CrissCross (Crossroads Book 1) Page 13

  “Where’s Donald?”

  She winced. “He won’t be coming,” she said flatly.

  Chance moved to stand right beside the bed and her unencumbered hand fluttered as if she would reach to take his. She didn’t and his didn’t close the gap either. “Can you tell me exactly what happened that got you here by ambulance?”

  To his obvious horror, she let the tears come. “I was out all day because Donald had arranged a spa day for me. When I got home, I found my clothes all packed up on the front porch and he met me at the door . . . told me he’d changed the locks and he needed me out . . . that he had some other woman moving in and that they’re expecting a child. That’s when I realized his spa day gift was a ploy to get me out of the house so he could pack me up and move her in.” Chance let out a vicious curse, but she kept going. “I collapsed right there on the front lawn. I just ca-can’t believe it. I never saw it coming.”

  Chance cursed again and bit out, “Seriously, Mom? You never saw any sign of this?”

  “W-well, now . . . l-looking back . . . there might be some signs, bu—”

  “What about the heart attack? How did that come on?”

  “Right in the middle of our argument, I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I literally couldn’t get my breath or talk or anything until I got so dizzy I passed out. I guess he called the ambulance. I finally was able to get my breath after I’d been here awhile. I’m still very dizzy and have a terrible headache. I’m sure the whole situation brought on a heart attack,” she said plaintively.

  The three of them were startled when the curtain jerked back and a dark complexioned middle-aged man in a white coat strolled in with a female nurse following. Chance stepped out of the way and crowded into a corner of the small curtained off space with Jimi. He stared down at her with concerned eyes.

  Jimi took his hand and squeezed before leaning in, tipping up on her toes, and murmuring softly. “She’s going to be okay. I don’t think it’s a heart attack, honey. Sounds like a panic attack.”

  “What?” he whispered, his eyes widening in surprise.

  “Anxiety attack,” she stressed.

  He nodded and some of the worry faded from his eyes.

  They turned their attention to the doctor who had opened his laptop and pulled up her test results. He glanced over at Chance who introduced himself.

  “I’m her son, Chance Loughlin. Do you need us to wait outside?”

  When the doctor looked questioningly at his patient, she shook her head. “No, Chance . . . won’t you please stay?” Her gaze took in Jimi as well and she nodded for her to stay too.

  “I’m Dr. Khenazi,” he said, shaking Chance’s hand. He turned, sat himself on a wheeled stool and rolled it close to Suzanne’s bedside. “Your test results look good, Mrs. Reynolds. The x-rays show no enlargement of the heart, both the electrocardiogram and the echocardiogram—while showing a slightly elevated heart rate—are still in the normal range. Your blood work revealed that your enzymes and proteins are all in the normal range as well. I believe we’re safe in saying that you have not had a heart attack.”

  “Bu-but,” she sputtered. “Something has happened to me, and I’m sure—”

  “I think what you’ve experienced is an anxiety attack,” he soothed.

  This seemed to anger her. “Of course, I didn’t have a panic attack. I’ve never had a panic attack in my life, and I was not hysterical. I couldn’t breathe and it felt like I was literally dying,” she ranted as she struggled to sit up.

  “Mom, calm down,” Chance spoke up.

  She looked at him for back up. “Did you hear him? How dare he say I’m just a crazy and hysterica—”

  “That’s not what he’s saying,” her son said.

  “Mrs. Reynolds,” Dr. Khenazi continued. “It’s not at all uncommon. The feeling that you can’t get a breath and that you are going to die is a usual symptom of an anxiety attack. These attacks happen to all sorts of people and it doesn’t mean you’re crazy or hysterical.”

  Suzanne’s eyes darted around the space looking for an ally among everyone standing around staring at her.

  Jimi spoke up, “I’ve had panic attacks, Mrs. Reynolds, and I don’t believe I’m crazy. It happens to a lot of people.”

