Blood Vines

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Thursday, March 18

11:10 A.M.

Alex opened her eyes. She hurt. Her mouth was dry, her limbs heavy.

“Hello, dear. Welcome back.”

A woman came into focus. A nurse. The room followed. A hospital room. IV. Monitors. Flowers.

She returned her gaze to the nurse. “Was I dead?”

The woman chuckled. “Luckily, not even close. How about a sip of water?”

“Yes, please-”

“I’ll take care of that.”

Alex turned her head. Rachel stood in the doorway, equally weighted by a vase of flowers cradled in one arm, a bottle of wine in the other.

Alex managed a weak smile. “Can’t drink while I’m on pain meds.”

“But you won’t be on them forever.” She strolled into the room, exchanging a glance with the nurse as the woman slipped out. “Besides,” she said, setting the bottle on the bedside table, “you lay this baby up, it’ll only get better.”

Alex shook her head, thinking how much she liked her. Cousins, she thought. Amazing. And despite everything that had happened, wonderful.

She found the remote and raised herself up to a forty-five-degree angle. “Treven shot me.”

“He did.” Rachel held the cup of water and straw to her lips. “Could have been a lot worse, if not for Dad’s quick thinking. I’m so proud of him.”

Alex took another sip, then lay back against the pillows, exhausted.

“Reed had called him. Asked him to check on me.” She pulled the chair over and plopped onto it. “He saw the lights on in the winery and went to investigate.”

Her voice thickened. “He heard it all, Alex.”

Alex reached out her hand. Rachel grasped it. For a long moment, they sat that way. Lost in their own thoughts, drawing comfort from the other. At least Alex knew she was.

“We need to talk,” Rachel said finally.

“Am I up to this?”

“I hope so.” She freed her hand from Alex’s, then immediately looked sorry she had. Instead, she folded both hands in her lap. “I did some things I’m not proud of. Things I hope you can forgive me for. I didn’t do them to hurt you, you have to believe me… I just wanted to… stir things up. Make them, the ones who raped me, nervous. I wanted them, and Dylan’s murderer, to know that their secrets weren’t going to stay buried forever.”

“And you needed my help?”

She looked away, then back. “Yes.”

“You scrawled Remember on my bathroom mirror.”

“Yes.”

“And you butchered those baby dolls.”

“Yes.”

“The lamb?”

“Not me. That one… my guess is Clark or Treven. In the hopes of scaring you off.”

“We’ll never know for sure, will we?”

“Actually, we just might.” At Alex’s expression, she grinned. “Clark’s alive.”

“That’s not… How… I checked his pulse.”

“Not well enough, apparently.” She leaned forward. “The bad news is, I’m a lousy shot. The good news, I didn’t kill anybody. Our family lawyer’s hooking me up with a top criminal attorney. He thinks that, considering the circumstances, I won’t be charged.”

“What about Treven?”

“In jail. Charged with the murder of Dylan Sommer.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Harlan stood in the doorway, also carrying wine and flowers. She had to laugh, though when she did it really hurt.

When she was done grimacing, Alex waved him in. “Of course not.”

He crossed to the bed, deposited his gifts, then hugged his daughter. “I’m so glad I still have you,” he said.

He turned toward Alex. His eyes, she saw, were wet. “And you, too, Alexandra.”

“Our hero,” Rachel said. “But Dad,” she said, “what were you thinking? It was a 2000 Stag’s Pass Reserve. A magnum of it.”

“You’re worth it. Both of you.”

Rachel smiled and kissed his cheek. “Enough crazy talk from you.”

He bent and pressed his lips to Alex’s forehead. “Thank you. I finally know… It’s almost unbearable to think about, but at least-”

He choked on the words and Alex grabbed his hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I feel the same way.”

He squeezed her hand. “When you’re better, let’s talk. I’d like you to come work for us. After all, it is a family winery.”