sitting beside the front door for as long as I can remember. Matthew looks at me like I’m insane when I gesture towards the barn.

“I know your brother doesn’t like me all that much,” he says, dragging our luggage across the yard while I carry Olivia. I’m pretty sure Tyler is sleepwalking right now. “But I would have at least thought he’d allow you and the kids to sleep inside.”

I roll my eyes, grinning. “Relax,” I tell him. “Jimmy had the barn converted into a guesthouse when Lily graduated high school. She wanted privacy, especially after Jimmy and Lisa got pregnant. Jimmy thought that with Olivia, we might be more comfortable out here.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew murmurs, waiting for me to unlock the door. “Where is Lily?”

“Crashing with some friends while we’re here. Her idea,” I answer, opening the door and switching on the light.

“Nice...” Matthew comments, looking around. I have to agree with that assessment. Jimmy put out all the stops when he renovated the barn for our little sister. The downstairs is completely open with a full kitchen, living area, bathroom, and even a pool table. Upstairs, the loft is split into two bedrooms. I grin a little thinking about how we can setup Olivia’s crib downstairs, let Tyler sleep like the dead in his room, and Matthew and I will have ample alone time. Hell, I’m sure it wouldn’t take much convincing to get my siblings to babysit the kids for an evening.

“Mrs. Young, your son is fast asleep on the stairs,” my husband says quietly into my ear. “Perhaps we should get him settled in a proper bed?”

I snort a laugh when I locate my son indeed curled up in the middle of the stairs looking as though he’s never been in a more comfortable sleeping position. My body hurts just looking at him. “If you insist, Mr. Young.”

It’s another half hour before we get our children settled in their respective beds, Olivia’s crib setup at the foot of our bed, and curl up together under the blankets. “I think I could sleep for the next month,” Matthew murmurs, holding me with my back to his chest.

“If you think I’m actually going to let you avoid my family the entire time we’re here, you are so wrong,” I murmur into the dark. He chuckles against my hair. “Thank you for this, by the way.”

“For what?”

I shrug slightly. “I know you’ve got a lot going on at home—we all do—and I know you’d probably rather be there sorting out this mess—”

“Sam, I want to be wherever you are,” he whispers. “And I need a vacation as much as you do. Honestly, I’m just glad I
can
still come out here and spend a week and a half with your family. Three days ago, I wasn’t sure you’d wake up, and that would have destroyed me. So I’d spend a year straight with your brother when he still hated the very air I breathe and the ground I walk on if it means you’re still here with me.”

Rolling over enough that I can look at him, I smile. “You’re very sweet when you want to be,” I inform him, sliding my fingers into his hair and bringing him down to me for a kiss.

“If you think that’s sweet,” he says against my lips when we pull apart, “you’re probably going to get a cavity before this trip is over.”

Clapping my hand over my mouth to muffle the blurting laugh at his incredibly cheesy line, I watch in growing amusement as Matthew plops down beside me trying to feign being insulted. “I’m sorry,” I choke out through my laughter. “That was horrible.”

“Shut up and go to sleep,” he grumbles, rearranging us to our previous positions. “I love you.”

A grin still on my face, I close my eyes and repeat his words, feeling for once that our lives are normal, even though I know full well they’re anything but. And for once, I actually feel my husband relax as he falls asleep behind me, probably with the same thoughts going through his mind.

Breakfast on the farm has always been an ordeal. When I was younger, we were all up before sunrise. My father and Jimmy tended to the animals while my mother and I got the house ready for the day—cooking breakfast, doing laundry. We ran like a well-oiled machine up until my mother got sick. My siblings and I did our best to keep everything on track at home, but when she died, things seemed to come to a screeching halt for months. It took us almost a year to get back to a point where we could get back to our old schedules, though things were never the same. As time went on, new habits were formed and I’m happy to see the organized chaos that is my brother’s family’s morning routine.

When Matthew, the kids, and I finally make it into the house, hours after breakfast would normally be served, we we’re mobbed by my four-year-old niece Madison and her two-year-old sister Emily. Lisa is kind enough to pass coffee cups to both Matthew and myself, and I think my husband would kiss her in gratitude if he could get past Tyler and his cousins. Jimmy heard all the commotion from the backyard and came in to greet us. Somehow he manages to get all the older children sat at the table and even pulls a highchair from somewhere for Olivia. To my surprise, Matthew jumps up to help Lisa finish breakfast while I relax at the table and bottle feed Olivia, ignoring my brother’s slightly suspicious look. I know he’s wondering why I’m not breastfeeding, and I’m not particularly eager to enlighten him.

Looking around the kitchen, I smile. It’s not the biggest room in the house, but somehow we’ve always managed to fit everyone in comfortably without tripping over one another. It’s so easy for me to remember all the time I spent in here with my mother while she taught me how to cook or told me stories or covered my skinned knees with band-aids or any one of the other thousand things she did for me. If I’m even a third of the mother to my children as mine was to hers, I’ll feel like I’ve succeeded as a parent. I’m a little sad thinking that neither of my children, or my husband for that matter, got to meet her. I know she would have adored Matthew on sight and she would have positively doted on her grandchildren.

