Page 39 of Taken from Her (Phoenix Ridge Police Department #4)

T he hospital bed felt foreign beneath Lavender's body, too firm and clinical after years of sleeping on a houseboat that moved with the tides.

Antiseptic scents couldn't quite mask the lingering salt air that clung to her hair, and the steady beep of monitoring equipment provided its own kind of rhythmic ambience where she was used to water lapping against the hull.

But Diana's hand in hers anchored her to something real.

"How are you feeling?" Dr. Samira Hassan asked, adjusting the bedside lamp to cast softer light across the private room. The harsh fluorescents had been turned off at Diana's quiet request, creating an atmosphere more conducive to healing than clinical observation.

"Tired," Lavender said, which was true but incomplete. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion that went deeper than physical fatigue, the kind of bone-deep weariness that came from hours of controlled fear followed by overwhelming relief.

Diana's thumb moved across her knuckles, a steady rhythm that counteracted the electronic beeping. She'd changed out of her work gear into civilian clothes someone had brought from her apartment, but her shoulders still carried tension. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.

"The blood work came back normal," Dr. Hassan continued, consulting her tablet. "Mild dehydration that we've already addressed and no signs of physical trauma beyond some minor bruising on your wrists. Remarkably, you're in excellent condition considering what you've been through."

Lavender glanced at the bandages covering rope burns she'd barely felt during captivity. Adrenaline had muted everything except the need to stay alert, to leave clues Diana would understand, to survive until rescue arrived.

"When can she go home?" Diana asked.

"I'd like to keep her for observation until morning, but if everything remains stable, we’ll discharge her around 8 a.m." Dr. Hassan's expression softened. "You're welcome to stay, Chief Marten. I understand this is your partner."

The word hung in the air between them. Partner. Not colleague or consultant or community liaison, but the simple truth they'd been building toward since Diana first walked through the café's purple door.

"Yes," Diana said without hesitation. "She is."

Something tight in Lavender's chest loosened. After weeks of careful boundaries and professional distance, Diana had claimed their relationship in front of medical staff, hospital administration, and anyone else who might ask. No equivocation, no deflection.

Dr. Hassan made notes on her tablet. "I'll have a cot brought in. Hospital policy allows overnight stays for immediate family, but we can make an exception."

After the doctor left, silence settled between them broken only by distant hospital sounds.

Diana's hand remained steady in hers, but Lavender could feel tremors beneath the surface.

The woman who'd coordinated two rescue operations on the same day was finally allowing herself to feel the fear she'd suppressed during the crises.

"So, you found my message," Lavender said, still warm from the knowledge Diana had interpreted her clues.

Diana's voice carried exhaustion layered over relief. "I've never been so grateful for someone's intelligence in my life."

"I knew you'd understand. Even if—" Lavender stopped, unwilling to voice the alternative outcome they'd both been thinking about.

"Even if what?"

"Even if I didn't make it out, I knew you'd understand what I was trying to tell you."

Diana's hand tightened around hers. "Don't. We're not talking about that scenario."

But Lavender needed to say it and process what had driven her to leave coded messages instead of hoping rescue would simply arrive. "I wasn't sure I'd see you again. And the thought that you might not know how much?—"

"Lavender." Diana shifted in her chair, moving closer to the bed. "You're here. We're here. That's what matters."

"I keep thinking about what they wanted from me," Lavender said quietly. "To sabotage everything we'd built together. Stop cooperating with the investigation and close the café."

Diana's jaw tightened. "They understood exactly how to hurt me by targeting you."

"But it didn't work." Lavender studied Diana's face, seeing exhaustion but also something deeper. "You didn't compromise the operation to save me faster. You didn't let your personal feelings for me override your professional judgment."

"I wanted to." Diana's honesty was raw. "Every instinct told me to abandon everything else and come after you immediately. But you left me a message that required thought and strategy, not just reacting on impulse."

"And that's why it worked. Because you trusted our partnership enough to decode what I was telling you instead of just charging ahead." Lavender squeezed Diana's hand. "We really do make each other better. What about the community?”

