Page 153 of Imogen

“Because he believes mentioning it gives an excuse for what they did. And there is no excuse for the crimes they committed. Just like breaking up with a boy isn’t an excuse for him to chase you across the country to attack you.”

I fiddle with the tie holding my gown together and lower my head. “I never thought this would happen. I didn’t think Zach could do something like this.”

“No one ever does,” she whispers.

“None of it feels real. Even being here and seeing him in this condition, it still doesn’t help me make sense of it all. I know it happened. I was there. But a part of me feels discombobulated, like it’s all a mirage.”

“Life is a journey that doesn’t come with a map. We can overanalyse every little thing we do, worry over things that may never happen. But in the end, we need to find our own way. We can’t control other people’s paths. We can only grow stronger and become more resilient as we walk our own,” she begins softly. “What happened has knocked you off your path. You’re in shock. But everything will be okay now. I promise you. My boy is a fighter.”

I jerk at the door being opened, and I grimace when I find my nurse standing there.

I hold my good arm up since my other hurts like a bitch. “I know. I know. I should be resting, but I needed to see him.”

“Um, that’s not why I’m here. There are two policemen here to see you.”

She steps to the side to let them through. “Miss Smith, we would like you to come with us down the hall to answer some questions.”

“But I already told you everything,” I answer, biting my lip. “I don’t know anything else.”

He hooks his hands into his vest, his expression unmoving. “Still, we would like to talk to you again.”

My heart begins to race. It’s six thirty in the morning, which means they’ve come here because it can’t wait until a decent hour. I know the rules. Warrants come around three or four in the morning because it’s when you least expect it. And at this ungodly hour, it means they want to catch you when you aren’t fully with it. And I’m not. Aside from the nap I took earlier, with my mum running her fingers through my hair, I haven’t slept. It’s catching up with me, but being here is where I need to be. I don’t want Ben to wake up alone.

“You can talk to her here. She’s already overexerted herself by walking here to see her loved one,” Maria voices. “She should be sleeping.”

The taller officer pulls out his notebook. “Yesterday, you told our colleague that you didn’t know Mr Armstrong had planned to come to the lodge. Is that correct?”

My brows pinch together. “Yes. Like I told them, it was a surprise to see him there.”

“Miss Smith, we recovered Mr Armstrong’s phone. Is your email address ImogenSmith at outlook.com?”

I gulp, my hand clenching around Ben’s. “That’s correct.”

“Mr Armstrong received an email from you yesterday afternoon asking him to come to the lodge. In it you state you were scared of Mr Donovan, that you had to make up lies about a game being stolen, and that you were sorry.”

“Nonsense,” Maria hisses. “None of that is true.”

“We have the email. We’ve been caught up with the charges filed against Mr Armstrong.”

I let out the breath I was holding. My body begins to tremble, and I shake my head like it will give me clarity. “That isn’t true. I haven’t logged into my email address since we left. I haven’t had a reason to. You must be mistaken. You must be. I would never invite him. He wasn’t even invited before we broke up. He and my family do not get along.”

“He planted it.”

My head spins so fast, I become dizzy. I’ve been watching Ben for so long, pleading for him to wake so I can hear his voice, that it almost feels like a dream. He’s awake, his eyelids fluttering like he’s trying to focus.

“You’re awake,” I choke out. “Oh my god, you’re awake.”

His mum joins me. “Oh, blessed be. It is so good to see those beautiful eyes, and hear your voice.”

He’s really okay. I prayed. I hoped. I bargained. But the more time passed without him stirring or moving at all, the more I feared he would never wake up again.

He grips my hand with what little strength he has and turns to the policemen. “Zach… he planted it.”

The policeman lets go of his vest and moves further into the room. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

Ben wheezes, and the nurse begins to mess with the machines he’s hooked up to. “This should wait,” she declares.

“No, they need to know,” Ben heaves before turning to me. “Zach planned it. He broke into your home, hacked your account, and planted evidence.”