Page 91 of Speechless

“There,” she said smugly, coming back to Connor. “You’ll have both by morning. Make copies ofeverythingbefore you hand it over to the FBI or anyone else, Connor. Evidence is going missing, according to Hadley, right? No reason these won’t go poof if they stand in someone’s way. Zeke’s father knows some people in the justice system—I’ve asked my beloved husband to pull strings. Are you going to tell Jenna?”

“Yes. No.”

“Maybe?”

“How can I tell her when it’s going to sway her opinion firmly onto the side ofthey’re the enemy?” It was the crux of his problem. Anything he said could be construed as leading Jenna, brainwashing her to his own end, in the wrong light. “There’s more than enough for her to worry about without adding this to the party. But if her parents go this route and win…what the fuck do I do, Sarah?”

She sighed, and some of the anger dissipated from her tone. “Write what you need to say, Connor. The whole stinking mess from start to finish and every last gory detail. If a judge is going to make a verdict, he might as well do it withallthe facts, not just those her family think will be sufficient to win a petition. Slap it in their faces, show them what you’ve gone through with Jenna while she’s been recovering, and make damn sure they know how she has been and is suffering.”

“But…Jenna can’t deal with that kind of scrutiny.”

“Unfortunately, Jenna will end up dealing with more than scrutiny if the psych ward gets hold of her. There won’t be any more bedtime cuddles or hands wiping her sweaty brow when she comes out of a nightmare, Connor. This shit is fucking serious. It’s a lifetime schedule of mind-altering psychotic drugs, padded restraints, and therapy through the roof. I hate the idea of breaching her privacy, just as much as you, but honestly, how do you see this turning out without using what you’ve got?”

“Badly,” he muttered. He looked at Jenna, nudging the covers away so he could see her face. Still at ease, the faintest sheen of drool over her lower lip, she made a pretty picture.

Luna peered at him.

“Go back to sleep, dog,” he ordered, then returned to his conversation with Sarah. “What if I ask one of her family to come over? Just one. Her mother maybe? Introduce them gradually, one at a time rather than en masse.”

“She might agree to that. I think that is something you need to run by her,” Sarah advised. “Your house is her territory, Connor. Her safe place, her home. Visitors need to respect that—and her—when they walk through the door.”

“You don’t think they will.” It wasn’t a question.

“I’ve never lost a child, Con. The twins are the primary pains in my ass, which is why they’re on the kiddie leashes wherever we go. Always trying to run off in the mall or play hide-and-seek in the grocery store. They’re never out of my sight. But I know the time is coming when I have to release them on unsuspecting shoppers and the general public—God bless their souls—and there’ll be moments of panic when they’re not in view. When I can’t find them for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. I can imagine the panic, almost taste it, but I’ve not lived it yet.

“If one of them vanished into thin air for three years? If he was found hurt but alive, I’d break the goddamn speed record to get to him. There wouldn’t be a wall or a door or a dog big enough to keep me from seeing him, making sure he was really all right.”

“Well hell, that’s not making me feel any better, Sarah. Thanks.”

“Not done. I hope someone like you would have his back. Would stand up in front of me—and God help you, in front of Zeke—and make fucking sure we listened to what you had to say. I’d hate you for it, for keeping me from seeing my son, but I hope I’d realize in the near future that what you did was done for a reason. A legitimate reason.”

The pressure inside him eased, and he relaxed back into the pillows. Running into this mess blind wasn’t his goal, but he couldn’t help but feel as though every step he took in whatever direction he thought best was screwing up Jenna’s future relationship with her family. “Okay. Okay, that brightens things up a bit.”

“Still not done,” she told him in a sing-song voice carrying an edge of laughter. “As long as you work in Jenna’s favor, pushing toward Jenna’s recovery and rehabilitation, her family have nothing to hate you for. That’s my opinion. From day one, you’ve done nothing but fight for her, every single treacherous step over rocky and hostile ground. More than that, more even than saving her life, you gave Jenna someone to love, and loved her in return. Any parent who thinks anything of their child would kiss your feet for that alone.”

Connor scowled at his bare feet, wiggled his toes. Ugh, no, thank you. He hadn’t taken Jenna in for the accolades; he’d been doing his damn job, and he hadn’t been able to resist the lure of those haunted green eyes, the way she’d clung to his jeans amid the storm of shit falling down around her. Loving her was the most natural phenomenon he’d ever experienced; one he could never regret or turn away from.

Only a fool would need praise for being the man a woman like Jenna loved.

“You still there, boss?”

“Are you done this time?” he asked with a wicked smile.

“Smart ass.” Her laugh rang down the line. “You wanted my advice, that’s it. Write your statement, set it aside until morning and catch some z’s with Jenna. Read what you’ve written again tomorrow, with fresh eyes and a clear head. And Connor?”

“Yes, oh wise one?”

“Trust yourself. Trusther. You’ve done a damn good job so far.”

She ended the call without another word, that single line of praise echoing in his head, no doubt just as she’d intended. Sarah was a clever woman, and she was adept at hitting the right spots at the right time.

Dropping the phone to the mattress beside his hip, Connor lifted the writing pad and stared at the blank sheet, blowing out a long breath. There was evidence in both video and photo form of Jenna’s initial condition. Her weight records spoke for themselves. Documenting the whole saga from the start was intrusive, he couldn’t get around that.

He reached out and dug under the covers until he found her hand. Small, warm, he smiled when her fingers curled around his in her sleep. Wouldn’t he do anything to keep this, to save her from being strapped to a bed in a room overlooking one of the big cities? Staring out day after day, blissed out on drugs until she didn’t know her own name, watching people in the buildings around her.

Being handfed, given bed baths, the option of either a catheter or bedpan. Left alone for long chunks of time, her main visitors the nurses who served the psych floor, the treating physician, the shrink.

Connor didn’t need to ask Jenna what she would do.

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