Once Gone (a Riley Paige Mystery--Book #1)

Chapter 28

Riley opened her eyes, then squinted, shielding her face with her hand. Her head was splitting, her mouth dry. The morning light from the window was blinding and painful, reminding her uncannily of the white flash of Peterson's torch.

She heard April's voice say, "I'll take care of that, Mom."

There came a slight rattling and the glare diminished. She opened her eyes.

She saw that April had just closed the venetian blinds, shutting out the direct sunlight. She came over to the couch and sat down beside where Riley still lay. She picked up a cup of coffee and offered it to her.

"Careful, it's hot," April said.

Riley, the room spinning, slowly eased herself into a sitting position and reached for the mug. Handling the cup gingerly, she took a small sip. It was hot, all right. It burned both her fingertips and her tongue. Still, she was able to hold it, and she took another sip. At least the pain gave her a feeling of coming to life again.

April was staring off into space.

"Are you going to want some breakfast?" April asked in a distant, vacant voice.

"Maybe later," Riley said. "I'll fix it."

April smirked a bit sadly. Doubtless she could see that Riley was in no condition to fix much of anything.

"No, I'll do it," April said. "Just let me know when you feel like eating."

They both fell silent. April kept on staring elsewhere. Humiliation gnawed at Riley's gut. She vaguely remembered her disgraceful phone call to Bill last night, then her last thoughts before passing out—that hideous knowledge that she'd truly hit rock bottom. And now, to make matters worse, her daughter was here to witness her ruin.

Still sounding distant, April asked, "What are you planning to do today?"

It seemed both an odd question and a good one. It was time for Riley to make plans. If this was rock bottom, she needed to start pulling herself out.

She flashed back to her dream, her father's words, and as she did, she realized it was time to confront some of her demons.

Her father. The darkest presence of her life. The one who had always lingered in the back of her consciousness. The driving force, she sometimes felt, behind all the darkness she had manifested in her life. He, of all people, was the one she needed to see. Whether it was a primal urge for a father's love, her urge to face head-on the darkness in her life, or a desire to shake off being haunted by her dream, she did not know. But the urge consumed her.

"I think I'll drive out to see Grandpa," she said.

"Grandpa?" she asked, shocked. "You haven't seen him for years. Why would you go see him? I think he hates me."

"I don't think so," Riley said. "He's always been too busy hating me."

Another silence fell, and Riley sensed that her daughter was gathering her resolve.

"I want you to know something," April said. "I dumped out the rest of the vodka. There wasn't much left. I also poured out the whiskey you still had in the cabinet. I'm sorry. I guess it was none of my business. I shouldn't have done that."

Tears came to Riley's eyes. This was surely the most grown-up and responsible thing she'd ever known April to do.

"No, you should have," Riley said. "It was the right thing to do. Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't do it myself."

Riley wiped away a tear and gathered up her own resolve.

"I think it's time we really talked," Riley said. "I think it's time I told you some of the things you've wanted me to tell you." She sighed. "But it won't be pleasant."