5.
It took another two excruciating days for the doctors to allow me to leave the hospital, the Friday dragging slower than any day I had ever endured. Steph didn’t return the next day and I began to wonder whether I didn’t push her completely away with my outburst. But she was simply tied up with work and her own responsibilities. She came back in on the Saturday morning, dressed in casual attire, Judith’s hand held in her own. Jude was holding a bunch of flowers and handed them to me when they walked in. I thanked her and watched her run from the room, excitedly looking for a nurse to find a vase for them.
“How are you feeling?” Steph asked when we were alone.
“Much better, thanks. I’m sorry for my outburst, Steph. I shouldn’t have.” But she shook her head.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I can’t imagine what you went through. Any news when you can get out of here?” she asked.
“Saw the nurse this morning and she thinks the Doc may let me out today. Just have to wait for him to finish his rounds.” Jude came back in, carrying a large glass vase.
“The nurse asked if you can please refrain from breaking this one,” she said as she handed it to her mum. I laughed out loud, Steph giggling as she filled it with water from the sink.
6.
The Doctor came shortly after Steph and Judith had left, telling me that he needed to consult with another doctor early in the afternoon. He returned a little after 3, telling me I was free to go. I called for a nurse and asked her to contact Steph. She was about to leave the room, when Steph stepped into the room, pushing a wheel chair before her.
“Who’s that for?” I said, pointing at it.
“Hospital policy, Mr. Lawson,” the nurse said, and judging by her tone and steely eyes, I wasn’t going to win the argument.
Ten minutes later, I climbed out of the wheelchair and into the FX which was parked at the hospital entrance. She pushed the wheelchair back in through the doors then returned and climbed into the driver’s seat. We began driving, heading back towards Cider Hill.
Steph?” I asked as she drove. She looked across at me. “Could you take me to Tami’s?” I asked. She frowned a little, but nodded. I watched the scenery flow past the window as we drove along the road. I felt alone. Although we hadn’t been together for so many years, just knowing that she was in Cider Hill, knowing that she was there doing whatever she was doing, gave me some sort of comfort. I know we didn’t have the closest of relationships, but Tami and I had shared something unique and even though it was a nightmare, it had given us a bond that time nor distance could ever take away. Now that she was gone, I felt truly alone for the first time in twenty years.
7.
After dropping Jude to Mrs. Wong, Steph drove us back to the lane beside the Railway Hotel. I admit, I had butterflies as we pulled up in front of the flat. Tami’s home looked exactly the same. There was no sign of the horror that took place inside just a few days before. The only thing that was different was a small padlock that secured her front gate. I climbed out of the car as Steph parked by the kerb, gingerly trying to keep the pain in my chest to a minimum. Steph had the key to the padlock as she was the lead officer in the investigation and unlocked it for me so I wouldn’t need to jump the fence, a feat I knew to be near impossible with my injuries.
We walked to the door and she unlocked it, swinging it open. I was standing on the spot where I saw her for the final time. I looked at my feet and saw tiny spots of blood which the rain had failed to wash away, like eternal stains. I could feel the apprehension in my gut. Steph led the way inside and I could smell the dampness in the air. I looked around and took in her home. Steph headed for the hallway, probably checking out a back bedroom. I decided to have a look in the living room, the last place we sat and talked. I lowered myself on to the couch, sitting quietly and closing my eyes, trying desperately to feel her. I didn’t. I opened my eyes and scanned the room for anything that might give me a clue as to who had hurt her. The ceiling plaster had been removed, the exposed beams now staring at me in an almost menacing grin. My eyes fell on her bookshelf and I saw my book again, sitting amongst others up on the top shelf. I stood carefully and shuffled over, standing before the shelf for a moment, looking at the familiar black cover with my name on it. I reached for it, meaning to pull it out and flick through the pages, pages that she had no doubt read.
But just as my fingers brushed the spine of my book, the book sitting to its left suddenly highlighted itself to me, its words hitting me like the metal pipe did a few nights before. It was a book similar in thickness to mine, with a rich red spine. The name of the book was “Splitting Hairs” and the name of the author was Dr. Julius Levinson.
“Steph,” I called as I reached for it, pulling it out from between the others.
“Yeah?” she called back.
“Check this out.” I sensed her shuffling about then heard her footsteps coming down the hallway.
“What did you find?” she asked as she came into the room. I held the book out to her, her eyes growing wider as she read the name of the author. She opened the front
