He smooths a dressing over the place my stomach once bled. “I’ll leave you to it.”
The doctor gives his attention to Detective West and Gleaton, who stand beside him.
Fucking dick. Why won’t anybody tell me anything apart from my children are safe and my family are here?
I tense my muscles and as I do, the metal of the handcuffs rattles against the bars of the hospital bed I’m secured to.
“Are you going to cooperate?” West glares at me as if I’m scum. The smell of stale nicotine and coffee on his breath makes me want to shove my fist down his throat. If only I could escape these binds.
“Are you going to tell me how my wife is?” I snap.
“Answer our questions.”
“Answer mine.”
The hospital bed I’m in isn’t even surrounded by walls. Instead, it’s surrounded by blue curtains that are pulled closed.
“Reid, we need your statement.”
I’ll give you a statement. My foot straight up your arse. Who in the hell arrests a man whose wife is dying in front of their eyes? That’s what I’d like to know. Not only was I ripped away from Morgan when the men in black arrived, I was thrown in the back of an ambulance without her, wearing a pair of handcuffs.
“You’ve taken a life. You’ve been arrested for manslaughter. This is serious. I told you to trust me. You didn’t. Now, help me, help you.”
“Trust you. Pfft. If it wasn’t for me getting to Morgan she would never have been found. You want to help me? Then tell me how my wife is. Tell me if she’s alive. I just want to know if she’s alive. Please.” I look into West’s grey eyes hoping this time he’ll tell me what I want to hear: that they’d restarted her heart, and she’s okay.
“Logan Raffety. Did you know he was a nephew of John’s?”
“Logan Raffety.” What the fuck does John’s apparent nephew have to do with the price of eggs in China? Never met the man. Didn’t even know he existed.
“He’s responsible for Morgan’s kidnapping and subsequent …” West doesn’t continue.
“The fucking news reporter did it. I should know. I strangled …” I don’t say another word.
“Gregory Stiles and Logan Raffety are the same man. Now, did you know John’s nephew Logan or not?”
“Nope. Didn’t know he had a nephew.”
“We need your statement, Reid. I have to follow procedure.”
“And I need you to tell me if my wife is alive. Just tell me,” I roar, trying to sit up, the restraints cutting into my wrists and pulling me back down against the bed.
“She’s in resus.”
“Is her heart beating?”
“I don’t know.”
“Get me a lawyer.”
I close my eyes and picture Morgan’s chest rising. I listen for the sound of her heart beating and try hard to believe it’s not unmoving as it was the last time I saw her. Morgan’s a fighter, and now all I can do is hope that she had just enough strength left inside of her to find a way to live.
Reid
Six months later
I sit stretched out on a deck chair sunk into the lush white sand on the island of Barbados. I think of Morgan, our honeymoon spent in a place we both never wanted to leave, and I wish we never did.
I watch in silence as the waves crash hard against the shore, and our two beautiful children run in and out of the ocean’s force, tumbling and squealing as they resurface.
Six months has changed many things, but I still have a long way to go. As the sun glistens over the clear waters, I tense as I’m pulled back to those torturous days of hell my wife endured at the hands of a complete psychopath. These thoughts refuse to leave me, as well as the memory of the man who smothered everything we created for our family. His bulbous eyes still haunt me when I sleep. It’s on constant replay in my mind—that moment when the flame that was alight inside him was extinguished by my hands. Even though in the eyes of the law I’m free of all guilt, and my actions have been deemed to be those of a man performing self-defence, I’m still haunted by my decision to end his life. Clarity is a beautiful thing. Any person who says taking a life can come without punishment is a liar. I’ll be forever punished. I’m not God. I had no right. An eye for an eye was not the correct decision in the end. I hope one day, I find forgiveness for myself.
“Daddy, Daddy, are you watching?” Aleeha shouts, a smile lifting her cheeks.
“Yes, sweetheart, I saw you. How clever,” I say as she completes another cartwheel along the soft sand right in front of me.
“Did you just see that flip, Dad?” Brax’s chest puffs out with his pride. His somersault was perfect.
“I did, buddy. Loving your work.” I smile, pleased by the resilience my children have shown despite being so young.
The sun beats against my skin, causing a line of pink to form below the bottom of my boardshorts. It’s beautiful here and so far, being in this country has supplied me with a relaxation I’ve not felt since before Morgan was stolen from me.
“What are you thinking about, handsome?” she whispers. Her lips full, her sweet voice causing my heart to beat faster.
“Just about you, beautiful.”
She giggles. Beams of light fan behind her hair forming a perfect angelic glow. When she shifts into the shadow of a well-placed umbrella, I’m greeted with a seductive smile and fluttering eyelashes. “Did you miss me?” She sports the cutest pout when she crawls up my legs in her hot pink tankini, before straddling my waist.
“Only every second you’ve been gone, Morgan.” I wrap my arms tightly around her waist, pulling her head onto my chest.
“Let’s stay here forever,” she says softly.
We lie there, entwined in each other’s embrace as I twist strands of her brown locks around my fingers. “Whatever you desire.” Anywhere she wants to live is fine by me, because if we’re together then we’re home.
Morgan’s the bravest woman I know. I can never imagine the full extent of what those days in that hellhole were like for her. I can only assume from the marks on her body and the domino effect it’s had on her mental health since. Morgan barely speaks of her time in captivity, the fact that she died for a period, or even her ongoing recovery. Instead, she saves those conversations for the many doctors and counsellors trained to help her get through the coming months and years.
With me, Morgan converses about the things she wishes for in her future—in our family’s future. I know she suffers greatly, even though when she’s awake she curtains her true emotions behind thoughts of new beginnings.
Each night when I climb into bed beside her, stroking her hair until she’s asleep, I stare at the ceiling playing Russian Roulette with my own torment, waiting for the moment to come when I’ll need to save Morgan all over again. Only now, I must save her from the kicks, punches, and screams that accompany her fight with our bedsheets. Or on Morgan’s worst nights, I’ll be forced to take chase after she leaps from the mattress and runs for a life she forgets she doesn’t need to run to save anymore. Morgan’s never awake when she does these things, and after I have her settled in my arms she relaxes. The following morning brings not a memory of the night prior for my wife, but for me? Well, I never forget one single nightmare.
“Are you getting hungry? I know I am.” A soft kiss tickles my pec.
“I could eat.”
“Okay. I’ll go and get the kids. They’re back in the water.”
“No. I’ll get them. You relax.”
She perches herself on her elbows, her chestnut eyes gazing into mine. “I want to go and get them every chance I have for the rest of my life.”
Morgan presses forward and I graze my lips over hers before she devours my mouth with love, so much love.
“Be right back.” She hops to her feet and jogs down the beach. Morgan may be scarred, and still embroiled in an internal nightmare, but she’s beautiful just as she’s always been, inside and out.