AllFreeNovel
Share Us
An email alerts me that the new phone I bought for Oliver has been delivered to my house. After finishing my lunch and saying goodbye, I swing by and grab it before returning to work.
Two boudoir sessions and a maternity shoot later, I’m on my way back to the hospital. Hopefully, Oliver is in a better mood.
My heart jumps into my throat when I enter Oliver’s room and Detective Ramos stands beside the bed.
“What is it? What’s happened?” I ask.
For the first time, I see the detective smile. “We made an arrest. I wanted to let Oliver know in person and see if he recognized the suspect.”
Oliver shakes his head. “I don’t recognize anyone,” he grumbles.
The detective shows me a mugshot. The guy looks a little different from the old mugshot that was released to the public. His hair is shorter, and he has facial hair, but it’s him. Connor Warren. One of the men responsible for Alden’s death and Oliver’s injuries.
“It was his fingerprint on the wallet?” I ask.
“Yes. There’s no doubt. We have him. I have more good news. The other man has been identified as his cousin, Dean Warren. We have a warrant for him as well and his picture will go out to the media tonight.”
My hand leaps to my mouth too late to cover the sob. After months, I’d started to lose hope we’d ever get justice. Detective Ramos pats me on the back while I take a deep breath. “Thank you.” It’s all I can manage to say in my shock and relief. It’s a matter of time for the cousin.
“He’s being charged with two counts of murder and armed robbery. He has a record a mile long. There’s no way the judge will allow bail.”
“How did you find him?” I ask.
“It was a call to the tip line from a young woman who has a baby with Connor. She let us know when he was coming to visit the child and we were waiting for him. She also knows the cousin and turned them both in with the hope of claiming the reward.”
“It’s hers,” I exclaim.
Detective Ramos nods. “I’ll contact her and let her know. She’s asked us not to release her name to the media in fear of the cousin who’s still at large.”
“That’s understandable. I’ll get the cashier check for you to pass along to her. Please let her know how grateful we are.”
“I’ll do that.” He looks at Oliver who has been quiet. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better.”
“Thank you. Did he say why? Why he shot us?”
“No, he’s not talking other than to say it wasn’t him. If you want my opinion, this was a robbery gone wrong. The armed customer fired on them and it just went to hell from there. You and Alden were caught in the middle. Wrong place at the wrong time.”
The room falls into silence after Detective Ramos leaves. “Are you okay?” I ask Oliver.
“Suppose so. It doesn’t change anything. I’m still fucked up. They’re transferring me to a rehabilitation center in the morning.”
He doesn’t resist when I grab his hand. “I’m sorry that you’re going through this. I know it’s hell. But I need you to care, Oliver. I need you to work hard to get better so you can help me make sure these fuckers pay for what they did to our family.”
His angry expression flickers, showing the vulnerability hiding beneath when he asks, “Will you still visit me?”
“Until you’re sick of seeing my face.”
* * *
Oliver seems to take my plea for him to get better seriously. His physical therapist raves over him, praising how hard he works and how fast he’s progressing. I can see changes every time I visit. It’s hard to watch him struggle over things we all take for granted. Like being able to feed yourself, button your own shirt, or walk without the fear of falling.
I visit daily, even if it’s just to pop in, get screamed at and leave. Those days are getting fewer as he recovers, and I don’t take it personally. He’s exhausted after spending hours a day working on his physical and mental exercises. Add that to the stress and frustration of not being able to remember anything about himself or his life before the robbery. Of course, he’s angry and upset. As the weeks add up without any sort of breakthrough in that department, his mood gets worse and worse. The doctors assure me it’s a part of the recovery process, and to give him time. His brain is still healing. They’ve tried to get him to speak with a psychiatrist, but he won’t cooperate. I hate it that he’s so miserable.
It's been a long day. Tori called earlier to let me know she tried to visit Oliver and he wouldn’t see her. It would probably be the same for me, so I go home instead. I’ll call and check on him later. He doesn’t spend much time on his phone because staring at the screen triggers his migraines. He had two seizures during his first two weeks in rehab, and I know he worries about triggering another of those too, though they seem to be controlled by his medication now.
My stomach growls, reminding me I skipped lunch today. I’m too tired to bother with cooking. Instead, I prepare a frozen pizza, then settle down in front of the TV to eat. There’s nothing on that can keep my attention and once I’ve finished eating, I click it off.
It’s getting dark. This is the most difficult time of day. In the evening, when the light fades, closing the world in around me, that’s when I really feel it. When I just want someone here.
