CHAPTER FORTY
Grace
Being home is supposed to feel like a relief. Instead, it feels like tap-dancing on a landmine. I suspect the woman who called was referring to Dr. Branson and the statement my attorney gave to the police. That, or there was more. Things I didn’t know. Things only one person could tell me—Charles.
A few days after the kids and I arrived home, he was transferred to a nursing facility. He needs to continue to heal and to regain his strength, and, most importantly, to learn to walk again. Nearly three weeks tied to a bed had done a number on him, and that wasn’t even taking into account what his captors had inflicted.
I first speak to him on the phone. I bombard him with questions, which he doesn’t seem thrilled by. “We’ll discuss everything in due time, okay?” he hiss