“What’s that look for?”

I look over to find Matthew placing a plate in front of me before taking his seat beside me and smile. “Just thinking,” I tell him.

“You look sad,” he murmurs concernedly.

I only shrug, aware that Tyler is watching me as well. “I’m okay, really.”

Nodding skeptically, Matthew drops the subject, instead answering Jimmy’s question about how our flight was. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say my big brother is actually impressed to learn that my husband owns his own plane. As we eat, we talk, Jimmy and Lisa updating me on friends and neighbors I haven’t seen or spoken to in almost a year. Apparently someone talked them into throwing a party this weekend to welcome me home. I imagine the biggest draw is Olivia, with Matthew in a close second. In a town of less than 900, it was big news when one of their own ran off with a rich, successful stranger from New York and even bigger news when our marriage suddenly ended and I came home. I can’t honestly say I’m looking forward to a town party; most of them are probably annoyed with me for my break-up with Tom. For a while when we were in high school, I believed the town had a bet pool going on whether Tom and I would get married right out of high school, even though he and I never dated until I left Matthew. Much like Santa Clara, New York, the citizens of Afton, Iowa tend to be very protective of their own and I can only imagine the things they’ve been saying about me in the last ten or so months.

Suddenly this trip home doesn’t seem like such a great idea.

“Sam, you were in the hospital?” Jimmy says sharply, yanking me back to the present.

I look at him in surprise, then to Matthew who is rolling his eyes, his gaze darting towards Tyler. “Oh, yeah,” I say quietly, picking at my eggs and thinking quickly. “It wasn’t a big deal. The doctors were calling it vertigo, but since it happened so soon after giving birth, they wanted to keep me for a few days to make sure I’m okay. Which I am.”

Jimmy looks between Matthew and me for a few seconds as though trying to decide whether I’m lying or not. “You’re sure?” he asks. “We can have Dr. Reese check you over if you need it.”

I huff a laugh. “Jimmy, seriously. I’m fine. The doctors wouldn’t have released me, and Matthew never would have let me board the plane otherwise. Besides, last I heard, Dr. Reese could barely see and was using a walker to get around. I’m not sure he should be diagnosing and treating anyone.”

“Actually, he’s in a wheelchair now,” Lisa informs me. “Jimmy, lay off. Sam looks fine and she says she is, so drop the big brother act for once.”

My brother looks incredibly annoyed when Lisa and I start laughing and spends what’s left of breakfast pouting. We head back to the barn after we eat and it’s only now that I notice my husband hasn’t said a word in far longer than normal. His brow is furrowed and he doesn’t even bat an eye when Tyler runs off to watch the cows. I follow him up to the bedroom where he sits on the bed and watches me change Olivia’s diaper.

“Okay,” I say, finally breaking the silence when our daughter is back in her crib and falling asleep. “What’s the matter?”

Matthew looks up at me slowly. “Why did you lie?” he whispers.

“What?”

“When Jimmy asked you why you were in the hospital, you lied to him,” he reminds me. “Why?”

I stare at him for a few seconds. “You’re joking, right?” I ask. “Matt, it’s taken him eight years to accept your role in my life and that you’re not going anywhere. If I told him what really happened, he’d probably kill you in your sleep.”

He nods slowly. “So you’re saying he’s right about me?” When I only look at him in confusion, he takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “He’s been claiming for years that I’m dangerous and all that’s going to happen if you stay with me is that you’ll get yourself killed. And if this week hasn’t proved that...”

As much as I’d love to hit him or throw something at him, I refrain. “We are not having this discussion again. Matt, unless you snuck away from work the other day and poisoned my lunch, this was not your fault. I don’t care that it came from your building. It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. Now please, drop it.”

Obviously unconvinced, and probably still beating himself up, he nods and stands, muttering something about going to check on Tyler. I roll my eyes and sit on the bed, wondering if Matthew even remembers what it’s like to relax and let go. He says he needs this vacation with us and I wholeheartedly agree with that. But it seems like he’s not going to let go of the guilt trip without a fight and if I need to be the one to fight him just so he can enjoy a couple hours of quiet, then I am prepared to do it.

“Oh, Olivia,” I whisper, brushing my finger down my daughter’s soft cheek. “What are we going to do with your father?”

She doesn’t respond, having already fallen asleep, but I think I have a plan of my own.

Our morning is spent mostly sitting on the front porch of the farm watching the kids running around and chasing chickens. I got a few glimpses of José the goat peeking out from his little wooden shack on the side of the house and I swear the bastard was glaring.

“That goat hates me,” I mutter to Jimmy as the goat in question ventures out to investigate the extra child on his land. The moment he sees Tyler, he makes a beeline for him, sidestepping the other two children.