  Chance shot Jimi a slightly surprised look before turning back to his mother. “Mom, just settle down. Having anxiety doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with y—”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” she snapped.

  His face hardened as he stepped forward. “Really?” he asked coldly—even as he tried to call up patience. “Why is it easy for me to say, Mom?”

  She threw her free arm out toward him. “Because you’re a big, strong fit man. You’ve never had to deal with being unsure and scar—”

  “Are you serious?” he scoffed.

  His mother doubled down. “Male doctors diagnose women as having emotional disorders when they don’t want to deal with them or what’s going on with them. You’re a man. I’m sure no one’s ever trivialized your medical issues this way.”

  Chance crossed his arms over his wide chest. “I’ll share my VA medical records with you sometime. You think I’m too big and strong to deal with PTSD and anxiety disorders? Do you even know what I did in the Navy for almost ten years, Mom?”

  “Of course I do, Chance,” she said quietly, “but, you were mentally strong enough to make it through BUD/S, so I’m sure that—”

  “Having the strength to get through BUD/S and getting into the SEAL teams has nothing to do with it. PTSD has to do with intense experiences someone has gone through. They don’t happen often, but I do deal with panic attacks occasionally.”

  “Why have we never talked about your PTSD before?” Suzanne asked—stunned. “You never even mentioned you had an issue, so I didn’t think there was anything to be worried about where you’re concerned.”

  He sighed and muttered, “Yeah, I wonder why.” He looked around at the faces watching their exchange. “It’s not that severe with me. I don’t deal with depression or anything. It’s just that every so often the anxiety rears its ugly head. Sometimes all it takes is a sudden loud noise, and sometimes dreams trigger it. But, that’s something we can talk about another time. The issue right now is you. You’re not above having a severe anxiety attack. Doesn’t mean it will happen again and it doesn’t mean it won’t. You just have to learn how to deal with it if it does.”

  She sat there watching him closely and sadness came over her face. She didn’t say anything more about it though, so Chance looked to the doctor.

  Dr. Khenazi regained control of the conversation now that his patient had calmed down. “Mrs. Reynolds, there are things you can do to ground yourself if this happens again. I’m going to refer you back to your primary care physician to learn more about that. If you and Dr. . . .” he paused to look up her doctor’s name, “Hawkins think you’d benefit from more cardiac testing, he can set up a Holter monitor test, and/or a stress test.”

  The doctor went on to give her instructions and a prescription for a low dosage anxiety medication, as well as a pill for her to take that night for sleep. Suzanne signed herself out and —because she was still lightheaded and headachy—Jimi offered to help her get dressed.

  Afterward, it was decided that Chance would take her home with him to sleep at his place. Jimi assumed he probably wasn’t happy about it because their relationship was so strained, but she was proud of him for doing it. He told his mom she could have his bed and he’d take the couch.

  His mother would eventually need to begin making a lot of decisions but, for tonight, she just needed rest. Tomorrow she could hopefully start regaining her bearings.

  As many divorces as she had gone through—and some had been pretty nasty—none had started this ugly. While the three of them drove across town toward the Crosswinds Apartments, Jimi sat in the Charger’s small backseat and felt sorry for Suzanne. No wonder she’d flipped out with a severe panic attack after such cruel tre
atment from her husband. She’d have to have been an ice queen not to.

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  As bad luck and worse timing would have it, they pulled up to the apartment building’s lot to find a chaotic scene. Several police cars were parked willy-nilly with blue and red lights flashing. Jimi’s heart almost stopped, but after scanning the scene she realized there were no ambulances or coroner vehicles present. Hopefully, that meant all of the residents were okay.

  Chance pulled to a stop when an officer waved him down. After producing his ID, proving he lived at that address, they were allowed into the lot to park.

  Suzanne was very alarmed, and that was the last thing any of them needed after what she’d been through earlier that evening. “Oh, my goodness, Chance,” she exclaimed. “Is this a usual occurrence? I knew it was a bad idea for you to be living here.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Jimi volunteered, as she watched two people—appearing to be forensics techs—carrying large square cases toward the entrance, “but, I haven’t lived here very long.”

