In This Town (18 page)

Touching her, kissing her, couldn’t be construed as anything
other than personal.

He dreamed of her. She slipped into his head when his guard was
down, slid into his subconscious at night when exhaustion took over, after he’d
spent hours tossing and turning trying to fight her invasion of his mind. But he
could and did control his actions, his decisions.

He hadn’t returned to the café since the other night, had
subsisted on fast food and takeout and the occasional trip to other
restaurants—the Chinese place, a pizza parlor.

Walker hadn’t sought her out. Had no reason to. There was
nothing she could tell him that would help his investigation, either of his
investigations, he amended.

But maybe the man standing before him could.

He’d questioned Ken Sullivan twice now but was no closer to
proving anything. Ken had admitted he’d paid off Dale and Valerie but that he’d
refused to pay Dale this last go-round. Walker couldn’t even say for sure that
Dale was murdered; it was possible—though not probable—that he ingested the
poison on his own.

They had two deaths eighteen years apart, two possible murders.
Walker knew in his gut they were connected. More than that, his head told him
they were. It only made sense that whoever killed Dale did so out of revenge for
Valerie’s death.

Or to keep him quiet about the truth.

And he couldn’t rule out anyone as a suspect. Not even
Tori.

“Any new leads in the investigation of York’s death?” Taylor
asked.

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“But if you were…”

“If I was…I’d say no.” He hated being stuck, hated that the
truth was out there but he couldn’t see it. And he was getting desperate enough
to ask Ross Taylor for help or, at least, his thoughts. “I still think Ken
Sullivan’s our man. He had motive, means and opportunity.”

While his wife vouched that he was home the night Dale was
killed, she also admitted she went to bed early and didn’t remember him coming
in. Ken could’ve left the house without her knowing.

“I have a hard time picturing Ken poisoning a man,” Taylor
said, sitting in one of the chairs.

“Maybe,” Walker conceded, “but he might be the type to pay to
have someone else do his dirty work.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Who
do you think is the most likely suspect, if not Ken?”

Taylor nodded, as if he knew how hard it was for Walker to even
ask that question. “You’ve been concentrating on Ken and Tim Sullivan. Captain
Sullivan and her sisters—”

“They’re the most likely suspects.”

“True. But sometimes, it’s the person you least suspect who’s
guilty. If it was me,” Taylor said slowly, “I’d widen my net to include everyone
who may have had a motive—and not just for killing Dale, but for wanting Valerie
Sullivan dead as well.”

Taylor’s cell phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket. “Do
you mind?” he asked Walker.

“Go ahead.” He had enough to keep his mind occupied for a few
minutes.

“Hello?” Taylor said, then listened as he got to his feet.
“Where?” Pause. “How badly injured?” Another pause. “She’ll be fine,” he said in
the same tone Walker used when talking down panicked relatives. “I’ll be there
in five minutes.” He shut off his phone. “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Everything okay?”

“One of Layne’s sisters was in an accident on Old Beach
Road.”

Walker’s stomach dropped, his blood ran cold. “Which sister is
it?”

But Taylor was already heading out the door. Walker caught up
with him by Donna’s desk, grasped Taylor’s shoulder and whirled him around.
“Damn it, who is it?”

Several officers stepped forward but Ross shook his head at
them. Met Walker’s eyes as if he knew how bad Walker had it, how close he was
coming to completely falling over a very steep cliff.

“It was Tori.”

* * *

H
ER
ENTIRE
BODY
hurt. Even her
eyelids, which refused to open despite what felt like a Herculean effort. Her
head pounded, each breath caused a sharp pain in her chest and her throat was
raw and dry.

And someone was shaking her, causing all of her pain to
coalesce into an unending torment, her stomach to turn.

Oh, she really, really wished they’d stop.

Tori just wanted to slip back into oblivion. It beckoned, the
darkness, the silence and numbness, right at the edge of her consciousness.
Whoever was trying to wake her could wait.

“Mom.”

The voice, whisper-soft and so achingly familiar floated into
her mind.

“Mom, wake up. Please.”

Her baby. Her son. He was scared, she could hear it in his
voice. Terrified. He wanted her.

