She was still in there somewhere. She was still my friend. Sure, her emotions had taken over — and who could blame her because she was about to undergo the most terrifying transformation in the world? — but she was still Carly. She would come out of this on the other side and find her footing.
“You’ll be fine,” I reassured her softly. “You’ve been preparing for this for what feels like forever. You’re the most organized person I know. You’re going to win at childbirth ... and being a mom ... and whatever else you want to win at. Do you want to know why?”
She sniffled and wiped her nose with her blanket. “Why?”
“Because I don’t associate with losers.”
She chuckled. “I should’ve known you would bring this back to you.”
“That’s how I roll,” I grinned. “I’m being truthful, though. You’ve got this.”
“I hope so.” Her lower lip continued to quiver. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
“I think you’re setting unrealistic expectations for yourself. All parents screw up. It’s how they react after the screw-ups that matters. You’re going to be great at fixing the screw-ups.”
“I hope you’re right.” She sniffled again. “So, tell me about your day.”
I had to laugh. “Do you really want to hear about it? Aren’t you in pain?”
“They gave me an epidural. The kid could walk out on two feet at this point and I wouldn’t feel a thing.”
“Oh, well, that sounds awesome. As for my day ....” I hesitated and then decided to go for it. “Eliot says he is going to propose.” I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way, but once I did, I immediately felt better.
She straightened, spilling her ice chips. “What?”
I hopped to my feet to sweep up the ice chips. Going through labor was bad enough. Going through it with a wet blanket had to be the worst. I caught a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye and turned in its direction, assuming the girl standing there was a nurse.
“My friend spilled her ice chips. Can we get some more?”
She didn’t respond, her eyes dark and full of hate. She wasn’t wearing scrubs. She wore street clothes, including a heavy coat, and it was only then that I noticed she had a gun.
“Or we could just do without,” I said lamely. “Um ... sorry to bother you. You can go on your way and have a nice day.”
The girl — she looked too young to be considered a woman — practically snarled. “It’s far too late for that. I think it’s time we have a little talk, and if I don’t like what you have to say, I’ll kill you and your friend. How does that sound?”
It didn’t sound like my day was going to improve.
28 Twenty-Eight
“You’re Jessica.”
It wasn’t a question.
She leaned her head into the hallway, looked both ways, and then shut the door. “You almost look as if you’ve been expecting me.”
“Not quite.” My mouth was dry and when I risked a glance at Carly, I found her face flushed with fury, not fear. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I was at Ray’s house when you pulled up. I was waiting for Ray. I parked around the corner so I would know when he arrived — and then a million cop cars pulled up.”
“Macomb County doesn’t have close to a million cars,” I offered dumbly.
“You know what I mean,” she snapped.
Unfortunately, I did. “You killed your father. That was ... a ballsy move.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That was Ray. Why do you think I’m looking for him?”
“I’m guessing it has something to do with the Hypno.”
She looked out the window in the door and then took a step closer. “You screwed up my plan.”
“I’m pretty sure Ray mucked up your plan.”
“Because your nosiness spooked him. I told him to chill out, but did he listen? He panicked, and he killed my father in the process.”
I was still putting things together, and since I needed to buy time, it made sense to do it out loud. “Your father got you hooked on Hypno.”
“My father loved me.” Jessica sneered. “He absolutely adored me. He didn’t want to be separated from me.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t mention that,” I hedged, searching for a way to control her scarred psyche. “But now that you bring it up, I’m guessing you spent your childhood longing for a father who was never there.”
“He couldn’t be there. My mother kept him from me.”
Ruth was many things, but I had no doubt she went out of her way to get Jessica and Cal together as often as possible. She seemed to have good intentions, even if her follow-through was all kinds of terrible.
“Your father developed a drug problem when you were a kid,” I said, fighting to maintain a calm demeanor. This was hardly the first time I’d had a gun pulled on me. Heck, this wasn’t even the first time this year. I was up to five instances or so, which very well could be a record. That didn’t mean I wanted to push Jessica too hard. Two more notches on her belt would mean very little in the grand scheme. She was too far gone. “Your mother offered him help but he refused.”
“I see you’ve been talking to her.” Jessica shook her head. “She’ll say anything to make my father look bad.”
“Are you sure she was trying to make him look bad?”
“Of course. When I cried for him as a child, she said I couldn’t see him because he had things going on. Things! She never once told me the truth.”
“How could she?” I used my most practical tone. “How do you explain drug addiction to an eight-year-old?”
“My father wasn’t an addict. He held down a job and was a good worker. He just liked to cut loose and have a good time. Lord knows
