Revenge
Chapter 52
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trisha was grateful that she'd made the decision to stop at the store on the way home last night despite how exhausted she was. She actually had an appetite this morning and was glad she didn't have to run down to the corner to get something to eat, taking the chance that the appetite was a fleeting thing.
She stood at the window as she sipped her coffee while she waited for her bagel to get done in the toaster, trying to decide whether she wanted cream cheese on it or just butter. Her eyes landed on a young woman pushing a baby carriage and she watched her walk down the street until she was out of sight. She absently put a hand on her stomach, still unable to believe that she was carrying a baby inside of her. "How exciting," she thought to herself, a wave of excitement rippling through her. "How terrifying," she voiced out loud as the toaster popped, revealing her bagel, toasted a golden brown. The wave of excitement had turned to fear in a matter of seconds. She'd spent much of the night fretting about how Maurice would react to the news - getting little or no sleep.
She thought he'd be happy, but what if he found out about Paul. She genuinely loved Maurice and was happy to be carrying a baby that had come from the love that they shared. But, Maurice was in love with who he thought she was. How would he feel if and when it came out who she actually was - the stepsister of the man that had held him hostage, tortured him, and almost killed him - the woman who had willingly gotten into a relationship with him in order to help her deranged stepbrother get his revenge.
She walked over to the toaster and took the bagel out. She looked at it for a moment and then turned to throw it in the garbage as her stomach rolled. She ran to the bathroom where she spent the next few minutes getting rid of the coffee she'd just put into her stomach. She decided as she sat on the cool bathroom floor that she needed a nice, warm shower to stop her shivering. She turned on the shower and climbed in, letting the warm water soak her and warm her. All the while she wished that Maurice were in the shower with her, warming her with his touch as the water flowed over both of them. She closed her eyes and felt his presence from the last time they'd showered together - it was right before he'd gone to work that day - the day that Paul had set his plan into motion.
She didn't know what he had planned - didn't want to know - so it was as much of a surprise to her as it was to everyone else when Maurice went missing. She closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail of that morning in the shower, the feel of his hands on her and the feel of her hands on him. She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers as they became one, with the water running over them. They didn't even feel the water start to run cold as they depleted the hot water in the water tank - not until they were done loving each other. Trisha felt tears spring to her eyes as she slowly lowered herself so that she was sitting in the tub, the water from the shower continuing to spray down on her, wondering if she'd ever be as happy as that day again.
She stayed in the tub until the water again began to run cold. Then, she slowly stood and turned off the shower. She stepped out and grabbed a towel from the linen cabinet alongside the sink and wrapped it around herself. She looked into the mirror and saw the tired face staring back at her - dark circles under her eyes and her recent weight loss beginning to show on her face.
She finished drying off and, with the towel still wrapped around her, she walked into the bedroom, falling onto the bed and pulling the comforter around her, her wet hair soaking into the pillow. She fell soundly asleep.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
"Well, good morning, Detective," said the doctor as he walked into the room. Bosco had been up for a couple of hours in anticipation of being able to go home. He felt remarkably well today. He still had the aches and pains, but the major pain from his surgery had disappeared. He was able to go into the bathroom and get cleaned up, using the razor that had been provided to get rid of his beard, revealing the cuts underneath from the punishment he withstood.
Now, he sat in the chair alongside his bed, waiting for the news that he could go home.
"Hey, Doc. How are you?" he said, putting his newspaper down.
"I'm good. And you look much better than a couple of days ago. Can you get up here so I can examine you?" the doctor said, motioning toward the bed.
Bosco slowly came to his feet and walked over to the bed unassisted, despite the nurse's hand on his arm in an attempt to help if he needed it. He laid back and the doctor raised his t-shirt he'd changed into after he cleaned up. Trisha had brought him some t-shirts and a couple pairs of sweats. The doctor examined Bosco's wounds, causing him to flinch slightly.
"Everything's healing nicely," he said, lowering Bosco's shirt and taking hold of his arm to check the range of motion of his shoulder, making him wince. "You'll need some therapy for that shoulder," the doctor told him as he checked the wound for infection.
After checking the other spots where he'd needed sutures, the doctor picked up his chart to check on his vitals. "No fever, no signs of infection. Well, I'd say that you're too well to be here," the doctor said. "You have someone you can stay with if we discharge you? I don't want you trying to do too much right away, so you'll need help."
"I'll be staying with my girlfriend at her place, Doc. We already talked about it. She's just waiting for me to call her and tell her I'm coming home," Bosco told him, anxious to get back home.
The doctor nodded and stood up. "Well, give her a call because you're wasting my time."
"Thanks," Bosco said and the two men shook hands.
"You were lucky. Very lucky from what I've heard and seen on the news. If you call my office to set up an appointment for about a week, we'll take those stitches out. Of course, if there are any problems before that, call or come into the ER right away," he instructed.
