Half Empty (First Wives, #2)(48)

Trina turned the phone over to Reed, and he read it out loud. I know you’re in the middle of the big party, just dropping a note to say that everything in NY went well. Fedor liked really expensive things. En route to the house so call if you need to talk. Texting and driving in NY is just asking for trouble.

Reed ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“We need to find out what she had on her, if anything.”

“I don’t care about the stuff—”

“This is about motive. Someone mugging her for a purse, a wallet, a fifty-thousand-dollar watch . . . that makes sense. Someone beating her up for nothing . . . and then dragging her behind a car so she wasn’t quickly found by the first person to walk by . . . that feels too calculated for me. Or worse, they wanted her dead and were interrupted before finishing the job.”

“You don’t think this was random?” Wade asked.

“I used to be a cop. So no. I never think anything is random. But the motive of a thief is a hell of a lot easier to sleep on than a motive of someone wanting to harm Avery just to see her battered and bruised.”

“Who would want to hurt Avery? She makes friends, not enemies.” Trina looked at Lori.

“Someone wasn’t happy with her.”

The door leading into the patient rooms opened and a nurse peeked into the waiting room. Trina sat taller and gave the woman her full attention.

“Ms. Cumberland?”

Lori and Trina both stood at the same time.

“She’s asking for you.” The nurse looked around the room. “Three visitors at a time,” she said to all of them.

Trina looked over her shoulder at Wade.

“Go, I’ll stay out here.”

Reed, Lori, and Trina followed the nurse back. In complete contrast to the waiting room, the ICU was lit up like it was one in the afternoon and not one in the morning. Nurses walked in different directions, the machines beeped and moaned, and the smell of human suffering oozed from the walls. The scent was unique to a place that saw the body in all stages of decay and trauma but was kept sanitary by antiseptic soaps and cleaning solutions. Trina hated it.

Lori squeezed Trina’s hand. “She looks really bad. Try not to react with her watching.”

The nurse led them into Avery’s room and pulled back the curtain.

Trina bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Avery’s head was completely bandaged, her face covered in gauze with the exception of her eyes, mouth, and chin. All of which were swollen and bruised to the point that Trina wouldn’t have recognized Avery if she didn’t know it was her. Her right arm was in a splint and her right leg was sitting outside the blanket and elevated on a pillow. It, too, was covered in some kind of wrap.

“Hey . . . ,” Lori said softly, and Avery opened her eyes.

Avery licked her lips like it took serious effort to do so.

Trina stood at the end of the bed, not trusting herself to speak.

Lori took the chair on the side and pulled it closer to the bed.

“W-what happened?” Avery asked.

Lori looked at the nurse.

“You don’t remember?”

Avery moaned.

The nurse spoke up. “She’s amnesic to the event. The concussion isn’t letting her remember anything you tell her. She’ll ask the same questions over and over.”

Trina squeezed her hands into fists. “Is that going to go away?”

Reed placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Most of the time it does. It’s early. Try not to worry. Just answer her questions.”

“Trina?” Avery pulled her drugged gaze toward her.

“Hey, honey.”

“Weren’t you gone?” Avery asked slowly.

The fact that she remembered gave Trina hope. “Yes, I was.”

Avery closed her eyes and asked again, “What happened?”

Lori cleared her throat. “You were mugged in the parking garage.”

“I was?”

“Yes.”

“I’m in the hospital?” Avery opened her left eye, which seemed to be the less swollen of the two.

“You are.”

“Avery, do you remember why you were in New York?” Reed asked.

Her gaze floated over to them again. “Hi, Reed.” She moaned. “My head hurts.”

Reed shook his head. “You rest and get better.”

They all stood there staring for five minutes. Avery opened her eyes again. “What happened?”



Wade stood when Trina and her friends returned.

Trina had lost a year off her life in the span of ten minutes. She was white as a sheet and holding back the pain that screamed through her eyes.

Wade opened his arms and she fell into them.

“She doesn’t remember anything. I’m not sure she will by morning either,” Reed told him.

“If ever,” Lori said.

“Might be for the best,” Jeb said.

Trina lifted her head from Wade’s shoulder and turned around. “We were keeping a list of contacts on a spreadsheet at the house. She would have written down who she was seeing and where. I should go and get it so we can make calls when everyone opens in the morning.”

Reed nodded. “Good idea, only I’ll go. You stay here for Avery.”