Page 27

27

JACOB

Bursting through the swing doors of the emergency room, our legs can’t carry us fast enough to the reception area. Thankfully, we weren’t greeted by a barrage of media and news reporters. They clearly haven’t caught wind of the update on Skye’s status yet.

For that, I am grateful.

Out of breath, Skye’s mom pants, “My name is Rhona McNairn. I believe my daughter was brought here.”

The receptionist looks at us with wide eyes.

She knows.

Rhona’s eyes roam the busy waiting room. Chewing her mouth, she nervously drums her fingers against the wooden reception desk.

“The doctor wants to speak to you.” The receptionist picks up the phone, dials a number, informing whoever answers that we are here.

Hands linked behind my head, I’m wearing down the floor beneath my feet as I pace, when the doctor strides up the corridor.

Unspoken words between the doctor and receptionist, she nods with the raise of her brow over at us.

“Mr. and Mrs. McNairn? I’m Doctor Cunningham. Let’s go somewhere private.” He ushers them away.

“Jacob.” Rhona stops walking. “Come with us.” She beckons me with her hand.

Seth’s eyes soften as I move swiftly, eager to see my girl.

The doctor opens a private waiting room off to the side of the reception, where we all take a seat and wait for the impending update of Skye’s well-being.

“Is she okay? Can we see her?” Seth says quickly.

“Is she awake?” Rhona shoots out.

I want to know everything too, but I’m too anxious. I made the fatal mistake of searching online what happens when someone gets abducted .

Big mistake. Huge.

“Do I have your permission to share everything with Jacob here?” The doctor looks at me.

“Yes, he’s Skye’s boyfriend.” We’re far from that, but I love Rhona’s belief in us and I love how that sounds.

Seth takes his wife’s hand in his.

“Skye is much better than we expected. She’s dehydrated and on a saline drip. Her physical injuries are minimal and somewhat superficial. She has bruises from the shackles she was restrained with, both around her wrists and ankles.”

Shackles. Fuck.

Needing to move, I get up to pace the room while the doctor continues to share her injuries.

“Both her cheeks are very swollen and some bruising has begun to form under her eyes from where we think she’s been struck. She has no other physical injuries that we can see. She hasn’t really said much.” He pauses. “However, she did give her permission for us to carry out a sexual assault test.”

“What?” I stop pacing.

“We did it as a precaution. Skye was very heavily drugged for a lot of the time and she wanted us to check. Our initial examination shows no signs of forced sexual assault. The tests will tell us for certain. It really is a precaution. But it can take up to a month for the results.”

I fall into the chair behind me.

Rhona covers her mouth with her hand to hide her shock while Seth pulls her into his chest.

I wish Lincoln was here for support. I could do with him right now as my heart shatters into a million fragments.

“Can we see her?” Seth’s face is full of anxious hope.

“Yes. But only two at a time.”

“I’ll wait here. It’s fine. Go get your daughter.” I try putting on a reassuring smile.

“You can go in after us, Jacob,” Seth reassures me. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I will repay your father for the PI.”

“I won’t have it. Your happiness and her safety are the only things that matter. Go see your girl.”

Then I’m left in the room all alone.

I text Walter to ask if he can speed up the results of Skye’s sexual assault tests.

Instantly texting me back with a yes and that we can get the results within three days settles some of my anxiety. We just need a signature from Skye to release her test to the private laboratory, and Walter will do the rest.

Ten minutes later the door opens and in walks Miss Marple her fucking self.

“Detective Becket.” I’m more abrupt than I should be.

“I’ve spoken with Mr. and Mrs. McNairn and informed them we have a Mr. Jules Howard in custody. Skye’s parents wanted you to know, too.”

“I already know everything.”

Unable to look me in the eye, she says, “Look, Mr. Baxter?—”

“It’s Jacob, and I don’t need you to tell me how you found her, because you didn’t. I’ve already been sent a full report from the private investigator. The one I hired because you didn’t do your job,” I say, trying to remain calm.

Walter sent me a full report, along with body-cam footage for evidence. I never want to watch it.

I read the report on the way to the hospital, while Lincoln drove us here. None of us were in a fit state to get in behind the wheel.

Walter’s team of expert marksmen located Jules, only ten miles away from here in some creepy-ass cabin in the woods just outside Bayview.

Jules Howard, who also calls himself Silas, suffers from dissociative identity disorder and has been in and out of psychiatric facilities since he was a child.

Walter presumed that Jules stopped taking his medication, and no one had noticed his symptoms worsening.

The walls of his house were decorated with pictures of Skye. He’d been watching her for months.

The sooner he’s behind bars or back in the confines of a psychiatric facility, the better.

Sensing I don’t want to speak to her, Detective Becket turns around to walk out the door, but she stops. Looking back at me over her shoulder, she says, “I just wanted to thank you, Jacob, for all you did and for helping to capture him. I’m sorry if you feel like we failed you. However, I was following protocol.”

I scoff.

Once she leaves, I sit back in the uncomfortable chair, close my eyes and rest my head against the wall. I’m so tired.