"Will do," Bosco agreed, reaching for the phone.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Trisha and Maurice were looking at each other, an awful look of hurt from her deception on his face. She thought she saw a tear in his eye, but then realized it was her own tears falling.
"Maurice. Please. I love you," she said to him, taking a step closer only to have him back away, a look of disgust on his face.
"No. Liar! You lied to me. I thought we had something special. I thought you were finally the one," he said, the hurt on his face intensifying.
"Bos. C'mon. I'll take you home. I'm sorry," Faith was saying behind him. Trisha looked past Maurice to see the anger on Faith's face.
"Faith, please. I love him. Don't take him away," she said, crying harder now.
"Maurice! No! Please!" she called after him, reaching out. She watched him pull the door shut behind him, leaving her standing in the middle of her living room - alone. She put her hand to her swollen stomach. Would he really let her raise this child alone?
She woke to the sound of the phone ringing. It must have rang at least five times, because the answering machine had picked it up. She heard the end of the message and then heard Maurice's voice.
"Hey! Sleepy head! Wake up. I'm sprung. Well, I guess you're either really sleeping hard or not home. If I don't hear from you in about a half hour, I'll give Faith a call to come get me and I'll see you at your place," he said as she listened to his cheerful voice.
She slowly sat up, wiping the fresh tears from her cheeks. She got up and put some clothes on, went back into the bathroom to fix her hair that had dried. She decided to bend over the sink and re-wash it to start from scratch.
Having gotten dressed and her hair dried and styled, she went to the phone and called Maurice's room.
"Hello," came the voice from the other end.
"Hello yourself. Sorry. I was in the shower when you called," she lied, putting a happy tone to her voice. "I'm on my way over to get you. That boy's father called Faith and she had him drop your car off here when it was done being fixed," she told him.
"My car..." he said, remembering about the damage. She laughed at the childlike sound of his voice.
"Your car is fine. I can't even tell that something happened to it. You can give it a kiss when I get there," she teased.
"Okay," he said, sounding embarrassed. "Drive carefully."
"Don't worry. I won't scratch it," she teased him some more.
"No. I meant for you to be careful," he said.
"I know. I'll see you in a little bit," she said, hanging up the phone and leaving her hand on it.
She picked up the phone again and called the morgue, remembering about the message that Maurice had given to her.
"Manhattan Morgue," answered the voice from the other end.
"Yes, is Amy working today? I'm returning her call," Trisha said into the phone.
"Sure. Can I tell her who's calling?" the voice asked.
"Um, yeah. Tell her it's Linda Watkins," she answered.
"Hold on a moment, please," the voice said and she was placed on hold listening to some old song she never remembered hearing before.
"Ms. Watkins, this is Amy. Thanks for calling me back. I just wanted to let you know that you could come and claim Mr. Peterson's body for burial if you still want to. The police are done with it, I mean him," Amy said.
"Thank you for calling. I'm not sure when I'll get there, but it will be in the next day or so. Is that okay? I have a sick friend that I'm taking care of right now and I can't leave him just yet," Trisha explained, trying to figure out how to handle having Paul buried.
"Sure. I'll just let the..., uh, the boss know the status," Amy said.
"Thanks again, Amy," Trisha said, hanging up the phone.
She went back into the bathroom and bedroom, collecting her laundry, deciding to put a fresh set of sheets on the bed for Maurice and throwing the clothes into the washer downstairs on her way out. She stopped on her way to the door with the laundry and dropped it by the door.
Suddenly thinking of an idea, she walked over to the phone book. She looked up a number and called a funeral home near the morgue. Speaking with the funeral director, she left instructions for Paul's body to be picked up from the morgue and transported to the funeral home. She gave him the same story she'd given the people at the morgue, explaining that she'd appreciate it if he kept everything as confidential as possible as, due to the circumstances surrounding Mr. Peterson's death, she didn't want the media attention from just trying to do something decent for a man who did her no harm. She'd be in to finalize the burial in a day or so. He asked her a couple of questions and she told him that there would be no calling hours and no funeral service. She just wanted him to have a decent burial - not put in some unmarked grave, the bill footed by the City.
The funeral director understood and agreed to the utmost confidence, something he told her he prided himself on. She thanked him, hung up and dialed Amy back to let her know that a funeral home would be coming to pick up the body - giving her a bogus funeral home name and hoping that the discrepancy wouldn't come up when the home actually came to pick up his body.
She went back and gathered up the laundry basket, along with her purse and the keys to Maurice's car. She stopped in the laundry and started the washer, then went outside to drive to the hospital to pick up Maurice, trying to put thoughts of her deceased stepbrother out of her mind and be cheerful when she saw Maurice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC...