He needed her.

Struggling, she pried her eyelids open. Blinked against the
harsh glare, pain searing her head. She couldn’t get her mind to work clearly,
she kept seeing images—a wet road, a sharp corner, then the feeling of flying
and a jarring, bone-rattling landing. Panic flowed through her as memory
returned. She’d been in an accident. She remembered bits and pieces. The fear
and pain, the shock. Someone holding her hand, telling her she was going to be
okay, the flashing lights as the EMTs arrived, the siren blaring on the
ambulance. She must’ve passed out because the next thing she remembered, she was
lying on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, swaying as it raced toward
the hospital.

And now she was here. Hurt, but alive.

Tori turned her head slightly but her vision blurred so she
shut her eyes again. Opened them and focused on Brandon’s features until they
sharpened.

There he was. His hair floppy and mussed, his face streaked
with tear marks. His eyes worried and way too serious.

“You’re awake,” he said, like an epiphany. Like a prayer.

“It’s okay,” she said, but her voice came out a wordless
croak.

“Here,” Layne said, her usual brusque tone soft. She held a cup
with a straw to Tori’s mouth. “Drink.”

Tori sucked in water. It was deliciously cool and soothing. She
leaned back, noticed Nora standing behind Brandon, her hands on his shoulders, a
worried look on her face.

But Tori looked at her son. Tried to smile as she reached for
him. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

It was a refrain she’d used many, many times when he’d been a
baby and had needed soothing. She’d held him, sometimes walking until her legs
ached and her arms became numb from his weight. Sometimes in the rocking chair
as she rocked and rocked and rocked, her head heavy from fatigue. She would
repeat over and over again that everything would be all right. That she was
there and would never leave him.

Not like her mother had left her.

Brandon grabbed her hand, linked his fingers with hers, and her
breath caught, a new sort of pain flowing through her, bittersweet and all too
real. Her son’s hand was as big as hers and a bit sweaty. She couldn’t remember
the last time he’d allowed her to hold his hand, hadn’t realized how good it
would feel to have that connection to her child again.

She met his eyes.
I’ve got you. I’m
holding on. I’ll never let go.

She’d never let him go.

Layne came into Tori’s line of vision. Her face drawn, her
expression unreadable. She nudged Brandon lightly. “Why don’t you run out, tell
your dad and Colleen that your mom’s awake?”

He looked like he was about to refuse but then he glanced at
his aunt’s face and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Here,” Layne said, giving him some cash. “Grab yourself a
snack and could you bring me back a cola?”

“Sure.” He stood and stuck the money into his pocket. Looked at
Tori, worry still clear in his eyes. “You’ll still be awake when I get
back?”

She tried to smile, wanted to reassure him, her little man, who
looked so scared. “I’ll be awake. I promise.”

Layne walked him out, her arm around his shoulder as she spoke
softly to him. Nora fussed with Tori’s pillow, helped her sit up.

She must’ve been out longer than she’d thought if Brandon and
her sisters were here. And Greg and Colleen, she realized, remembering what
Layne had said about them being in the waiting room. Thank God they were here
for Brandon.

“More water?” Nora asked, holding the cup. Tori nodded and
drank then leaned back with a groan. “Should I call the nurse?” Nora asked. “Get
you some pain medicine?”

“No. Thanks. It might make me drowsy. I’ll wait until after
Brandon comes back. How did he get here?”

“Greg picked him up from school.”

Tori looked out the window but it was still as gray and
overcast as it’d been earlier. “What time is it?”

“Nearly five,” Nora said, sitting gingerly on the side of the
bed. “We all came as soon as we heard. Layne was already here when I
arrived—”

“She always has to be first.”

Nora smiled but it wobbled around the edges. “True. Greg and
Colleen came with Brandon and Dad and Celeste are out there, too, with Ross and
Jess. Layne called Aunt Astor… told her what was going on. We, uh, thought it
would be best if they didn’t come down until a few of us had cleared out.”

Probably a good idea seeing as how their dad had told his
brother he never wanted to see him again.

“The nurses didn’t want too many people in here at once,” Nora
continued, straightening the bedcovers, “and Dad figured you’d want us to be
here so…” She shrugged.

