The Edge of Sanity (34 page)

‘Jesus!’ Daniel let go of one trembling hand from the gun and dragged it through his hair. ‘Of course I
care
,’ he raged frustrated, and obviously confused. ‘But he’ll get out, won’t he?’

A sharp cough rattled his chest.

‘Jo and my kids are my life. Jo and Kayla … Were my … I …’ Daniel trailed off.

He closed his eyes.

And lowered the gun.

‘Hah.’ Charlie levered himself to his feet. ‘No bottle. Knew it. I’ll catch up with you when I’m out, Danny Boy.’ He smirked, as DI Short stepped towards him. ‘Keep that pretty wife of yours warm for me, won’t you?’

Daniel brought the gun back up sharp. ‘Say your fucking prayers, freak,’ he hissed.

‘Daniel!’ DI Short stopped dead. ‘Don’t!’

Chapter Twenty-Two

‘
Sonofabitch!
’ DI Short shouted. ‘Get them
out
of here!’ he ordered his men, glancing over his shoulder to where Joanne and Kayla were been being ushered towards the squad cars parked on the bridge. Dammit, Conner had gone and done it now. Good and proper. DI Short cursed under his breath as he scrambled onto the back of the boat.

‘Oh, Daniel, Daniel …’ DI Short tore off his jacket to try and staunch the flow, and found himself praying for the first time in his life for a scumbag the likes of Charlie Roberts.

He pressed the heels of his hand hard against the gaping wound in Charlie’s side, but the blood kept right on spurting. ‘Someone get an ambulance! And get
him
…’ He turned to glare at Daniel who’d fast been flanked by two officers, but his agitation faded to dismay as Daniel Conner dropped like a stone to the deck of the boat, his breathing laboured and his face the colour of death.

‘Get those bloody paramedics here! Now, for pity’s sake!’ DI Short pressed harder against the steady trickle of lifeblood from Charlie Roberts. ‘Live you bastard,’ he muttered. ‘Live, damn you.’

****

Jo tried to shield Kayla. Gulping back her own tears, she tried desperately to hold onto her, but Kayla seemed to possess the strength of three men.

‘Let me
go
!’ she sobbed, breaking free to run back down the towpath, DI Short was close behind and, thank God, faster than she.

‘No, Kayla!’ He caught hold of her arm, wrapped his own free arm around her waist, and held her tight. ‘Give the paramedics space to do their job, hey?’

‘Let go!’ She writhed, desperately attempting to wriggle free of him.

‘Kayla, no!’ DI Short wrapped both arms around her, pulling her hard back into a firm bear-hug. ‘It won’t help! You need to wait in the patrol car.’

‘He’s dying!’ Kayla screamed. ‘I have to go to him. I have—’

‘Kayla, he’s not!’ DI Short insisted forcefully. ‘What you have to do is try to stay calm, for your father’s sake.’

Ashen-faced, Jo clamped a hand to her mouth as the paramedics fought to resuscitate Daniel; to get him to take a breath of his own.
Please breathe, Daniel. Please.

He’d told her he loved her. He’d laid his soul bare. Swallowed every ounce of his pride. Been prepared to die to protect his family in what must have already felt like a tomb, and she hadn’t been able to respond, because that disgusting … thing … had stolen the moment away.

Stolen her husband.

She wouldn’t let him. Wouldn’t!

Couldn’t
.

Please God, not her man, as well as her child.

Her own breath coming in sharp gasps, Jo watched terrified as the paramedics tore at Daniel’s shirt, searching for a spot, she could see, searching for the right spot. She saw the sharp glint of a scalpel and felt the ground sway beneath her as they found it.

‘Come on.’ DI Short eased Kayla around to face him, the fight draining out of her as she watched and saw what Jo saw. He looked back to Joanne, trying to reassure her. ‘It’s a standard procedure, Mrs. Conner. They’re just trying to ease the pressure from his lungs. He’ll be fine.’ He folded Kayla to him and reached out his other arm for Joanne. ‘I’ve seen it done a hundred times.’

He was lying. Jo felt the tension in DI Short’s muscles as he pulled her towards him and knew he must be praying as hard as she was. She buried her face in his shoulder and reached a hand out to circle her daughter’s waist, to hold Kayla close and never,
ever
, lose sight of her again.

****

He might never know was all Joanne could think, as Daniel was lost in a flurry of white coats and taken straight to the operating room. He might never know how much she had loved him. Still loved him. Would never be whole again without him.

