Page 77 of It's One of Us
“I don’t know. But it’s only a matter of time before someone sees that sketch and recognizes him. Maybe we need to go to the police.”
“Oh my God,” Scarlett mutters. “This isn’t happening. Try him again.”
Darby calls, again. No answer, again.
She stashes her phone in her pocket. “All right. Let’s go back home. We can discuss what we should do when we get there.”
They are on the outskirts of Nashville when her phone rings. Hope flares—Peyton, please be Peyton—but she doesn’t recognize the number. The car’s system picks up the call, and Darby reaches over and presses the phone button on the steering wheel.
“This is Darby Flynn,” she says.
“Mrs. Flynn? My name’s Detective Osley. I’d like to talk to you about your son.”
32
THE WIFE
Olivia wakes to the sound of beeping, and the heady, unwelcome stench of lilies. It takes her a few moments to piece her world back together.
IV. Bright light. People bustling about. Hospital.
Her throat is sore.
A quick heartbeat of elation. The procedure is over. Her hands go to her stomach, caress the flat planes.
As of this moment, she is officially pregnant. Of course they must wait for the test results, but she can already tell, can already feel them inside her. Her babies. The doctors were thrilled; they had several excellent, healthy embryos to implant, and two possibles that were still being analyzed as she was put under. Here she is, with them inside her.
Amazing, even with the haze of the leftover medication they gave her to help her relax while they did the transfer, how quickly she is attuned to them. They are her, and they are apart, floating in their safe, happy home.
“Hello,” she whispers. “I hope we get to meet one day soon.”
“Oh, finally. You’re awake.” Park takes her hand. “I’ve been so worried.”
“It went well?” she asks. “The babies are okay? How many did they put in?”
He seems to be struggling for composure, and her heart sinks. Did it not work? But she can feel them.
“Honey, you’re confused. We’re not at the clinic. We’re at St. Thomas. You had a car accident. You’ve just come out of surgery.”
But she can feel them... Nothing makes sense.
She struggles to sit up, is forced back by a searing pain in her shoulder. Her arm is strapped to her side. Park gentles her back down as if she’s a spooked horse.
“No, no, you need to stay lying down until the nurse comes.”
The pain clears her head a bit. “Oh God, that hurts. What’s happened?”
“You hit a deer. The antlers impaled you. It’s a miracle, a few inches lower... Your collarbone was broken, badly. The doctors pinned it together, removed some pieces of shattered antler. Do you remember?”
A flash of white, an eerie screech, the impact. The rolling black eye. The blood.
The searing physical pain is replaced with a deeper, primal soreness. Blood, and cramping. Her heart, broken.
“I lost the baby.”
“That was earlier. Not because of the accident.”
“Oh, Park.” Her voice is thick with tears and leftover anesthesia. She is chilled, and begins to shake, the movement jarring her body. Park pulls up the blankets and clings to her good hand.
