No One Knows Part 17

How did she do that?

He shouldn't ask. She knew too much as it was. Insightful Aubrey.

His heart blossomed with something new and different, a feeling of warmth and excitement and depth that he'd never felt before. He shook hands with his new friends, went off toward his homeroom with strength in his step. High school was going to be just fine.

CHAPTER 29.

Aubrey Today Three days passed with frustrating slowness. Aubrey and Tom took turns at the hospital, Tom during the day, Aubrey at night. They did twelve-hour shifts, watching, waiting, anticipating. Daisy had good moments and bad, but she'd been on an upswing for the past two days, and the doctors thought they'd be able to remove the ventilator by the end of the week.

Aubrey was completely exhausted. Exhausted and off her schedule and struggling with her emotions because, though she should be feeling nothing but pity and remorse, in all honesty, she enjoyed Daisy's silence. Enjoyed her pain. That made her a bad person, she knew. But the woman had always been so cruel, so horrible, that Aubrey had a hard time mustering up too much sympathy for her.

She'd been anesthetized against compassion. That made her a sociopath, didn't it?

It was a horrifying thought. Surely it wasn't entirely true.

Not entirely. She'd loved Josh desperately. And in her way, she loved Tyler. And she certainly had some sort of feelings for Chase. She would kill anyone who hurt Winston. She could cry when upset.

A psychopath then. Able to feel, but always choosing to follow the wrong path.

Aubrey checked the clock. Nearly two in the morning. Daisy was sleeping and, if the pattern she'd fallen into held, would be out until the overnight nurse came to do her vitals at four. Aubrey yawned and decided to risk a trip down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.

She crept out of the room so as not to wake her mother-in-law, and closed the door quietly behind her. The hallway lights were bright; she rubbed her eyes against the sudden glare. A man she didn't recognize walked by, toward the last bank of rooms, and she realized just how unsecure a hospital was. The thought set her heart to beating hard, a tiny rush of adrenaline. Anyone could be here. Anyone could claim familial ties and walk the hallways at all hours. It totally creeped her out.

She alerted the nurse where she was headed in case of emergency, then took the elevator to the first floor. The hospital itself was a labyrinth, one she'd never thought she'd know so well. Too bad they hadn't taken Daisy to Vanderbilt, which Aubrey knew well from Josh's time there.

Instead, the first few days in Midtown, she'd ended up in parking lots and cardiac care units and outpatient surgery centers before she started to get a feel for the veering hallways that led to the appropriate bank of elevators. A person could get lost too easily around here, and it was rare to find people who could direct you to the right place; three-quarters of them were lost as well, and the others were busy rushing to their assigned spots. It could be quite frustrating.

But she finally got the hang of it.

Aubrey exited the elevator, smelled the dim antiseptic air that indicated freshly mopped floors. She was chilly, clutched her arms together for warmth. Yes, a coffee would be good. Maybe even a quick granola bar or some chocolate. Fuel.

The cafeteria was open with modified service, self-service, and prepacked foods only. A sleepy clerk sat on a stool by the register, his head nodding.

Aubrey got a large cup of coffee and a Hershey bar. She paid the attendant and decided to sit and drink for a bit. She had time. Daisy wouldn't wake up. She'd never know.

She took a hard plastic seat by the window, even though there was nothing to see in the dark. The trees had small, dim lights planted in the mulch shining up their thin trunks, but this was an interior courtyard, so there was nothing outside to distract from the quiet.

She sipped the coffee and wondered what was next. Chase had gone back to Chicago. He had to work, an article due. He'd be back Thursday night. She was looking forward to seeing him. To talking with him. To touching him and smelling his scent and feeling his hands caress her body.

But she didn't know where she wanted things to go yet. It was a silly thing to worry about, but Aubrey had only ever been in love with one man, and was a monogamous creature at heart. She wanted to know what to expect, what to plan for. For the schedule to magically appear: You will date for three months; he'll suggest moving in. Since you have the yard for the dog, he'll want to live in Nashville. And on New Year's Eve, he will propose, and you will be torn as to what to answer. You'll want to say yes, but have you spent enough time getting to know him? And then there's the question of children . . .

God, Aubrey. Cart before the horse much? You don't even know if he's trustworthy.

"Is this seat taken?"

Aubrey jumped. A man was standing at her elbow. Silvery hair, dark eyes. Jeans and a sweater. Oddly familiar. He made her uncomfortable, but she didn't want to seem rude.

"Um, no?"

"Oh, good." He sat down across from her, his own cup of coffee to hand. "It gets so lonely here at night. It's nice to see another civilian. Mom sick?"

"Mother-in-law."

"Ah. The toughest relationship. You've stolen her son away, he's chosen you over her. Oedipal complex aside, it's always fraught with danger."

Aubrey couldn't shake the eerie feeling she was getting from this guy.

"Your . . . wife is ill?" she guessed.

"Ah, no. Just a friend." He smiled and took a sip of his coffee. Aubrey realized he was the strange man from the hallway upstairs-that's where she'd seen him-but now, face-to-face, he seemed even more familiar.

"Have we met?"

"I don't know. Have we?" He cocked his head to the side and smiled. Aubrey stared at him. She totally knew him, and not just from the hospital. But from where?

"May I?"

With a small smile, he broke off a piece of her chocolate bar. The audacity of the move shocked her. She grabbed the chocolate bar, pulled her chair and person back from the table.

"Don't you love chocolate? It makes the day more special." He smiled a little, and chills ran down her spine.

Aubrey stood, picking up her cup and the chocolate. "I need to get back upstairs."

"Oh, don't go just yet. Let's talk some more."