Chapter 52
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trisha was grateful that she'd made the decision to stop at the store on the way home last night despite how exhausted she was. She actually had an appetite this morning and was glad she didn't have to run down to the corner to get something to eat, taking the chance that the appetite was a fleeting thing.
She stood at the window as she sipped her coffee while she waited for her bagel to get done in the toaster, trying to decide whether she wanted cream cheese on it or just butter. Her eyes landed on a young woman pushing a baby carriage and she watched her walk down the street until she was out of sight. She absently put a hand on her stomach, still unable to believe that she was carrying a baby inside of her. "How exciting," she thought to herself, a wave of excitement rippling through her. "How terrifying," she voiced out loud as the toaster popped, revealing her bagel, toasted a golden brown. The wave of excitement had turned to fear in a matter of seconds. She'd spent much of the night fretting about how Maurice would react to the news - getting little or no sleep.
She thought he'd be happy, but what if he found out about Paul. She genuinely loved Maurice and was happy to be carrying a baby that had come from the love that they shared. But, Maurice was in love with who he thought she was. How would he feel if and when it came out who she actually was - the stepsister of the man that had held him hostage, tortured him, and almost killed him - the woman who had willingly gotten into a relationship with him in order to help her deranged stepbrother get his revenge.
She walked over to the toaster and took the bagel out. She looked at it for a moment and then turned to throw it in the garbage as her stomach rolled. She ran to the bathroom where she spent the next few minutes getting rid of the coffee she'd just put into her stomach. She decided as she sat on the cool bathroom floor that she needed a nice, warm shower to stop her shivering. She turned on the shower and climbed in, letting the warm water soak her and warm her. All the while she wished that Maurice were in the shower with her, warming her with his touch as the water flowed over both of them. She closed her eyes and felt his presence from the last time they'd showered together - it was right before he'd gone to work that day - the day that Paul had set his plan into motion.
She didn't know what he had planned - didn't want to know - so it was as much of a surprise to her as it was to everyone else when Maurice went missing. She closed her eyes, trying to remember every detail of that morning in the shower, the feel of his hands on her and the feel of her hands on him. She remembered the feeling of his lips on hers as they became one, with the water running over them. They didn't even feel the water start to run cold as they depleted the hot water in the water tank - not until they were done loving each other. Trisha felt tears spring to her eyes as she slowly lowered herself so that she was sitting in the tub, the water from the shower continuing to spray down on her, wondering if she'd ever be as happy as that day again.
She stayed in the tub until the water again began to run cold. Then, she slowly stood and turned off the shower. She stepped out and grabbed a towel from the linen cabinet alongside the sink and wrapped it around herself. She looked into the mirror and saw the tired face staring back at her - dark circles under her eyes and her recent weight loss beginning to show on her face.
She finished drying off and, with the towel still wrapped around her, she walked into the bedroom, falling onto the bed and pulling the comforter around her, her wet hair soaking into the pillow. She fell soundly asleep.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
"Well, good morning, Detective," said the doctor as he walked into the room. Bosco had been up for a couple of hours in anticipation of being able to go home. He felt remarkably well today. He still had the aches and pains, but the major pain from his surgery had disappeared. He was able to go into the bathroom and get cleaned up, using the razor that had been provided to get rid of his beard, revealing the cuts underneath from the punishment he withstood.
Now, he sat in the chair alongside his bed, waiting for the news that he could go home.
"Hey, Doc. How are you?" he said, putting his newspaper down.
"I'm good. And you look much better than a couple of days ago. Can you get up here so I can examine you?" the doctor said, motioning toward the bed.
Bosco slowly came to his feet and walked over to the bed unassisted, despite the nurse's hand on his arm in an attempt to help if he needed it. He laid back and the doctor raised his t-shirt he'd changed into after he cleaned up. Trisha had brought him some t-shirts and a couple pairs of sweats. The doctor examined Bosco's wounds, causing him to flinch slightly.
"Everything's healing nicely," he said, lowering Bosco's shirt and taking hold of his arm to check the range of motion of his shoulder, making him wince. "You'll need some therapy for that shoulder," the doctor told him as he checked the wound for infection.
After checking the other spots where he'd needed sutures, the doctor picked up his chart to check on his vitals. "No fever, no signs of infection. Well, I'd say that you're too well to be here," the doctor said. "You have someone you can stay with if we discharge you? I don't want you trying to do too much right away, so you'll need help."
"I'll be staying with my girlfriend at her place, Doc. We already talked about it. She's just waiting for me to call her and tell her I'm coming home," Bosco told him, anxious to get back home.
The doctor nodded and stood up. "Well, give her a call because you're wasting my time."
"Thanks," Bosco said and the two men shook hands.
