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Jack wanted to rush down the sterile hallways to Aunt Nadine’s hospital room, but he took it slow and easy. He might need to get his wound looked at—and soon. No telling what he’d done to his arm last night while fighting with Briggs/Gray and then getting Terra up that cliff to safety.
He’d do it all again, of course. Whatever was necessary.
But right now, he gritted his teeth because fire burned through his arm. He’d give the NSAIDs some time to take effect. Now that he had answers about the murders, he could take a few days to recover.
Jack entered Aunt Nadine’s room and found her sitting up and smiling. She was her old self again. Jack had learned from his neighbor that Aunt Nadine had woken up on the sidewalk outside her house disoriented and confused. She could have gotten lost. Succumbed to the elements.
He exhaled his relief. She sat safe and secure in that hospital bed. A bump on her head, but that was all.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” He grabbed her hand, hoping she understood just how much she meant to him.
“Did you get him? Did you get that murderer, Jack?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I know how hard this has been on you.” Aunt Nadine sighed as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
Jack released her hand and crossed his arms. Was this about his dad? He didn’t think he could go through this again.
“Growing up, you were so driven to prove yourself. You said you wanted to be a hero. You had to do something to prove you weren’t like your father.”
Jack covered his eyes, released a pent-up sigh, then dropped his hand. “Aunt Nadine, I—”
“Don’t interrupt me. I have to get this out. I should have told you this long ago.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“You’re just like your father.”
Jack wanted to turn his back. Not this. Not now.
“You don’t understand. He was a hero, Jack. Your father was a good guy. He ... he took down some bad guys in a drug cartel.”
Okay. Aunt Nadine ... His heart cracked. He didn’t think there was anything left to break.
“Before you were born,” she said. “He worked undercover for the DEA. He was a hero. The story was that, unfortunately, he had played his role so well that he’d also become addicted to drugs. He quit the job. Got into rehab. He got a desk job at the county. Met your mother and got married. Had a baby—you, Jack. But the truth is that he was never addicted to drugs. The brother of the cartel gang leader your father took down found him. Your father’s death was actually a murder, as was your mom’s car accident.”
What? Jack found the chair next to the wall and eased into it. He rested his head in his hands. “How do you know this?”
“Before I took you in, I demanded answers from his superiors and was silenced with the truth. I could never speak a word of it, or else I could bring danger to myself and to you. The story for the news was that he had struggled with addiction and that he committed suicide. I know it’s not fair for a hero to go down with such a dark story, a lie. I see now how that affected you, but that was for our safety, Jack. Please don’t jeopardize your safety by digging up that past. I simply thought you should know that you are a hero like your father was a hero.”
The news stunned Jack. More than anything, he wanted to believe her words, but his aunt struggled with dementia and could be confused. He wasn’t sure he trusted her story. If he did any digging of his own, he could bring danger to Aunt Nadine’s door. He would give it some time and speak with her about it again, but right now Jack chose to believe this new truth about his father.
A fiftyish woman wearing a white coat and stethoscope entered. “I’m Dr. Presser.” She flashed a smile. “Just call me Carol.”
“Hi, Carol,” both Jack and Aunt Nadine said simultaneously.
“I spoke briefly with your primary doctor, who filled me in on the dementia you’ve been experiencing.”
“I don’t have dementia. He keeps telling me that. Just a few memory problems.”
Jack kept his face straight.
Carol hesitated as though considering her next words. “I think you could be experiencing a reaction to your anxiety medication. That, combined with the fact you have very low levels of vitamin B. Either or the combination of both can cause symptoms of dementia. We’re switching up your medication, and I’m prescribing vitamins. You could see significant improvement in your memory.”
Jack shared a stunned look with his aunt. Confusion lined her features, then her face relaxed. Acceptance.