Their dad had been right. Seeing her son’s face, her sisters
being there when she woke up, meant more to her than she’d ever be able to
say.

The door opened and Layne returned and stood at the end of the
bed. “The EMTs didn’t have much information. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I…” Frowning, she touched her forehead gently, felt a lump. “I
was on my way home and I…I glanced down, just for a moment, to switch songs on
the iPod…”

It all came back to her with sickening clarity. She’d been
returning home from Boston, had been in a hurry so she wouldn’t be late picking
Brandon up from practice.

“I looked up, took the curve too fast. When the car went off
the side of the road, I…I overcorrected.” She could still taste her panic, could
still feel the cold fear that had raced through her. “I spun.... God, I thought
I’d never stop but then it did and the next thing I knew, the car was flying
through the air and then it slammed to a stop.” Her seat belt had dug into her,
the air bag had deployed but she’d been wrenched to the side, hitting her head
against the door. “The next thing I remember I was on the ground and the EMTs
were there.”

“You were lucky,” Nora said, her hand on Tori’s knee. “The
doctor said other than a mild concussion and some scrapes and bruises, you’re
fine. He doesn’t think you have any internal injuries but he still wants to keep
you here overnight for observation.”

Tori sighed. As much as she’d like to argue, as much as she
wished she could go home, the thought of moving, let alone of walking out of the
room, held no appeal. She’d much rather stay right in this bed with its easy
access to pain meds.

“Thank God your air bag deployed,” Layne said, sounding shaky.
Worried.

“Hey,” Tori said softly, holding her hand out. Layne hesitated
but then entwined her fingers with Tori’s. “I’m okay.”

Layne nodded. “I know, it’s just…”

“It was scary,” Nora finished for her.

Tori squeezed Layne’s hand then let go. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Layne said, trying to smile. “And that’s the
first time I’ve ever said that.”

Tori laughed, her breath catching at the pain. “Don’t make me
laugh. It hurts.”

“Sorry,” Layne said. She cleared her throat. “What were you
doing on Old Beach Road anyway?”

Pretending to pick a piece of lint off the sheet, Tori kept her
gaze averted. “I…I went into Boston. To do some shopping.”

Not quite the truth, just not a complete lie. The truth was,
Celeste’s offer of a partnership had frightened Tori so much, she’d realized she
had to make some hard choices. Immediately. Starting with what she wanted to do
with her life.

What she wanted was to start a new life, just her and Brandon,
in Boston.

Brandon came in carrying a plastic container of nachos in one
hand, a soda in the other.

“So glad to see the healthy eating options here at Mystic Point
General Hospital,” Tori said. “What? Didn’t they have any ice cream and jelly
beans?”

“Dad said I could get whatever I wanted,” Brandon said, looking
defiant.

And that was the kid she knew and loved.

She sighed. “It’s fine. I’m teasing.”

He crossed to her, sat on the other side of the bed. “What are
you guys fighting about?” Brandon asked, sipping his soda.

“Who says we were fighting?” Layne asked.

Brandon lifted a shoulder. “You’re always fighting.”

Tori exchanged a look with her sisters. “Well, today is one for
the record books then.”

“That’s right,” Layne said, ruffling his hair. “No fighting
today.” She looked at Tori. “You okay? You need anything?”

Tori laid her hand on her son’s back, inordinately pleased when
he didn’t jerk away. “I’m good.”

She had everything she needed right here. Her son by her side.
Her sisters’ love and concern. What more could she ask for?

“I’ll stop by in the morning, see how you are.” Layne leaned
down and gave Tori a gentle hug, held on for a moment longer than necessary.
Tori didn’t mind. “You need to be dropped off?” Layne asked Nora as she
straightened.

Nora shook her head but got to her feet. “Griffin’s going to
get me, but thanks.” She leaned over and kissed Tori’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re
okay. Love you.”

Tori smiled. “Love you, too.”

“I’ll send Dad and Celeste in if you’re up for more company,”
Nora said from the doorway.

Tori glanced at her son. “Sure. But could you maybe give me
five minutes first?”