"Celebrating. Georgia's organizing some kind of feast at the café for when you're ready. Half of Phoenix Ridge is in the waiting room right now."

Lavender felt tears threaten for the first time since her rescue. Not from fear or relief, but from the overwhelming recognition that she'd been missed and that her absence had created a hole in the community she'd spent fifteen years building.

"I want to see them," she said.

"Later. When you've rested and processed this." Diana stood, leaning over to brush silver hair back from Lavender's forehead. The gesture was both tender and possessive. "Right now, you need to heal."

"I need you."

The admission surprised them both with its simplicity. Not complex emotional processing or trauma counseling or community integration, just the basic truth that Diana's presence made everything else manageable.

Diana kicked off her shoes and carefully settled onto the narrow hospital bed, avoiding IV lines and monitoring wires. Lavender shifted to make room, their bodies fitting against each other.

"Better?" Diana asked, her arm sliding around Lavender's shoulders.

"Much." Lavender closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Diana's soap beneath the hospital antiseptic. "How long before someone comes to check on us?"

"Nurses come in every hour, but Dr. Hassan said they'd be discreet." Diana's hand found hers again. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

For the first time in eighteen hours, Lavender felt completely safe. Not just protected by hospital security or police presence, but held by someone who'd moved heaven and earth to bring her home. The electronic beeping faded into background noise as exhaustion finally claimed her.

Diana's steady breathing and warm presence followed her into a dreamless sleep.

Lavender woke to the sound of muffled voices beyond her hospital room door.

Not the clinical conversations of medical staff, but the warm cadence of people who knew each other well.

Someone was crying softly. Someone else was laughing.

The rise and fall of conversation carried the unmistakable rhythm of a community gathering.

Diana stirred beside her, blinking awake with the immediate alertness that came from years of emergency calls. "What time is it?"

"Eight-thirty." Lavender checked the wall clock, surprised she'd slept four hours. The monitoring equipment continued its steady beeping, but her body felt more solid, less disconnected from itself.

A gentle knock interrupted them. Dr. Hassan peered around the door, her expression pleased. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Better." Lavender sat up carefully, testing her equilibrium. The world remained steady. "Ready for visitors?"

"Actually, that's what I wanted to discuss.

" Dr. Hassan stepped into the room, tablet in hand.

"There are quite a few people in the waiting area.

Georgia Darricott brought coffee for the nursing staff.

Corinne Vernalis has been coordinating something that looks suspiciously like a meal delivery service.

And I believe someone set up a card table for what might be an impromptu community meeting. "

Diana laughed, the sound carrying genuine affection. "Sounds about right. Lavender's people don't wait for permission to take care of each other."

"Should I allow visitors? Small groups, brief visits?"

Lavender felt her energy returning at the thought of seeing familiar faces. The isolation of captivity had been manageable because she'd known rescue was coming, but the idea of reconnecting with her chosen family made her chest warm with anticipation.

"Please. But maybe warn them I'm still processing everything."

Dr. Hassan made notes on her tablet. "I'll coordinate with the nursing staff. No more than three people at a time, fifteen-minute visits to start."

After she left, Diana helped Lavender sit up fully and adjust the hospital gown to something approaching dignity. "Ready for the Georgia Darricott experience?"

"Is anyone ever ready for that?"

The first visitors arrived five minutes later: Georgia herself, followed by Sam Moscroft and Elle Kearsley. They entered with the careful energy of people balancing overwhelming relief with respect for recovery space.

"Well," Georgia said, settling into the bedside chair with her usual authority, "you look remarkably good for someone who's had such an adventure."

"Adventure." Lavender shook her head. "Only you would call kidnapping an adventure."

"The alternative terminology is less appealing." Georgia's sharp eyes studied Lavender's face, cataloging signs of trauma with the precision of someone who'd seen community members weather various crises. "How are you really?"

The question carried weight beyond polite inquiry. Georgia was asking as a community elder, as someone who'd watched Lavender build the café into Phoenix Ridge's emotional center, as the person who'd probably organize recovery support whether Lavender wanted it or not.

"Tired. Grateful. Processing." Lavender looked between her visitors. "How's everyone else handling this?"