"Thanks, but I'm going to head up."

"How is your husband?"

She didn't answer, just started toward the coffee urns again to top off.

She heard the man approaching from behind.

"Aubrey, right? Aubrey Hamilton? Really, how is your husband? His name is Josh, if I recall."

Aubrey whirled around, out of patience. "Good night." She started away, but he grabbed her arm.

"I asked you a question. How is dear Josh?" His voice was no longer friendly and inquisitive. Now it was filled with menace.

She tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but he had her in a steel grip. "He's dead, you sick bastard. My husband died five years ago."

"Now, now. Doesn't do to lie. I saw you with him earlier in the week. In the elevator. Yes, I'm sure it was you."

"That's just a friend of mine. My husband is dead."

The man stroked his chin. He spoke almost to himself, sotto voce. "Really? After all this time, too. Fascinating."

She jerked on her arm. He let go, and she started away.

"Mrs. Hamilton?"

She turned to glance back at him.

"If you hear from him, do let me know." He handed her a card.

Aubrey was too shocked to do anything but take it. She finally came to her senses and scurried back to the elevator. The man didn't follow her, just stood grinning by the coffee urns.

When the doors closed, she remembered to breathe.

She was shaking, her hands trembling so hard that hot coffee sloshed out of the opening in the lid, spilling on the card and burning her hand.

"Son of a bitch!"

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor while she was cursing. The nurse on duty saw her and jumped up from behind the desk. "Are you okay?"

Aubrey nodded, left the elevator, cradling her hand. "Coffee burn."

"Let me see it," the nurse commanded. Aubrey stopped and held out her hand. The nurse tsked over it for a moment, then said, "Go rinse it in cool water. It's not too bad. Hey, by the way, your mother-in-law is awake."

"Thanks," Aubrey said. Great. Just what she needed. She went to the room and set her coffee and the ruined card on the small shelf above the radiator, then made eye contact with Daisy, who was burning mad. Aubrey could see it in her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

One big blink for no.

"Do you hurt? I can get the nurse to supplement your last shot."

Another single blink.

Aubrey sighed. "I wish I could read your mind, Daisy. Or that you could write. Do you want to try?"

Two blinks. Yes.

"Okay." This was something they'd been working on. Daisy wanted to communicate, but she hadn't had enough energy to make the pen move properly. Decoding her chicken scratchings had been difficult. The doctors said with practice she'd get better. But there was one word she had managed to write, several times.

Aubrey got out her Sharpie and notepad and placed the pen in Daisy's grasp. Aubrey held the pad up at an angle so Daisy could see it properly. She wrote shakily, halting, but miraculously, the word finally made it onto the page. Aubrey turned it around and read it.

Josh?

She sighed, heavy and impatient. How many times were they going to go through this?

"Daisy, Josh is dead."

Her tone lacked conviction, and Daisy started a string of blinks indicating emphatic nos.

"The man you saw here isn't Josh. That's Chase. He's my friend, my . . . boyfriend. He's a freelance writer from Chicago. Josh passed away five years ago."

Daisy waved the pen toward the pad again. Aubrey obliged, and the older woman wrote some more. Her hand fell to her side, limp. Aubrey looked at the pad again.

Not dead.

Jesus. What the hell was going on today?

She patted Daisy's arm and nodded. "Okay, Daisy. Time for you to get some sleep."

She started to press Daisy's morphine button, but Daisy had already closed her eyes and was starting to drift.

Aubrey stepped back to her uncomfortable chair and wedged herself on the cushion, legs drawn up underneath her.

What had just happened? Who was the man who'd appeared downstairs, asking about Josh? And why did he seem so familiar?

She picked up the coffee-stained card gingerly, as if it were a bomb that might go off. DC Investigations-Private, Secure, Discreet. There was no address, just a handwritten phone number, the last three digits smeared out of recognition from the coffee spill. Shit. She held it to the light. Maybe that last number was a seven, or a four? She turned the card over and saw a name written on the back.

Derek Allen.

She knew that name. But where from?

Damn it, she shouldn't have taken the pills. They made her foggy, and she suddenly realized she needed to be sharp right now.

She shook her head. This was all crazy. Utterly nuts. She couldn't go through this again. She knew Josh was gone. Knew it in her soul.

So why were two people suddenly claiming he was still alive?

She looked blindly out into the blank night. The answers were there, if she was willing to face them. And Derek Allen was the key.

CHAPTER 30.

After several hours of worrying, and shaking off the fear that crowded in to fuel her nightmares, Aubrey finally fell asleep in the hospital chair. She managed to stay under for a full hour. When she woke, the sun slinking through the blinds, she had a sleepy thought: Keep her head in the sand. Dismiss the craziness from last night as exactly that. The guy from the cafeteria was wrong. And Daisy, well, Daisy had suffered a head injury. Insisting Josh was alive . . .

So much for running from the truth.

Aubrey awakened more fully, finally allowing the thoughts she'd been trying to pretend she wasn't having to come to the fore.

There was a clear resemblance between Josh and Chase. She'd seen it from the very beginning; that's what had intrigued her in the first place. It wasn't looks: Josh was fair, with blue eyes and brown hair. Chase had darker skin, not tan, just more olive, with coffee-colored eyes and blond hair. The basics were different. The bone structure was different. But there was something similar in the way they walked, the way they talked, the way they kissed, the way they made love. Something similar, but so very different.

Josh had a scar on the inside of his right thigh, and a constellation of freckles on his back with which Aubrey, for fun, used to play connect the dots. The result was a lopsided Mickey Mouse. Chase didn't have freckles on his back or a scar on his thigh. She'd seen both areas and she knew they weren't there.