God, how hard would it have been to have told him before this? That though she hated what he’d become, withdrawn, emotionally inaccessible, she hadn’t hated him for Emma.

Why hadn’t she made it clear? Because alcohol had muddied her brain.

All she’d had to do was think, clearly. She’d known Daniel didn’t speak easily of emotional things. She could have eased the door open for him, instead of slamming it in his face, leaving him with the guilt, piling guilt on top of that guilt. Wasn’t that what insisting on going to counselling had done, in reality? Implied that guilt was what he should feel?

What was the point in raking over old coals? What had his childhood got to do with any of this
? She repeated to herself what Daniel had said at the counselling session, selfishly, Jo had thought then, before he’d stormed out, effectively shutting her out.

He
had
known what terror was. He’d been terrified of opening old wounds, of probing new ones. He’d learned silence as a child. Not to speak of his pain because he wouldn’t be heard, because there was no one to hear him. How else would he have got through it, but to bury the pain so deep down, he could pretend not to feel it?

Daniel’s inability to talk about Emma hadn’t meant he’d hurt any less than she. If anything, he’d hurt more. He’d been behind the wheel, for God’s sake.

She really had been blind, lost in her own pain. But how could she have seen, when he couldn’t say?

And now … it might be too late.

To hold him.

To comfort him.

To be there for him.

‘Mum,’ Kayla said in a small voice beside her, ‘will he come back?’

Jo tugged in a breath. ‘Yes.’ She nodded determinedly, tightening her arm around her daughter. ‘He’ll come back. We’ll be together again soon, I promise.’

He
would
come back. He had to. She forced herself to believe it. And when he did—Joanne made another promise, to herself and to Kayla, they would have all of him, the best of the man that had somehow got lost. Because while Joanne had breath in her own body and with God as a witness, she would
not
let Daniel Conner shut his emotions away ever again.

****

Jo hadn’t been aware she’d been sleeping. The steady blip, blip of the monitor combined with exhaustion must have lulled her to sleep. She had a crick in her neck and her arm was so numb she couldn’t feel it. She glanced to where her hand lay on Daniel’s, her fingers curled softly around his. He hadn’t moved. No movement at all apart from the soft flicker of his eyelids as his eyes chased his dreams.

Jo prayed they weren’t nightmares.

The surgeons had worked relentlessly, tirelessly, and by some miracle managed to prevent the blood clot, caused by that
animal’s
vicious blows from reaching his heart. It had been a miracle too. Even with surgical intervention, his chances had been slim to none, Jo had been made aware of that at the outset. He was weak. Still stuffed full of anaesthetic and morphine but, God willing, he would recover physically. Mentally and emotionally though, Jo knew those wounds might take longer to heal.

He was alive. That was all that mattered for now.

She breathed in, and then let out a long, shuddery, but determined sigh. ‘Don’t you dare die on us, Daniel Conner. Not now. You’ve come too far,’ she whispered, her voice loud against the silence punctuated by the bleeps of the life support system. ‘You get well. Get strong, do you hear me? Or you’ll be in big trouble. And this is just from your daughter.’

She squeezed his hand gently and wiped at her snotty nose with her free hand.

‘We have things to do, you and I.’ Lives to rebuild, she thought, forcing back a tear, then almost shot out of her skin as Daniel said, ‘Lie for me.’

Jo got halfway to her feet. ‘What?’ She stared hard at him.

‘Don’t let her see me like this. Tell Kayla I’m still sleeping.’ Daniel’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled, the faintest of smiles, then coughed and squeezed Jo’s hand hard.

Jo wasted no time, jabbing buttons and calling for help, and when it came, even while they were checking monitors and tubes and pillows and oxygen, Daniel refused to let go of her hand.

Finally, as comfortable as he could be, he dozed. Fitfully, Jo noticed as she watched him; jolting painfully awake, perspiration beading his brow and sheer terror in his eyes when they occasionally shot open.

He spoke little and incoherently mostly, sometimes the odd thing that made sense.
Where’s Kayla
, he’d asked at least four times, only to ask again, though Jo kept repeating she was safe with Hannah and her mum.

