I drove in silence. Usually I played my favorite playlist and sang along, but I was feeling sick in the pit of my stomach and dread filled me the closer I got to the police station. My hands trembled lightly as I parked the car and made my way inside.
Grateful for the air conditioner that offered relief from the outside heat, I announced myself at the reception desk and was told to sit and wait. Fifteen minutes later, Sargent West appeared from an office out the back.
“Miss Forbes. Thank you for coming so soon.” His tone was polite, yet distant. “Sorry for the wait, I was busy on a phone call.” Maybe this was just routine for him, but I was virtually biting my nails while I agonized waiting for him.
“No worries.” I gave him a half-arsed smile.
“Follow me.” His beady eyes were hard and cold.
Goosebumps scattered my skin and I rubbed my arm with one hand to try and warm myself.
A single pot plant against the stark white wall did nothing for the office he led me into, neither did the bright light and cheap furniture. It was only when I saw three pictures on his desk, two of who I assume were his children and one of a woman with the two kids, that I managed a genuine smile. Detective West was human after all. Unless this was someone else’s office, of course.
He pointed to the chair closest to the door and I sat down, crossing my legs and arms as I waited. He lifted a single file off his desk and opened it.
“Is Carmen Fernando a patient of yours?”
I breathed in sharply. Of all the people, of the twenty-five patients I had seen over the past year, it had to be Carmen?
Too stunned to speak, I nodded.
“Her mother asked for you by name even though you aren’t the senior staff member at the rehab center.”
“W . . . what happened? Is Carmen okay?”
“She’s alive, but barely. The poor girl was hit by a car.” A fleeting glimpse of sympathy passed through his eyes. “She’s in hospital, but she’s in a critical condition.”
I swear the air conditioner sucked all the oxygen from the room. My head was spinning.
“Whose car was she in this time?”
So help me God, if her father had been drink-driving again.
“She wasn’t a passenger. A car ran her over.”
My hand flew to my mouth to try and stifle my scream.
“No. Oh, no.” I couldn’t control the trembling of my hands. Detective West placed a boney hand on my shoulder.
“Her parents were arguing. Her father backed out of the driveway quickly, knocking over the postbox and then the girl. The postbox is destroyed, it took the brunt of the impact, but it still didn’t stop the truck from crashing into Carmen.” Cold fingers dug into my skin as he squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“What was she doing outside?”
“Apparently her uncle had just dropped her off. They were at the end of the driveway, about to walk into the house.”
“Why was Carmen standing there? She shouldn’t have been there!” The anger in my voice must have taken Detective West by surprise because his eyes widened. Yeah, I looked tame, but when I was angry I turned into a freaking tiger.
“That’s why we need to question you, Miss Forbes. As her therapist we need you to make a statement about her previous capabilities so that we can compare it to her current condition.”
“Just tell me . . . was her father drunk?”
“Yes. Five times over the legal limit. He was too drunk to stay on the path.”
My shoulders slumped forward. Some people would never learn. It was his fault Carmen needed therapy in the first place, and now he’d done it again after swearing he’d never drive drunk again.
Shaking with rage, I jumped to my feet. “Can I see Carmen?”
“Calm down, Miss Forbes. I will allow you to see her, but I suggest you call somebody to accompany you. She doesn’t look good.” Detective West kept his tone neutral, but I could see anger flash across his face. “I have a daughter Carmen’s age. I’d hate to lose her to a DUI accident.”
Now I understood his solemn expression. If I had to deal with cases like this every day, I’d also have to distance myself in order to stay sane. Right now I had the urge to get into my car and find Carmen’s dad and uncle and cut their fucking balls off for hurting her. Come to think of it, her mother needed talking too as well.
As if he read my mind, he said in a dry tone, “Mrs. Fernando is receiving counseling. Both men have been questioned and Mr. Fernando is sleeping off his hangover in a cell.”
People like him should be left to rot behind bars.
“Lucky for him. Cause if I laid my hands on him—”
The detective shrugged, interrupting me. “He doesn’t have a scratch on him. Ironic eh?”
I nodded. “Life isn’t fair.”
Detective West gave me a wry smile and showed me back to the reception of the office and we said our goodbyes. I sat down on the hard wooden chair and immediately fished my phone out of my purse and dialed Grayson’s number. After three rings, he answered.
“Layla? Are you okay? Taylor just told me where you are.” The concern in his voice nearly made me cry. I bit back the burning in my throat, thankful to hear his calming voice.
“No, I’m not okay. It’s Carmen—” I choked back the tears in an attempt to appear professional.
“Carmen? What happened?”
“Can you pick me up and take me to her? She’s in hospital. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”
In the background I heard Taylor’s voice. “Oh my God, did something happen to Carmen?”
Grayson must have signaled her to be quiet, because his voice came over the line strong and without hesitation.
“I’m on my way, stay where you are. Drink something while you wait, okay? Tea, water, anything . . . but stay there.”
I sobbed out loud, I could always count on his kindness. What would I do without Grayson in my life?
Sending up a little prayer of gratitude to the heavens for him, I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “Thank you, Grayson.”
10: Grayson
Watching tears fill Layla’s eyes had a profound effect on me. During my training I’d learned to stay calm and impersonal, but this . . . this was personal as fuck. Layla was hurting and I felt so damn helpless as I stood with my arm wrapped around her shoulder as we stared down at Carmen’s frail little body. She looked like she was being swallowed up by the bed, she looked so tiny.
Her stats were awful. I’d be surprised if she made it through the night with all the internal bleeding she had sustained.
Layla held onto her limp little hand, stroking Carmen’s dark hair off her pale face.
“She looks like an angel,” Layla murmured, her voice catching in her throat. Her large green eyes met mine, sadness etched in their depths. “Can she hear me, Grayson?”
I nodded. Seeing my girl in so much pain ripped my fucking heart open. “Yeah, talk to her, sweetheart. She can hear you.”
Pulling a chair out, I pushed Layla down into it so she was closer to the bed. I stood behind her, rubbing circles on her shoulders to soothe her as she spoke to Carmen in a gentle voice.
Layla paused for a moment and then I heard her sing. She always joked that she was tone deaf and refused to sing except in private. I had heard her sing in the bathroom and she didn’t sound half as bad as she though she did, but I never expected her to put her discomfort aside. Stunned, I listened in silence to her sweet voice as she sang one song after another whilst stroking Carmen’s hand.
This woman.
Her heart was made of pure gold.
She’d be a wonderful mother one day. The kind of mother I wanted for my kids.
I sat in the chair beside her and massaged up and down her spine as Layla sang until her voice quivered too much to carry on. Her shoulders slumped forward.