Dawn Page 5

  “Why does it matter?” Samantha asked.

  Jon snorted in derision. “Why don’t you leave the questions to us?”

  Samantha looked at him. Exhaustion numbed her extremities and dulled her perception. I need to sleep now.

  “Please, Doctor,” Tommy said. “Tell us how you learned about Nathan, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Her eyelids felt heavy, and she lacked the energy to hold out any longer. What could it matter anyway? They’re cops and bound to find out on their own, eventually. Samantha yawned again. “Your police commissioner told me about Nathan.”

  She watched Tommy glance at Jon. “Is that significant?”

  “When did he come to you?” Tommy asked. “Did he mention Nathan at the gala?”

  Samantha’s mouth hung open, forming a tiny circle. “How did you?” She stammered, “He said nothing about Nathan until after the bombing.”

  “Then what did you talk about at the gala?”

  Samantha bristled from Jon’s tone. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to you.”

  Jon bared his teeth in a lecherous grin. “Well, we do.”

  Samantha sighed again. “He asked about my research project into cybernetics. He was interested in the applications.”

  Tommy nodded to Jon. “We can trust him.”

  Jon screwed up his face. “How you figure?”

  “He’s trying to save his life. What more do you need?”

  Samantha put her arms out in a stop gesture. “What are you talking about?”

  Jon sneered at her. “Doesn’t concern you. Thanks for your cooperation.”

  Samantha watched them walk away, too stunned to speak. Fighting through her exhaustion, she shouted, “Wait. Do you suspect Logue of corruption?”

  Jon lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the chill air. His caustic grin turned her stomach. “We can’t discuss the details of open investigations.” He snickered and turned on his heel.

  Samantha felt her cheeks flush. She pointed at Jon and said to Tommy, “Your partner is a real asshole.”

  Tommy frowned. “Aren’t we all?”

  She took a step away from her door. “At least tell me if I should trust him or not.”

  Tommy glanced at his partner heading to their vehicle. He looked at her and said, “This is Union City, how much can you trust anyone here?”

  He heard the blast before he felt the heat. It rolled over him in a rush of air that cooked his skin and stole his senses. Nathan opened his mouth to scream but his voice was gone. All that remained was agony. The fire carried him into the dark.

  His head shifted on the pillow as he fought against the images in his mind. They tortured his psyche with phantom pain until the light reclaimed him.

  Nathan opened his eyes a crack. Assaulted by light, he groaned and closed them again. He tried to lift his left hand but couldn’t feel it move. He couldn’t feel it at all. A soft whirring filled his ears when he opened his eyes again. The whirring seemed to be coming from inside his skull.

  “Sweetheart.”

  Nathan heard his wife’s voice from what seemed a great distance. He felt like he was underwater struggling for the surface.

  “Don’t move, honey,” Lucy said. “Don’t try to talk yet. Doctor!”

  Lucy filled his limited field of vision and offered him a cup of water. “Take a drink.” She placed her hand behind his head and raised him to the cup. The water burned his parched throat. He coughed and fell back against the pillow.

  More alert now, Nathan struggled to slow his breathing.

  “Mr. Miller.”

  He tried to focus on the unfamiliar voice, but his vision was all blurry. “Mr. Miller,” she said again, “I’m your doctor. My name is Samantha Rory. I need you to calm down.”

  The whirring increased in his head. Nathan felt his chest heaving with every breath.

  “Mr. Miller,” Samantha said, “your vitals are spiking. You’ve been through a terrible trauma, but I need you to relax.”

  Nathan felt a hand grasp his right hand. Lucy whispered close to his head, “You’re okay, sweetheart. We’re in a hospital. It’s over now.”

  He closed his eyes and heard the screams of the dying echo in his head. Opening them again, the whirring lessened and his vision cleared. Nathan blinked hard and focused on the woman in the white coat beside his bed.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Samantha said. Nathan opened his mouth to reply, but the pain in his throat stayed his words. Samantha held up a hand to him. “You should take your time with speaking, it’s been awhile now since you used your voice and you had a breathing tube inserted.”