He’d asked where Emma was, too, which broke Jo’s heart all over again, only for Daniel though this time. Had he ever come to terms with the fact that she was gone, Jo wondered. The doctor had confirmed that the morphine was feeding his confusion, but still Jo worried. Daniel needed help, now more than ever, to be able to deal with their loss and let go of Emma. She would always be in their hearts. No one could ever take that away. But they had to put the bad memories to rest, treasure the good, and move on.

Both of them, together. They needed to talk. They needed to talk like never before, openly, honestly, and to each other.

But not yet. If she was too numb to think straight, God knew Daniel had every right to be.

The fact was, they needed to relearn how to talk. To take baby steps forward instead of running away, and to be there for each other if one of them fell.

Jo checked again. He was still sleeping. Reluctant though she was, Jo knew she should leave him to rest. Use the time to make some calls and sort out somewhere to stay. Once that was done and she’d eaten something—if only to keep her own strength up—then she’d be back by his side, where Daniel might need her.

Weary to the bone and almost incapable of keeping her own eyes open, Jo brushed Daniel’s damp hair from his forehead, pressed her lips lightly against his cheek, then left him to rest. She wasn’t going far though, or for long until Daniel was out of danger. Kayla was safe at Hannah’s house for now, so she’d book a room at a nearby hotel, at least until she’d sorted out where on earth they were going to live.

She couldn’t go back to the boatyard, even though she was apparently free to do so. The police had finished their business there and Tony wasn’t pressuring her to move out. He’d been as good as gold when she’d rung him, caring and considerate, saying he’d put things on hold, but she couldn’t go back. Not yet. If ever.

Certainly not without Daniel.

Jo needed to get her own emotions in order. Right now, they were in turmoil. She needed to be able to think straight. To make whatever decisions needed to be made while Daniel wasn’t capable. To make the right decisions, for her family.

****

Joanne headed for the main entrance to the hospital where DI Short waited. Bless him for having the forethought to leave his contact number, she thought, glad to see a familiar face. She hadn’t a clue how she was going to even get to a hotel, let alone book a room, otherwise, without her purse or a penny to her name.

‘Joanne.’ DI Short stood to meet her, looking as exhausted as she felt. ‘How is he?’

Jo smiled. DI Short was a good man. She could always tell, by the eyes. Daniel’s eyes were a true window to his soul. And he was a good man, too. She wouldn’t lose sight of that again.

‘Better,’ she said. ‘Conscious, but not making much sense, I’m afraid.’

‘Do men ever?’ DI Short smiled. A mischievous yet compassionate smile, Jo noticed, and knew she was right. She would be able to trust this man, if she needed to. ‘Your carriage awaits ma’am.’ He held out his arm for Jo to hook on to, which she did gratefully.

He walked her towards the exit. ‘So where’s it to be? Somewhere close at hand, I presume?’

‘And cheap but cheerful.’ Jo nodded. ‘At least until I know what my next move …’ She trailed off as someone called out her name behind them.

‘Joanne!’ The woman hurrying down the corridor called again.

‘Someone you know?’ DI Short arched an eyebrow, looking somewhat bemused as the woman flapped towards them tripping over her flips flops.

‘Hannah’s mother,’ Joanne confirmed, confused.

‘Thank God for that,’ Cathy said, coming to a breathless halt in front of them, one hand on her heaving chest, one on DI Short’s shoulder as she kicked off a flip flop, then bent to rub her toes. ‘I’ve been calling you halfway across the hospital.’

Joanne blinked at her, confusion giving way to alarm. What on earth was she doing here? Surely she hadn’t …

‘Don’t worry I haven’t left the girls on their own.’ Cathy picked up Jo’s thoughts, slapping a flip flop noisily back down and wriggling her sore toes back into it. ‘They’re in the capable hands of my mother, who’s got her infamous homemade soup on the go as we speak. And Hannah’s downloaded a million films, so …’

Jo remembered her manners. ‘Thanks, Cathy. I’m grateful. How is she?’

‘Quiet,’ Cathy answered her honestly. ‘I’ve tried to coax her to talk, but she’s barely said a word.’

Joanne’s shoulders sank. ‘Not to Hannah either?’

Cathy shook her head. ‘She will in time. It’s all still a bit raw, after all. And she’s obviously worrying herself silly about her father.’

Still blaming herself, Jo wondered? She glanced down, overwhelmed by tiredness now, and the sheer weight of worry.

‘I have a room,’ Cathy said, without further ado. ‘I know what your situation is and I’m pretty sure you won’t want to be going straight back to the boatyard.’