"You were lucky. Very lucky from what I've heard and seen on the news. If you call my office to set up an appointment for about a week, we'll take those stitches out. Of course, if there are any problems before that, call or come into the ER right away," he instructed.
"Will do," Bosco agreed, reaching for the phone.
*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Trisha and Maurice were looking at each other, an awful look of hurt from her deception on his face. She thought she saw a tear in his eye, but then realized it was her own tears falling.
"Maurice. Please. I love you," she said to him, taking a step closer only to have him back away, a look of disgust on his face.
"No. Liar! You lied to me. I thought we had something special. I thought you were finally the one," he said, the hurt on his face intensifying.
"Bos. C'mon. I'll take you home. I'm sorry," Faith was saying behind him. Trisha looked past Maurice to see the anger on Faith's face.
"Faith, please. I love him. Don't take him away," she said, crying harder now.
"Maurice! No! Please!" she called after him, reaching out. She watched him pull the door shut behind him, leaving her standing in the middle of her living room - alone. She put her hand to her swollen stomach. Would he really let her raise this child alone?
She woke to the sound of the phone ringing. It must have rang at least five times, because the answering machine had picked it up. She heard the end of the message and then heard Maurice's voice.
"Hey! Sleepy head! Wake up. I'm sprung. Well, I guess you're either really sleeping hard or not home. If I don't hear from you in about a half hour, I'll give Faith a call to come get me and I'll see you at your place," he said as she listened to his cheerful voice.
She slowly sat up, wiping the fresh tears from her cheeks. She got up and put some clothes on, went back into the bathroom to fix her hair that had dried. She decided to bend over the sink and re-wash it to start from scratch.
Having gotten dressed and her hair dried and styled, she went to the phone and called Maurice's room.
"Hello," came the voice from the other end.
"Hello yourself. Sorry. I was in the shower when you called," she lied, putting a happy tone to her voice. "I'm on my way over to get you. That boy's father called Faith and she had him drop your car off here when it was done being fixed," she told him.
"My car..." he said, remembering about the damage. She laughed at the childlike sound of his voice.
"Your car is fine. I can't even tell that something happened to it. You can give it a kiss when I get there," she teased.
"Okay," he said, sounding embarrassed. "Drive carefully."
"Don't worry. I won't scratch it," she teased him some more.
"No. I meant for you to be careful," he said.
"I know. I'll see you in a little bit," she said, hanging up the phone and leaving her hand on it.
She picked up the phone again and called the morgue, remembering about the message that Maurice had given to her.
"Manhattan Morgue," answered the voice from the other end.
"Yes, is Amy working today? I'm returning her call," Trisha said into the phone.
"Sure. Can I tell her who's calling?" the voice asked.
"Um, yeah. Tell her it's Linda Watkins," she answered.
"Hold on a moment, please," the voice said and she was placed on hold listening to some old song she never remembered hearing before.
"Ms. Watkins, this is Amy. Thanks for calling me back. I just wanted to let you know that you could come and claim Mr. Peterson's body for burial if you still want to. The police are done with it, I mean him," Amy said.
"Thank you for calling. I'm not sure when I'll get there, but it will be in the next day or so. Is that okay? I have a sick friend that I'm taking care of right now and I can't leave him just yet," Trisha explained, trying to figure out how to handle having Paul buried.
"Sure. I'll just let the..., uh, the boss know the status," Amy said.
"Thanks again, Amy," Trisha said, hanging up the phone.
She went back into the bathroom and bedroom, collecting her laundry, deciding to put a fresh set of sheets on the bed for Maurice and throwing the clothes into the washer downstairs on her way out. She stopped on her way to the door with the laundry and dropped it by the door.
Suddenly thinking of an idea, she walked over to the phone book. She looked up a number and called a funeral home near the morgue. Speaking with the funeral director, she left instructions for Paul's body to be picked up from the morgue and transported to the funeral home. She gave him the same story she'd given the people at the morgue, explaining that she'd appreciate it if he kept everything as confidential as possible as, due to the circumstances surrounding Mr. Peterson's death, she didn't want the media attention from just trying to do something decent for a man who did her no harm. She'd be in to finalize the burial in a day or so. He asked her a couple of questions and she told him that there would be no calling hours and no funeral service. She just wanted him to have a decent burial - not put in some unmarked grave, the bill footed by the City.
The funeral director understood and agreed to the utmost confidence, something he told her he prided himself on. She thanked him, hung up and dialed Amy back to let her know that a funeral home would be coming to pick up the body - giving her a bogus funeral home name and hoping that the discrepancy wouldn't come up when the home actually came to pick up his body.
She went back and gathered up the laundry basket, along with her purse and the keys to Maurice's car. She stopped in the laundry and started the washer, then went outside to drive to the hospital to pick up Maurice, trying to put thoughts of her deceased stepbrother out of her mind and be cheerful when she saw Maurice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC...