Vicki.
Julia.
I didn’t find her.
Madison.
Was there smoke?
“Liv,” I said her name tentatively.
“Yes?”
“Brooklyn?”
“She’s fine, Van. She’s in San Antonio with Mom and Dad.”
Our parents weren’t the best role models, but with the wound to my abdomen putting me out of the running, I’d say they ranked at least a notch higher than Madison. My temples continued to drum as I thought about Brooklyn. Wherever Madison was now, she wouldn’t be going back to Brooklyn.
In essence, Brooklyn lost her mother.
“Van?”
I tipped my head toward the cup and straw on the nearby table. If drinking, eating, and shitting would get me out of this place, I’d do it. “I’ll take some of that.” Besides, my mouth tasted like shit.
Standing, Liv retrieved the Styrofoam cup and came close. I reached for the cup with my right hand—the one not bound with tubes. As my fingers closed, the cup trembled.
“Fuck.”
Without a word as to my obvious weakness, Liv took the cup and brought the straw to my lips. The room-temperature, ordinary water tasted extraordinary—better than the finest wine. I continued to drink until she pulled it away.
“Neil said to take sips, not drink the whole cup.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t listening.” I laid my head back, trying to recall. “Here’s what I remember. Over a week ago, Phillip showed up in Chicago, played some bullshit, and pretended to be me. He fooled everyone but Julia. Once I had her back, I upped our security. We were minutes from our wedding when Lena called and told me Madison was no longer hospitalized—which I didn’t know she was until recently. I hurried to the house.” My eyes opened wide. “Margaret and Vicki…?”
Liv nodded as she returned the cup to the table and took her seat. “They’re fine. Help came in time. Their stomachs were pumped. And the good news was that the compound in the champagne wasn’t lethal.”
“Thank fuck.”
“There’s more, Van. What else do you recall?”
“Shouldn’t I be talking to a detective or something?”
My sister leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Your man Albert was able to give an eyewitness account.”
“That’s right,” I said, “he came down the stairs. Madison had a gun.” Ignoring the pain, I sat up straighter. “Now, where is Julia?”
As my question hung in the air, my pulse increased. I wondered if one of the machines at my side was reading that and recording the erratic rhythm for the doctors to evaluate.
“Do you care about Madison?” Liv asked, looking up at me through her lashes.
“Do I care?” I gave that more thought. “Considering she’s lost it, is like bat-shit crazy, and she’s the reason I’m here, no. The only thing I care about regarding her is Brooklyn. Other than her, at this moment, I don’t give a shit. I want to know about Julia.”
For a long pause, Liv’s lips came together, and she stared. Finally, she sat taller and spoke, “There was a fire.”
I had smelled smoke.
Repeating the word, I murmured, “Fire.”