  Suzanne had been surprised to learn that her son and his girlfriend lived in the same building, but it answered the question of how they had met.

  “I’ve never seen or heard of any incidents in the almost two years I’ve been here,” Chance commented. He opened his door. “Let’s see if they’re gonna let us in or not.”

  After pushing his seat forward so Jimi could climb out of the back, then collecting his mother from the front passenger seat, he escorted them to the door. They talked their way past an officer there, then headed toward the stairs—nodding at some of the residents milling around waiting to be interviewed by a couple of cops in the lower hallway. They still didn’t have an answer about what was going on when they reached their own floor.

  Once there Jimi realized the epicenter of the action was at Axel’s place. He stood outside his open door with an officer and he looked as ticked off as she had ever seen him. And she’d had occasion to see him pretty ticked off over the course of her life.

  Concerned, she walked directly to him. “Axel? What’s going on?”

  “Someone broke in and ransacked my pad,” her cousin bit out.

  “Ma’am?” the officer looked down at her, “do you live here too?”

  “No, I live over there,” she informed him, pointing back toward her door.

  “Did you happen to hear or see an—” he began.

  Axel broke in, “Nah, she was out of town with me. She just headed back several hours before I did.”

  The officer blinked down at her, his eyes running over her from the top of her head to her boots. It was clear he had the wrong idea. “You were at the bike rally?” he asked doubtfully.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “With him?” the cop jerked a thumb toward Axel.

  “C’mon, man,” Axel drawled. “She’s my cousin. The MC is a family thing. Her dad—my uncle—is a member of the Vagabonds too.”

  Jimi turned at the sound of a sucked in breath. Suzanne was looking at her as if she had two heads. Great. Her new boyfriend (she guessed, since Chance had referred to them that way at the hospital) had a mother who already disapproved. Story of her life. She redirected her attention back to her cousin while the cop steered things back on track.

  “Who lives there?” he pointed at Chance’s door with his pen.

  “That would be me,” Chance volunteered.

  Officer Barlow looked at Suzanne. “You live in the building too?”

  “No, I’m just staying with my son tonight.”

  Barlow addressed Chance, “You in for the night? We need to interview you about anything you may have seen or heard around here since Friday afternoon when Mr. Alexander left town.”

  “Sure,” Chance agreed. “I can’t think of anything, but I’m happy to talk to you.” He took Suzanne’s elbow and said, “I’ll get you settled in and call River. He can run by to pick up the stuff off your front porch and bring it over since I won’t be able to get away now. Okay?”

  “Yes, Chance. But if you or River can’t go over there, don’t worry about it.”

  “No, I don’t trust Donald, so we need to pick up what we can as soon as possible . . . especially if he’s leaving it sitting outside. If the officers won’t let River in here with it, he can take it to his place and we’ll get it tomorrow after the CPD has released the building.”

  Jimi overheard all of this, but was focused on Axel. “What happened, cuz?”

  “I got home a couple hours ago, opened the door and walked into that.”

  She leaned forward to peek inside. The place was trashed . . . not that it looked all that great on a regular day. The shelves were cleared, the contents dumped on the floor. She could see his TV was gone.

  “What all did they take?”

  “I just walked through with Officer Barlow and his partner. They got the TV, game systems, cleaned out my liquor cabinet and the beer out of the ‘fridge—”

  “Sounds like kids to me,” Chance volunteered.

  “Yep,” Axel agreed. “They also found my stash of cash—over four hundred dollars—taped under a drawer in my bedroom. And—this is where it gets scary—they pried the pistol safe off the wall behind my bed and made off with my G19.”

  Jimi heard Chance let out a long low whistle. “Well, that’s not good,” he commented in a definite understatement.

  “No, it’s not,” the officer verified. “We have the serial number and registration information, so if it turns up we’ll let you know.”