  Nathan grimaced and croaked a few words. “How . . . long?”

  Samantha made notations in his chart. Holding it against her chest, she answered, “You were caught in a terrorist blast fifteen days ago. You were rushed to hospital and placed in a medically-induced coma that day. We kept you in the coma for ten days as the swelling on your brain went down.”

  Nathan watched her glance at Lucy before she said, “We can talk about your treatment later, but you should know a few things now. With brain injuries of the type you suffered, short-term memory loss is a distinct possibility. When you’re able to speak again, we can discuss options for recovering any lost memory. Be aware, though, some memories may be gone.”

  She placed his chart back on the foot of his bed and continued. “We needed to take radical measures to save your life. I need you to understand that you’re still in a weakened condition, and any undue stress would be detrimental to your recovery.”

  Nathan shook his head. His face contorted as he rasped, “Out with . . . it.”

  Samantha gave a curt nod. She chewed her bottom lip and said, “Under normal circumstances you would’ve known of the treatment provided before the operation. As it was deemed the only recourse to save your life, we had to proceed without your knowledge in this case. Mr. Miller, your left side was severely damaged in the explosion. Third-degree burns covered sixty percent of your body and you lost your leg from the knee down, along with your arm and eye on that side of your body.”

  Nathan looked down at the arm lying beside him.

  Samantha said, “You’re the first to be fitted with revolutionary kavendium fiber cybernetic implants. They saved your life.”

  Nathan heard the words but couldn’t believe them. He looked again at his left hand. He saw it move, but couldn’t feel it move. Grinding his teeth, Nathan closed his eyes against tears that brimmed over their lids.

  “Sweetheart,” Lucy squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, honey. It is.”

  Nathan flared his nostrils and glared at her. She released her grip and took a step back. He stared at Samantha and said, “You had . . . no right.”

  She blinked several times before she said, “We did, Mr. Miller. Consent was given, and it saved your life.”

  Nathan reached his left hand out and grasped the bed railing. It twisted in his grip. He turned his head away from them. “Get out.”

  He closed his eyes. Fire filled his vision and burned him to the core.

  Nathan stirred in bed when the door to his room opened. Commissioner Logue stood in the doorway and smiled in his dress uniform. The halogen lighting reflected off the bars pinned above his left breast. Nathan shifted and heard the bed groan under his weight.

  Logue let the door close behind him and strolled to the foot of the bed. His eyes rested on the mangled bedrail before they found Nathan’s gaze. Logue said, “Good to see you awake, Nate.”

  Nathan groaned. Two days had passed since he first woke, and every bit of him still throbbed. He cleared his throat and said, “What’s left of me.”

  Logue reached for a metal chair beside the wall and dragged it across the vinyl floor. He sat and shifted in the uncomfortable chair. “How do you feel?”

  Nathan took a long, slow breath. He stared evenly at Logue, but said nothing.

  Logue crossed his legs in his pursuit of a comfortable position. “That
good, huh?” He lifted his eyebrows and asked, “What happened to the bed?”

  Nathan glanced at the twisted metal and risked a joke. “I didn’t like the dinner they served.” He waited for a laugh that never came. Pushing himself up in bed, Nathan said, “Not that I don’t appreciate the visit, but what brings the police commissioner by at this hour of the night?”

  Logue answered, “You’re one of the best men under my command, Nate. I heard you were awake, and I wanted to see for myself.”

  Nathan barely lifted his left hand before it fell back to the sheets. He snorted. “As you can see, I won’t be returning to duty anytime soon. Not after what they did to me.”

  “Lucy told me you’re not pleased with the course of treatment.”

  Nathan’s lips thinned and he scowled at Logue. “How would you feel, if they did this to you?”

  Logue pursed his lips. He folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in the chair. “Just how much do you remember about what happened?”