Jimmy snorts a laugh. “He hates everyone except Samantha and Tyler,” he informs me. “He tolerates me enough that he’ll let me feed him, but that’s about the extent of it. Couple years ago, he got sick and I was the lucky one to tend to him. I’ve still got the scar from where the fucker head butted me in the shin—twenty stitches. Samantha showed up the next day and had absolutely no problem treating him. She could never understand why the rest of us had so much trouble. I think the only other person he liked in the slightest was our mother.” We watch as Tyler walks right up to the demon goat and proceeds to pet him. José responds by licking my son’s cheek, causing him to giggle and wipe the goat drool off of him. “So Sam was in the hospital.”

The words are so matter-of-fact that they give me a sense of false security for a moment. “Yes, she was,” I answer, fully aware it wasn’t a question. I keep my gaze on Tyler and the goat.

“Vertigo, huh?”

I give a half-hearted shrug.

“Samantha’s never had vertigo in her life,” he informs me bluntly. “Am I really supposed to believe she’s suddenly developed it?”

“Well, she just gave birth,” I remind him. “Her body is all out of whack.”

Jimmy sighs. “Look, I’m not an idiot. And Samantha is the worst liar I’ve ever met in my life so I don’t believe her bullshit about vertigo for a second. I know something happened and as much as I want to know what that something was, I’m not going to ask. I trust her to know what’s best for her and her children. If she thought even for a second those kids were unsafe she’d be out of there in before anyone could even blink.” I have to agree with him there; actually, I’m still waiting for her to come to her senses... “Can you at least tell me if they’re safe?”

I hesitate; the answer is no, not really, but it’s not something I want to admit out loud. Especially not to Jimmy Everett.

“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. “Are you doing whatever it takes to keep them as safe as possible?”

“Yes,” I reply immediately, firmly. “And I will continue to do so.”

He nods. “Okay, then,” he says after a moment. “Well, I don’t know how much you know about farming, but why don’t you change out of the hundred dollar jeans and help me for a while.”

He stands and I remain sitting, staring at him uncertainly. “Is this where you lead me out into the corn and that’s the last my family ever sees of me?” I ask warily.

Jimmy smirks. “Tempting, but no,” he answers. “She may be younger and smaller than me, but there is no doubt in my mind that Samantha would not hesitate to kick my ass if I did.”

“Probably true,” I reply musingly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you out there.”

Despite my head spinning at the conversation with Jimmy that, once upon a time, would have probably ended with someone’s fist in someone else’s face, I head back towards the guesthouse/barn and find nothing but silence. For a half a second, I panic, thinking maybe Samantha had somehow snuck Olivia away while I was otherwise occupied. Of course, that’s not an option for two reasons—Tyler is still here and she wouldn’t leave me, no matter the million or so reasons why she should. I find her fast asleep in our bed and Olivia is in the same state in the corner of the room. I carefully sit beside my wife, just watching her for a few minutes. She’s been out of the hospital for less than twenty-four hours and though she can tell me until her face is blue that she feels fine, I know better. That poison is still in her system and will continue to make her weak until it fades. The side effects are still present—her skin feels cooler to the touch than it should, her complexion is paler, and her breathing is shuddering. She will recover and be perfectly fine in a few days, but until then, I’ll be keeping a closer eye on her than normal.

I’m actually starting to regret my decision not to have security tag along with us on this vacation. There is only so much protection I’m capable of and if all I’ve done is brought the danger to Samantha’s family home, she’ll never forgive me. As though just thinking it is enough to summon, my phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting me of a call.

Sighing, I stand, bending over to press a kiss to Sam’s head before heading out of the room. “Marcus, long time, no talk,” I say dryly. “Miss me already?”

“Fuck off,” Marcus replies. “How was your flight?”

I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off.

“You should know the wonderful detectives investigating Lucy’s murder are looking for you,” he informs me. “I’ve told them you’re taking some much needed R&R, but don’t be surprised if they call you. They tried pulling the whole you’re a suspect in a murder case so you shouldn’t have left in the first place, and by the way, you so fucking owe me.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” I ask, pouring a glass of water in the kitchen.

“Because thanks to me, you’re no longer a suspect in that murder case.”

It’s clichéd, but I spit out the water I just took a sip of, choking slightly on what little got into my lungs. “What?” I cough, my eyes watering. “How?”

Marcus sighs. “I don’t suppose you’d wait until you get back before you ask me that?”

That’s not the response I expected. “Depends. Was whatever you did actually legal?”

“Absolutely,” he says smoothly. “All I did was point out a few things for our detective friends and make them realize the error of their ways.”

“I’m not sure I like that answer,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“You don’t have to. Those cops are morons, Matt, and it was all a misunderstanding. You’re free and clear.”

My brow furrows. “So whose prints were at Lucy’s?” I ask slowly.

“Well, look at the time! I should get back to work. Enjoy the farm. Don’t step in cow pies; they’re not what they sound like.”

And with that, Marcus hangs up on me, leaving me staring at my phone in confusion. It’s definitely good news that I’m no longer a murder suspect, but I’d really like to know who replaced me. Clearly, Marcus doesn’t want me to know just yet; or he doesn’t want to ruin our vacation with whatever it is he’s learned. Maybe he’s right and for once, I should just sit back and enjoy my family. Our troubles will still be there when we get home, after all.