“On the third floor of your house,” she went on. “The damage wasn’t extensive, but there was smoke.”
“Does this have something to do with Julia because I’m fucking losing patience?”
Liv nodded. “Julia’s condition was more severe than Margaret’s and Vicki’s. While she had a trace amount of the poison from the champagne in her system—”
“Trace,” I interrupted. “That isn’t much. Why was she worse? What was in it?”
“The compound. They’re still working on the exact makeup. It’s believed to be a homemade mixture.”
“Of what?” I asked.
“The theory is that Madison stashed the medications she was given at the facility. Without them she was clearer headed—or so she thought. That’s how she managed to be released without anyone’s knowledge. No one knew she’d stolen the medications, but now that’s what they believe she put in the champagne. She may have taken other drugs from the facility.”
“Julia? Why isn’t she here?” My temples pounded in double time and my eyes were growing tired. The water sloshed around my gut, producing cramps along with the ache. I tried to stay focused. “You just said her injuries were more severe, yet she didn’t have as much poison. What happened to her? Where is she?”
The door opened inward.
Neil entered, pushing a cart with a computer and other things. “Donovan, good, you’re still awake. We need to get some numbers. And” —he nodded toward the bed— “change your catheter.”
My gaze was glued to my sister. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Van, Julia’s gone.”
I gagged as the water I’d recently consumed made its way back up.
Julia
“You need to eat,” Mom said, staring at me from across the kitchen table as if I were a four-year-old child.
Pushing the chicken around the plate, my mind went to Northern Wisconsin, to Paula’s meals, and more importantly to Van. “I don’t understand why they won’t release information even to me.”
“You saw the news release,” Dad said. “It said Donovan was stable and asking for privacy.”
The water in my glass sloshed with my trembling hand as I brought the rim to my lips. In frustration, I used two hands. Keeping the glass steady, I took a drink.
I had read the news release—roughly one hundred times. The words were burned into my mind for the rest of time. Donovan Sherman shot. One tabloid had even labeled it a ‘love triangle.’
“He could call you,” Mom added.
Could he?
I didn’t know.
Along with the sparse information from the news release, I’d also been in contact with Michael and Albert as well as Margaret and Paula. They all told me the same thing. They weren’t getting any information either. When they did, they’d call me. I probably checked my phone a hundred times a day.
I looked up, meeting my mother’s stare. “I’m going back to Ashland.”
Her lips pursed as she shook her head. “Hmm.”
“Say it, Mother.”
“It’s time to face the truth, Julia. If Donovan wanted you to know his status, he would tell you.” She lifted her eyebrows. “He would contact you. He wouldn’t have locked you out. Don’t you think?”
I didn’t know what to think.
My thoughts for the last four days had been all over the place.
When I’d awakened, I was in the hospital, Loyola University Hospital in Chicago. My transport back to Chicago had taken place while I was still unconscious, without my knowledge or consent. Not surprisingly, my parents had stepped in upon learning my fate. Their first response was to initiate a restraining order against Van. Thankfully, I’d awakened before that was finalized.