  Nathan turned his head away. His skin burned and screams filled his ears. With a slight tremble he said, “I remember enough.”

  Logue gave him a nod. He looked around the room and said, “Lucy mentioned it has affected your short-term memory?”

  Nathan narrowed his gaze at him. “Just how much time have you been spending with my wife?”

  Logue answered, “She’s concerned about you, Nate. You haven’t been yourself.”

  “I’m not myself,” Nathan said. “Not anymore.”

  Logue leaned forward on the chair. He held his hands between his knees and looked up at Nathan. “I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through. Lord knows, it’s hard to wrap your head around, but try to go easier on Lucy. She was afraid of losing you. In her position, would you have done any less?”

  Nathan mulled it over a long moment before he blew out a breath and shifted on the bed. “What I don’t understand is how she even knew about . . .” His voice trailed off, and he looked at his left arm, “. . . any of this.”

  Logue pulled at his ear. “It has affected your memory, hasn’t it?”

  “The weeks leading up to the . . . I have a lot of gaps,” Nathan admitted.

  A slight grin tweaked Logue’s lips. He leaned back in his seat and said, “I can’t do much to help you accept your new reality, but I can fill in some blanks for you. The least I can do for one of this city’s heroes.”

  Nathan frowned at the word.

  “Do you remember the gala at all?” Logue asked.

  Nathan thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Not really. I have flashes, that’s all.”

  Logue said, “Dr. Rory was there. Tommy spent much of the evening trying to convince her of his merits.” Logue rolled his eyes. “You know how Tommy can be.” Nathan felt his blood run cold. Logue continued. “I didn’t hear their conversation, but I know it was Tommy who convinced Lucy to sign off on your treatment. He pushed her to have it done.”

  “Why?” Nathan asked.

  Logue shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Maybe he wanted to impress the good doctor? Or believed it was the best thing for you? I couldn’t really say.”

  Nathan bit down hard on his lip. His nostrils flared and his brow furrowed. “How could he do that to me?”

  Logue said, “I tried to stop it, Nate. As a friend of the family, though, Tommy held Lucy’s ear far more than I did.” He stood. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them, but they meant well. And the procedure saved your life.”

  Nathan glared at him. Rage coursed through his veins.

  Logue said, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s clear I’ve upset you, and that wasn’t my intention.”

  Nathan shook him off. “No, I needed to hear the truth.”

  “I suppose you did.” Logue patted the footboard. “Get some rest, Nate.”

  Logue reached the door before Nathan called after him. He turned and looked at Nathan. “Thank you for having my back—for trying. You might just be the only person I can trust to do that anymore.”

  Logue left the room with a smile and a nod.

  Winterhaven Recovery Center sat at the top of a hill, surrounded by a plush valley, fifteen miles outside Union City. The valley was coated in a thin layer of snow, criss-crossed by rabbit and fox tracks. The squat building had a roof that sloped to the rear and plate-glass windows on all sides.

  Nathan stared north from his spot in the rehabilitation room. His hands gripped the parallel beams he struggled to walk between. A month since the procedure and he still couldn’t work his cybernetic leg without help.

  Nathan shifted another halting step forward. Sweat dripped into his eyes and he bared his teeth with the effort to move. Another step and the beam on his left side cracked. He toppled to the floor with a resounding thud.

  Cursing filled the quiet space as Nathan slammed his fists against the carpeting. The fall didn’t hurt anything more than his pride.

  “You all right, boss?”

  Nathan glanced at the doorway and saw Tommy standing there. He grumbled and rose back to his feet.

  Tommy strolled over to the right side of the room and ran his fingers along the glass. Nathan lowered into a wheelchair and asked, “Why are you here?”

  Tommy stopped and leaned back against the windows. “I thought we should talk.”

  Nathan curled his lip. “I said everything I needed to say two weeks ago.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Tommy shook his head. “How can you trust Logue’s word over mine?”