  Axel snorted, “That serial number won’t be on it for long.”

  Jimi looked back inside and saw a woman dusting for fingerprints. “How long before you can get back into your apartment?”

  “Hours probably,” Officer Barlow answered for him. “Even after we release it, it’s gonna be a mess.”

  “You wanna stay with me tonight?” Jimi asked her cousin.

  “Well, Mrs. Wilson offered me her guest room but—after that time I slept there because my friends got stranded in the blizzard last winter and I ran out of space—I know how hard her mattresses are—like sleeping on a frickin’ ironing board. I graciously declined.”

  “Well, you can take my sofa bed, but it’s probably not much better.”

  “It’ll be great. Thanks, cuz,” he answered. “You go on. I’ll be over in a little while.”

  “Okay. Tomorrow is a short workday for me anyway. Maybe I can take it off and help you clean up in the morning.”

  She, Chance and his mother wandered off toward their respective destinations.

  After he let Suzanne in, Chance approached Jimi at her door and said in a very low voice. “I wanna hear more about this anxiety disorder.”

  “It’s nothing,” she demurred.

  “PTSD?”

  “A little bullying when I was young,” she said waving it off. “It happens.” She reached up to lay her hand against his cheek. “I wanna hear more about yours too.”

  “We’ll talk.”

  “I can’t say I look forward to that particular conversation, but I’m always happy to talk with you, honey,” she said tenderly.

  He kissed her goodnight and turned toward his place, before her voice stopped him.

  “Hey!” she called softly. “I’m your girlfriend?” she teased.

  “Do I like you?” he quipped.

  “You say you do.”

  “Do I find you interesting?”

  “You say that too.”

  He simply smiled and shrugged before disappearing behind his door.

  CHAPTER 10

  By Monday afternoon Jimi felt like she had already put in more than a full day. She’d been up at the crack of dawn, hearing Axel moving around her kitchen. He wasn’t normally an early riser, but after walking into his burgled and ransacked apartment the evening before, he found he couldn’t rest. He was angry and he had a lot to deal with.

  Jimi had wal
ked into the kitchen where he was trying to figure out how to use her coffeemaker. Taking over, he’d slumped with overwhelmed exhaustion into a chair. She was the closest he had to a sister, so she did what a good sister would do. She cooked him breakfast, called the church’s office manager to let her know that she was sorry but she wouldn’t be in to work that morning, got dressed and accompanied Axel to his place.

  While they picked up the mess—salvaging what they could and lugging what was broken beyond repair to the dumpster—several neighbors showed up. Some—like Willy, Roscoe and Chance—came to help. Others came to gawk and commiserate before heading off to work.

  While Jimi was Axel’s honorary sister, Nova was the maternal influence in his life. Because his and Runner’s mother had deserted the family and not looked back, he’d always gotten all of his mothering from his Aunt Nova, even if it was unconventional mothering. No one was surprised that she sailed in by nine that morning and set about organizing everyone. Jimi and Axel already had things in hand, but no one challenged Nova when she got going.

  Axel’s rental insurance company sent over an adjuster mid-morning and Jimi helped him make a list of items that had either been stolen or destroyed. Several of the Vagabond brothers, along with their women, dropped by around that time and inadvertently intimidated the poor man. For that reason, she suspected he’d be fairly compensated without any problems or too much red tape.

  Jimi was disappointed that Chance had to leave after getting a call from River. Apparently their stepfather had only left out a few trash bags full of Suzanne’s clothing and it was certain he hadn’t packed up all of her things. The two brothers decided to meet up at a truck rental business, secure a truck and head over to confront Donald. If the man wasn’t home to let them in, they planned to head over to his office and make a scene.

  Chance had brushed a distracted kiss over Jimi’s mouth before heading out with fire in his eyes and a list that Suzanne had made of the things she wanted out of the house. He also took her keys so they would be able to bring her car to her.