This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2)(35)

Reaching for my cup, I pull it to my lips and sip. “I have plenty. Thanks.” My voice is hoarse after having the tube in my throat but I feel much freer. Dad had to leave to meet with a client but should be back any time.

“Good,” she says and smiles at me. “This morning we’re going to do some pulmonary therapies. Doc wants you out of that bed and doing some light activity. We’ll start by taking that catheter out and going to the restroom. You’re a big, strong boy. You can do this.”

I wince when she reaches for me but am thankful she’s donning a pair of latex gloves. The obsessions running rampant in my head are maddening but something bigger, more important is at stake. My Baylee. So, with thoughts of her in mind, I accept Cathy’s assistance. Another nurse enters the room and closes the door behind her. Fucking hospitals. Anytime they do anything invasive, there has to be a witness. To make sure nurses like Nurse Cathy aren’t molesting me or anything. It just prolongs the process and, therefore, my unease. Cathy works to remove the catheter while I grimace and groan. The heaviness in my chest still feels like a grown man is sitting on top of me. Every breath I take is short and labored. She assures me this is normal and that my body will heal as long as I continue to work to help it along. And I am. I will do whatever it takes.

“Good boy,” she sings like a mother praising a toddler after I piss into the plastic container attached to the toilet seat. It burns like hell. “You did more than I hoped for.” Her hand pats me on the shoulder and I shudder reflexively at her touch.

Baylee.

Baylee.

Baylee.

I exhale the stress of her touch and focus on the therapies. We’ve spent a good twenty minutes doing simple exercises beside the bed when Dad shows back up. Stark follows in behind with her disgusting partner. Thank f*ck there’s no toothpick in his mouth.

“Mr. McPherson. So glad to see you up and around this fine morning,” she chirps, a little too f*cking peppy for this early in the day.

Dad shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Looks like we’re done with therapy for a couple of hours, big guy,” Cathy says and helps me back into the bed. She scurries off and I turn toward Stark expectantly.

Her long, brown hair hangs in front of her breasts. She’s wearing a neat, fitted grey suit and black heels. The woman is actually pretty for her age. I guess her to be close to Dad’s age. Her dark eyes probe me, narrowing as if she can peel off the top of my skull and look inside. I’d gladly show her the darkness if she promises to take some with her when she exits.

“Mr. McPherson, this is my partner Steve Shilling. I’m not sure if you remember him or not.” How could I f*cking forget his disgusting ass? “You were still sort of groggy from your surgery,” she says and then frowns. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about Baylee Winston.”

“I told you that—” Dad starts, but she cuts him off.

“I took your statement, Mr. McPherson, and now I’d like to hear his.”

Dad sighs but nods toward me. I meet her eyes and furrow my brows together. “Baylee didn’t shoot me,” I grumble. “That psychopath Gabe did.”

“Gabriel Sharpe?” Her question is more of a statement. The woman may be questioning me but it seems as if she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Yes, and he took her. He took my girl.”

She raises both eyebrows at me and glances at Shilling. “You do realize she’s just that, right? A girl.”

Anger bubbles in my chest. “She’s eighteen. Have I done something wrong? Why are you here—again—instead of searching for her?”

Dad strides over to my bedside and touches my shoulder. His touch causes me to stiffen, but unlike before, it soothes rather than maddens me. And that is all because of Baylee. Her ability to slay the demons in my head so that I can be somewhat human. Normal even. Well, almost. “Calm down, son.”

“Anyway, her age is beside the point right now,” Stark clips out in annoyance. “What I’m trying to make sense of is her disappearance, Brandon Thompson’s involvement, her neighbor’s involvement, and the sudden disappearance of her father. Additionally, I’d like to inquire more about the sex ring you alluded to in your emails. How did you come to acquire Miss Winston, Mr. McPherson?”

Her barrage of questioning has my head spinning and Dad glowering at her and shaking his head.

“Perhaps we should contact our lawyer,” he says with a growl. “You’ve got no right to barge in here and accuse my son of anything. He’s innocent of whatever it is you’re cooking up. Warren loved that girl and she loved him back. He protected her from that bastard and took care of her when her own father turned his back on her. You’re barking up the wrong tree, detective.”

A smile plays at her lips. “Just tell me what you know so we can do our job to find the missing girl and to put this madman behind bars.”

Dragging my gaze from hers, I inspect the tray on my bedside table with disgust. I can handle the applesauce but that chicken broth shit looks deadly. They’ll have to knock my ass out and pour it down my throat because I won’t willingly allow it anywhere near my mouth.

“Mr. McPherson…” she trails off, jerking my attention from the abomination they want me to ingest.

“I, er…saved her from that place. I’d thought I was donating to a hospital, some pediatric foundation. My sister died when my mom delivered her prematurely. It was my way of contributing to other families in need.” The lie stumbles off my tongue but I’m not about to go to prison. I’ll die before that happens. Not with Baylee out there in danger. “Anyway, I took Baylee to my house. She told me all about how Gabe took her straight from her bedroom, to some cabin out in the middle of nowhere, raped her repeatedly, and then sold her to a sex ring called White Collar Trade that was hiding under the ruse of a pediatric fundraiser benefit.”