  Nathan bent and lifted his left foot off the floor. He placed it on the footrest and spun the wheelchair away from Tommy.

  Tommy threw up his arms. “All right. Look, boss, truth is we need to talk.”

  Nathan rolled toward the weight rigging in the far corner, muttering over his shoulder.

  Tommy said, “We’re losing traction on the Vargas case. We need something concrete soon or it will get shut down.”

  Nathan gripped a thick rope that hung from a pulley machine and looked back at Tommy. He shook his head. “Has nothing to do with me.”

  Tommy pushed off the windows. “How can you not remember?” Nathan looked at him and shrugged. “Jesus, boss.” Tommy ran his fingers through his hair. “I know you’ve had memory loss but, come on. Have you been doing the drills to help recover your memory?”

  Nathan pulled the rope down. He worked through a few revolutions before he said, “Maybe I don’t want to remember.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Nathan paused and stared at him. “Maybe what I remember is bad enough. You ever think of that?”

  Tommy moved closer and crouched beside him. “Boss, you’re a cop. It’s what you are—it’s in your blood. We opened this investigation because we thought Vargas was aiding the son of a bitch who did this to you. You have to remember. I need your help to bring him down.”

  Nathan let go of the rope and pushed Tommy backward with his left hand. The force of the blow set Tommy back on his rear. They stared at each other for a long moment before Nathan said, “I’m looking at the son of a bitch who did this to me.”

  Tommy’s eyes widened and his jaw went slack. He licked his lips and regained his feet. Brushing himself off, he said, “Fucking-a, boss. Logue is lying—why can’t you see that?”

  “Why would he lie?”

  “Why would I?” Tommy pleaded with him. “For all we know, he’s in bed with Vargas. This is Union City. For chrissakes, boss, we’re best friends.”

  Nathan motioned to his left side. “We were best friends, Roc. I would never allow this to happen to you.”

  “I didn’t allow this to happen to you. Logue convinced Lucy to sign off. He brought Rory into it, not me. I tried to stop them.”

  Nathan gave him a murderous look. “I remember you talking with Rory at the gala.”

  “So sue me,” Tommy said. “She’s fucking hot. But we stood on the balcony together and watched Logue talk to her first. Ask Lucy, she’ll tel
l you I’m telling you the truth.”

  “Like I’d trust her any more than I’d trust you.”

  Tommy raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “You’re not thinking clearly right now,” he said. “I’ll come back.”

  “Don’t bother.” Nathan grabbed the rope again and resumed his strength training.

  Tommy stood there for a moment longer and then waved a hand dismissively at him. “Forget this then. You’re making a terrible mistake.” He turned and stormed away.

  “What’s going on?”

  They both looked over at the sound of Lucy entering the room. She carried a bouquet of red roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Tommy brushed past her and said, “He’s all yours.”

  Lucy called after him. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  Tommy shoved the door open. His voice carried back from the hall. “He’s not worth my time anymore.”

  Lucy turned to Nathan who met her with a frightful gaze. He snarled under his breath. “What is that shit?”

  Lucy stumbled and recovered. She held her gifts out and said, “It’s Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. And one month since . . . I thought we could celebrate?”

  Nathan glared at her as he ground his teeth together. He slammed his left hand against the pulley machine and watched Lucy jump in fright. Rolling backward, he said, “Celebrate? Celebrate? What would we be celebrating? My one-month anniversary of being a fucked up invalid?”

  “Honey—”

  “Get that shit out of my sight!” Nathan hollered.

  Lucy swallowed hard and set the flowers and chocolates aside. She covered her mouth with her hand for a moment, then turned to face Nathan. The steel in her eyes gave him a moment’s pause. “How dare you! How dare you treat me like this! For one month I’ve taken your venom daily for doing nothing more than save your miserable life.”

  “Nothing more?” Nathan felt his blood surge. The anger called to him. “You call this saving my life? You should’ve let me die. How could you let them do this to me?”