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The first thing he registered was the light. Bright white hot harsh light. Bearing down on him, unrelentingly.
Stop. Make that go away. He was fine where he was.
The darkness had been more comfortable. Calm, reassuring. Even pleasant, in a way. Drifting in the void. No stress. Perpetual calm.
Emptiness.
He and his father were having a chat. Everything I did, I did for a reason. No conflict. Acceptance. Only smiles, no regrets. At some point in everyone’s life, they decide who they want to be. They make a choice.
But that light wouldn’t let him go. And there was more. Something else intruded on his reverie.
Pain. All over his body, but especially in the center. His stomach. Hurt like hell. And his head. Throbbed. Pulsed like a rhythm instrument.
He tried to move, but even trying hurt, and he didn’t get anywhere. Maybe that could wait.
The light grew brighter, and all at once, he realized that he had opened his eyes.
“Dan? Are you awake? Dan?”
He found it required effort to speak. Each syllable grated. Enunciation was almost impossible with swollen lips. Something was wrong with his mouth. It felt as if...something was missing. “Would someone...turn off the damn lights?”
“He’s awake!” He heard someone clap hands together. “Say something.”
“I just did.”
“I think you’re awake. Are you awake?”
“My eyes are open.”
“You’ve done that before. The docs said it was an autonomic response. Didn’t mean you’d regained consciousness. But now you’re speaking!”
“And asking you...to turn off the damn lights.”
“Now you’re speaking and complaining! You are back!”
He could barely turn his head, just enough to see Camila and Maria embracing.
“What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” Camila said. “The docs warned us you might suffer some memory loss.”
He paused for a moment, drew in his breath, and tried to focus. “We were prepping for trial. Oh my God.” He tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “The trial. I need to get to the courthouse.”
He felt a firm hand on his chest. Jimmy. “Slow down, cowboy. You’re not going anywhere.”
“But the trial—”
“Has been postponed.”
“Fine.” He did feel stiff and wasn’t anxious to get out of bed. “But first thing Tuesday morning.”
A silence filled the room.
Garrett was the first to speak. “Dan—it’s Thursday.”
“What?”
“You’ve been unconscious for more than three days,” Garrett said. “Do you remember what happened to you?”
He closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could. “I finished working. Really more worrying than working. Left the office. After midnight. Walked home. Got to the boat.” His eyes opened. “Three men. There were three men waiting for me.”
“Did you recognize them?” Camila asked.
“One was the fake UPS man. The other two were new.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?” Maria asked.
“Definitely.” He sighed. “But I won’t. Probably in another county by now. I tried to fight back, but it was dark and I was outnumbered...” He frowned.
“No shame, dude,” Jimmy said. “It was a sneak attack. And they apparently had a weapon. Pummeled you on the head. What was that—a baseball bat?”
“Tire iron. I distinctly remember the tire iron.” Just thinking about it made the pain intensify.
Maria pushed a button beside his bed. “The docs told us to alert them if you woke.”
“If?” He tried to sit up again. “Who are these docs?”
Camila cut in. “That is a complicated story. As soon as I heard you were hurt, I contacted the people I know to be the best physicians in the city.” She chuckled. “But when Mr. K found out what happened, he called my bet and raised it. Flew in some of the best physicians in the nation.”
“Really?”
“Mayo Clinic. Cleveland Clinic. The President of the United States doesn’t have better doctors.”
He thought for a moment. “Then why do I hurt so damn much?”
“You’ve got two broken ribs,” Maria explained. “They’re wrapped, but apparently there’s not much the docs can do except keep it all aligned and wait for them to knit naturally. They’ll give you something for the pain if you want but...it’s still gonna hurt.”
“And you lost a tooth,” Jimmy added. “And you have two black eyes, head injuries that bled like crazy, and severe contusions and lacerations all over your body.”
“Apparently they didn’t want me to forget the beating,” he muttered.
“I think they wanted you dead,” Garrett said. “You just got lucky. These two wonderful women saved your bacon.”
“Not for the first time.” He smiled as much as he could muster. “Thanks, wonderful women.”
“Don’t worry,” Camila said, “I’ll be expecting some payback in the near future. When you’re...you know. Hardy again.”
Jimmy covered his ears. “Ick. Please stop.”
Camila laughed. “What?”
