Private Dublin

Chapter 91

Eight days later, on the second Tuesday in July, Justine was discharged from hospital. I walked alongside her as she was wheeled to the lobby — a formal requirement apparently — and held her hand as she thanked the orderly and stood up.

“I can’t tell you how good this feels,” she said, as we walked into the late-afternoon sunshine.

“I have an idea,” I replied. “And it’s almost as good as it feels to be taking you home.”

She smiled and we walked to the car parked in the hospital lot. I knew Mo-bot and Sci had wanted to be here too, but they had the sensitivity to realize Justine might be overwhelmed and easily tired. So they were at the office, busying themselves with the aftermath of the Dublin investigation. We’d arranged a celebratory meal at Geoffrey’s in Malibu on Saturday if Justine’s rehab and recovery saw her well enough. Judging by the walk to the car, I was confident we’d be dining beside the Pacific Ocean that weekend.

I drove her to my place in Pacific Palisades and we smiled at each other as I steered my Mercedes through the automatic gates. We usually lived separately, but I wanted her with me for the next couple of weeks at the very least.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked. “I’m well enough to go home. I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding. I’ve cleared the decks to help look after you,” I replied as I parked in my driveway. “Anyway, it was about time we did something like this.”

She leaned over and kissed me.

“I don’t want you being alone until I know you’re safe,” I told her.

“You worried I might melt?” she asked.

“I just want to be sure,” I replied. In fact, I knew I had reason for caution beyond any lingering worry for Justine’s health. Raymond Chalmont was still out there, and he was almost certainly going to try again. I didn’t want to drive the point home now though because I didn’t want Justine to feel even more vulnerable than her injuries had already made her. “It will be nice. We’ll watch movies, eat well, hang out.”

“Works for me,” she said before getting out of the car.

We made good on my plan and cuddled on the couch while we watched the latest Dune movie. Later, I ordered Thai food, which we ate on the terrace overlooking the ocean, enjoying the gentle breeze and dying embers of what had been a perfect sunset.

“Life doesn’t get any better than this,” I remarked. I was so happy to see her well and on her way to a full recovery.

“I can think of a way to improve it,” she said suggestively.

“Really?” I asked. “I didn’t want to...”

“We can just take it slowly,” she replied, and led me inside and upstairs to my bedroom.

We’d just crossed the threshold when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I knew exactly what the alert meant.

“Sorry,” I said, stepping back from Justine. “I have to take this.”

When I glanced at the screen, I saw footage coming from one of the motion-activated cameras in the garden. A gang of masked men were making their way toward the house.

“What is it?” Justine asked, sensing my sudden concern.

“You need to get to the panic room now,” I said, leading her out into the hallway and to the secure secret room installed behind a false wall in the second bedroom.

“Don’t come out,” I told her. “No matter what happens.”