The only way?
I open my mouth to ask when I’m interrupted by a short knock on our door.
“That’s probably the doctor checking in. We’re gonna have to cut this call short. We’ll circle back to you once Ben is here.”
Mina nods before putting the phone in front of our son and we say goodbye to our baby boy who’s sucking on a yellow block, his eyes shining with happiness.
Noah ends the call, and then gets off the bed just as a man in blue scrubs and a lab coat walks in.
“Hey, Doc.” Noah greets the man who introduces himself to me before rechecking my vitals and doing the whole song and dance the nurse just did.
I hate hospitals.
I cannot wait to get out of here.
A week.They expect me to stay here for at least a week.
The doctor says something about the bullet missing vital organs but hitting my shoulder muscles so he wants to monitor me some more, just to make sure everything is working as it should. They also need to determine whether or not I will need therapy on my shoulder.
And I think I heard something about a psychiatrist coming to check on my mental health?
Now, Noah and Ben are telling me that the DEA and FBI want to get my statement to confirm my innocence in the crimes my estranged father committed, including my involvement with the injuries Penelope had sustained during our abduction.
Why do I have to prove I was acting out of self defense when I accidentally shot my stepsister?
I was the one who was abducted.
Not to mention the fact that it was my father who shot me.
With a trembling hand, I rub my forehead. A dull throb has taken up residence behind my eyelids and even with all the pain meds they’re pumping into me, this ticking pain won’t stop.
Ben finally shuts the folder in his hands. He’s spent the last hour prepping me for questioning. He’s filled me in on everything that happened when Noah and I were abducted and while I was unconscious.
Apparently, Patricia and Villegas have both lawyered up.
Penelope is currently in the same hospital, being treated for gunshot wounds.
Despite Ben’s best efforts, he was unable to find any documentation or evidence or even any money trail they could use to charge Penelope.
All they had to go on were statements from Noah and I, witnesses to my father admitting to her involvement. Apparently they had nothing else that would hold up in court.
My father was anything but sloppy. He was thorough, and despite his insistence on not caring about Penelope, the years he spent thinking she was his daughter had softened him up. He protected her even in the afterlife.
Patricia, however, ended up with the most charges against her.
Vincent Santos made sure his wife paid for her betrayal. He made sure she was in everything he was. If he went down, she went down with him. The investigation was merely a formality at this point, and she’ll be spending the rest of her life in an orange jumpsuit.
The good news is Ben found deposits made from my father and Aunt Patty’s joint offshore accounts to several federal agents and politicians, including Director Villegas.
That traitor will rot in prison.
Bad news is, Penelope is clean as a whistle, so as far the FBI are concerned. Given the lack of evidence, she was as much of a victim in this as I am. She could walk as soon as she gets discharged from the hospital.
And that’s where I come in.
The only thing they can pin on her is attempted murder, when she tried to kill me. Both times. Ben was able to trace the initial text message to a number that once belonged to her, Which is
what the feds were waiting on while I was unconscious.