“It’s like hearing Mom and Dad talk about getting it on. Please.”
Dan laughed—then regretted it. He turned his head as far as he could manage. He found a mirror on the right, just over a cabinet.
He did look like hell. And he hurt like hell too.
And then it came back to him, in one terrifying, horrifying wash of painful memory. Every moment. Every blow. As if it were happening all over again. The sadist in the center with the ham-sized fists. The tire iron. The way they kept kicking him even after he was down, after the misery was so intense he couldn’t even scream any more. He was completely helpless, more a baby than a man.
He felt tears wash into his eye sockets. Stop, he told himself. Not with all these people around. He visited his father a hundred times while he was in prison, and did his father ever cry? The man never even complained.
His father. Something triggered inside his head. It was almost as if they’d just been chatting. But that was completely impossible...
“Do the police have any idea who did this or why?”
“No. Kakazu came by one afternoon and paid his respects. Jazlyn has visited too. But they’re clueless. We’re all assuming someone didn’t want to see you in court.”
And it would be so easy to grant their wish. He could bail on medical grounds. Or mental. Let Maria take over, or let it be assigned to another firm.
“When does the trial resume?”
“It’s on indefinite stay.”
“And the civil case?”
“The relatives are pushing for it to resume. They actually opposed the continuance, believe it or not. We won’t be able to hold them off forever.” Garrett paused. “I’ve talked to Mr. K about this. We think we should let someone else take over the cases. We’ll advise, of course. But let someone else take the lead.”
“Do you know anyone who could do that?”
“We’ll find someone. Someone who will do right by Ossie.”
“It’s for the best, Dan,” Camila said. “You need to rest. Get your strength back. It won’t happen overnight.”
“I agree,” Maria said. “You don’t need to be taking any risks right now.”
Was she talking about risks to his recuperation? Or the risk that those brutes, or others like them, might return? And this time, finish the job.
He didn’t know which was worse—the thought of dying, or the thought of being beaten senseless, one painful blow after another. On and on, never ending, unrelenting...
He couldn’t bear that. Again he felt tears welling up. He had felt so helpless, so useless. Like a rag doll those men could brutalize. He had never experienced anything like that before. No one had ever—
Except that wasn’t true, was it? Was his beating worse than what his father endured, day after day after day? Better a beating than the mental torture of being locked away forever, imprisoned, defamed for a crime you didn’t commit.
What was it his father was trying to tell him?
“Call the judge’s clerk. We want to start as soon as she can schedule us. Monday morning, if possible.”
Maria’s eyes bulged. “Monday? Dan, you can’t—”
“I’ll be ready. We’ve already done the work. And I’ll have all of you there to help.”
“Dan, it’s too soon.”
“We can do it.”
“No!” Maria’s voice peaked. “I’m sorry, Dan, I almost always let you have your way, but this time I’m putting my foot down. I won’t stand around and watch you kill yourself. Or get yourself murdered. You are not the only lawyer in this town. We’ll let someone else take the case. And that’s final.”
He drew in his breath. He knew she was speaking out of love, but he still needed to make her see it from his perspective. “Maria, think for a minute. What was the point of the beating? Truly? Beating me up—or even killing me—wouldn’t prevent the trial from happening. The prosecution isn’t going to drop the charges. The court isn’t going to let Ossie be tried without a lawyer. So what’s the point? Delay. That’s the only thing attacking me might accomplish. That’s what someone wants. I don’t know why, but I’m damned certain I’m not going to cooperate. If the judge is agreeable, we start Monday morning.”
A nurse appeared at the door. “The doctors are on their way. I’m going to have to ask the visitors to leave for a bit. We need more room.”
Most of them nodded and moved toward the door, but Maria held back. “Dan, this is a mistake. You were seriously injured. You can’t rush your recovery.”
“I’ll be fine. Promise.”
“At least wait and see what the docs say.”
“Nothing they could say is going to change my mind.”
“No one will think ill of you because you quit the case. You were attacked. Almost killed.”
“And that’s where they screwed up,” he said, a thin smile crossing his swollen face.
“What do you mean?”
“If they wanted this trial delayed, they should’ve killed me. But as long as I’m breathing, I will not concede. I don’t quit.” He pushed himself up. “We’re going to trial, Maria. And we’re going to win.”