Undeniably His(60)
After about five hours, I wake up and take a warm, soothing shower. It feels like layers of toxic waste from trauma, shock, and stress are sloughing off my skin. I dry my rejuvenated body off, press into a new pair of jeans and an ocean-blue cotton tee, and grab a bite to eat.
I feel like a new person, and excitement bubbles through me as I think about seeing Kalin for the first time since the accident. I take the remote key to Kalin’s Audi S8 hanging on a hook in the garage, purr up the engine, and zoom off to the hospital.
Kalin’s area is still closed off to visitors. The nurse informs me that he is still recovering from the surgery and will be another hour or so.
I dial Lauren’s number and give her an update. They made plans to stay at a nearby hotel at the last minute. I insist they stay at the house where Kalin and I are staying, and provide her the access code that Kalin changes periodically.
“Thank you, Annabelle. We barely unpacked. It should be no problem. Have you seen the paper this morning?”
“No. Is the accident in the news?”
“Yes. It’s outrageous. They said he was driving recklessly. The good news is that we have Kalin back. The bad news is that Kalin is kind of a celebrity, and apparently a target now.”
“What?” I crinkle my brow. That can’t be right. “I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, dear.”
I head to the hospital lobby and grab the Southampton Gazette.
My heart sinks as I read the headlines. “Kalin Davis, CEO of TRAVIS Advertising, in Serious Condition after Losing Control of Vehicle. Reckless Driving Suspected in Crash.”
I dial Officer Collins’s number to get to the bottom of this.
“Officer Collins speaking.”
“Officer Collins, this is Annabelle Ried. Have you seen the headlines this morning regarding the accident?”
“No, Miss Ried. We try not to pay too much attention to them.”
“It makes Kalin look negligent and criminal. Drinking suspected in crash? Loses control of vehicle?”
“Miss Ried, the paper prints stories that will sell. They don’t generally print to inform, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“But this is libel. This is bullshit.”
“Miss Ried, he had no significant traces of alcohol in his bloodstream. We already tested his blood at the hospital. Mouthwash would register higher. As far as reckless driving, we quite frankly don’t know exactly what happened yet.”
“But I told you what happened.”
“We are still investigating, but it does appear that a large truck struck the vehicle.”
“Can the paper do this?”
“Unfortunately, yes. If the paper is threatened with a lawsuit, they can print a retraction buried in the back of the paper somewhere to satisfy a legal claim. It’s just how they work. They like to go after celebrities because they are generally easier targets and they sell papers. This is the Hamptons. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel for them. I would not worry about it, Miss Ried. We’re gathering the evidence.”
“So they just pretty much fabricate a story because it sells more?”
“Rather frequently, yes. Facts and fiction often blur together into a story.”
I sigh. “Have you received any information on the driver?”
“No, we haven’t. We’re still investigating, but with no witnesses and no license number, this will be a tough nut to crack.”
“Officer Collins, this was attempted murder. I would hope that your department can actually bring someone in over this.”
“Yes, Miss Ried. I understand your frustration. But we only have so much to work with.”
“This is about arresting the person responsible for trying to kill us,” I huff.
“We are doing our best, Miss Ried.”
I shake my head in disgust and click the phone off. “Un-freaking-believable,” I mutter. I toss the phone into my handbag. My irritation subsides as I think about seeing Kalin. My heart is racing with excitement and happiness. I know he’s going to be okay now, and I feel like I am soaring.
Lauren and Peter meet me at the hospital after unpacking at the Southampton home.
Dr. Brandt meets with us in the waiting area. “He is recovering without any complications, which is very good news considering the high risks of the procedure. He’s waiting to see you.” He leads us into Kalin’s room, and we follow him into the hall. My palms are sweating as we enter the room.
Kalin’s eyes are partially open. A tube inserted into his left side runs from under the large bandage to a collection system with three chambers measuring fluids and pressure diagnostics. Kalin gives me a weak smile under his oxygen mask, and moves his hand toward me. I take his hand and he squeezes it.