He Saved Me Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Pretext

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  EPILOGUE

  Joshua 10:25

  Acknowledgements

  Connect with Whitney Barbetti

  He Saved Me

  A Sequel to He Found Me

  Whitney Barbetti

  Copyright

  © 2014 by Whitney Barbetti

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Najla Qamber, Najla Qamber Designs, www.najlaqamberdesigns.com/

  Interior Designer: Travis Simmons, Wyrding Ways Press, www.wyrdingwayspress.com/

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  “He who is brave is free.”

  ~Seneca

  PROLOGUE

  ~Julian~

  December 2010

  Each beep punctuated the air with sound, hitting the center of my chest with the knowledge that each beep meant she was still alive. But those beeps were providing more than life for her. Each one enabled me to hold onto my sanity a little bit longer.

  Her hand was cold, clammy, in mine. In the harshness of winter, her skin had lost the color that the summer’s sun gave her. But even then, her skin was paler than it would normally be. So pale, I could make out the veins that ran from her hands to her elbows, disappearing underneath the hospital gown.

  I brought her wrist to my mouth and placed a kiss on the underside, right on top of the veins that ran proudly from her hand up through her body. After pulling away, I pressed a thumb to her pulse, taking comfort in feeling its beat against my skin. I dropped my head, cradling it in her hand as I breathed deeply. She smelled different. The smell of clementines was missing, replaced by the artificial smells of the hospital. She smelled sterile. And under that, there was the scent of sea water. It was with that smell that I felt my chest tighten, felt my throat close up. I could have lost her. I still can.

  There was a knock on the door behind me. “Julian.” The voice was firm, but kind. I lifted my head up to look at the doorway. A petite blond woman walked to the other side of the hospital bed and reached her hand to shake mine. “I’m Dr. Stephenson. I’m one of the doctors taking care of Andra.”

  I nodded. I didn’t want to waste any words, any energy. I was ready to collapse.

  Dr. Stephenson moved further into the room. She moved smoothly, as if she’d walked the same path of tiles over and over, every single day. As if she danced to music no one heard. “I know the ER team already spoke to you earlier, but can you answer a few questions for me? We want to make sure we get a handle on what happened.”

  What happened? Even I wasn’t completely sure. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Sure.” It was all I could manage to say.

  She nodded and took the seat across from the foot of Andra’s bed. She pulled a notebook from her pocket and smiled gently at me. “You were the one who pulled her out, correct?”

  I heard three beeps from the machines before I answered. “That’s correct.”

  “And you started CPR?”

  My mind flashed back to that moment, to when my lips touched hers for probably the thousandth time, only this time it was to deliver life, not affection. Her lips had been so cold, and blue. “Yes.”

  “Do you know how long she was under water?”

  This question had already been asked a half a dozen times. The first time it’d been asked, I had lost it on the paramedic. I felt a little bad about that. Now that I’d calmed down, I gave the only answer I could. “I wasn’t exactly timing it.”

  She nodded. “Of course you weren’t. But could you give an estimate?”

  I dropped my head, cradling it in my hands. The moment I’d pulled her out had felt like a blur, a dream sequence. Holding her limp body against me hadn’t felt real. It was a moment I couldn’t forget. But I still didn’t know how much time had actually passed.

  Before I could tell her as much, she continued. “Was it as long as a commercial break? Or longer?

  I rewound my brain to the moment I didn’t see her come up for breath. I ran down the pier, my chest aching from exertion and fear. I remembered barely registering the shock of cold water hitting my skin as I dove in, my body fueled entirely by adrenaline; I was completely focused on bringing her to the surface. Diving deep, it was her hair I saw first. The long brown strands floating around her at the sandy bottom. As I’d neared her, I’d seen the look of utter peace on her face, eyes closed, her face relaxed. She’d looked ethereal. I remembered bits and pieces: grabbing her by her upper arms, pulling her to the surface, pushing away the blood that swirled in the water around us as I dragged her to the shore. I remembered frantically checking for a pulse as the water dripped from my head onto hers. I remembered pushing down on her chest, over and over, before tilting her head and blowing into her mouth. Over and over again. I remembered being pulled away from her.

  “Julian.” The voice was faint, pulling me out of the memory. I whipped my head to the head of the bed, but Andra’s eyes were still closed. My name was said again and I turned my head to the doctor, likely looking at her with renewed grief.

  “It was probably less than a commercial break. Or, I don’t know.” I rubbed my hands through my hair in frustration. “Maybe longer? I don’t know.”

  The doctor regarded me for a moment. “You saved her life, Julian.”

  I looked at her; pen paused on the paper in her hand. “You don’t know that. She wasn’t breathing.” My voice was hollow.

  “She’s breathing now.” The doctor’s voice was soothing in some way, but it wasn’t the voice I wanted to hear the most.

  I laughed, the sound lacking warmth. “Not without help,” I said while gesturing at the ventilator that was wrapped around her face.

  “She’s in a medically induced coma. We need the swelling in her brain to go down to prevent brain damage.”

  “The last doctor already told me that brain damage is likely. They just don’t know the extent.” It was something I tried not to think about

  “‘Likely’ is not a word I like to use. It’s not very scientific, and I’m a scientist. I go on facts, not assumptions. So have some faith.”

  “Faith is not very scientific either, Dr. Stephenson.”

  That earned a small smile from her. “No, it’s not.” She stood up and tucked her notepad into her coat pocket. “But her chest x-rays look surprisingly good and her blood pressure is stabilized. The scientist in me feels optimistic at her recovery. You should too.” She walked to the d
oor and stopped, spinning elegantly on her rubber soled shoes. “You should get some rest while you can. Take a walk. Clear your head,” she said meaningfully before leaving.

  I heaved a sigh and brought my attention back to Andra. She looked peaceful, with her hands resting on her chest, her nail polish chipped. Her eyes were closed, her long lashes resting upon the pale skin that looked bruised under her eyes. There were true bruises elsewhere on her body, and I knew that under the blanket, her left knee was swollen triple its usual size.

  I didn’t know what to do with the rage that simmered just under the surface. It bubbled and spilled over, made me think, act, feel irrationally. The energy rippled through me, over and over, but there was no way to let it out.

  And that’s when the police came to speak with me.

  CHAPTER ONE

  June 2010

  She was gone. I stood in the road and yelled her name until my throat was numb with cold and my lips ached. I was barefoot, in just a pair of shorts, in the middle of the woods.

  I looked around me, trying to decide where she’d gone. I started walking up the road, the bite of the asphalt pricking my feet. The pain was mild, and I pushed it to the back of my head, looking for clues, for anything. I picked up a lot of trash, looking for a sign of Andra. I yelled, punched a tree just off the road, and fell right onto the piece of evidence I was looking for. I knew it was Andra’s phone, based on the custom Queen cover. The screen was shattered, the sides of the phone gouged from tumbling on the road.

  I sank to my knees in the grass, helpless, and terrified at the implications of her shattered phone. It was that moment that I remembered, she’d left freely. Andra wouldn’t run from me into the hands of danger. I jogged back to the house, the adrenaline in my veins slowing down. I started to feel the pain in my feet and didn’t bother looking at them, more concerned with tracking Andra down. I set her phone down on my desk and tapped my mouse to wake up the computer screen.

  I started making some calls.

  She told me not to return to the ranch, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I waited until the following night, as long as I possibly could, and snuck onto the property through the trees, coming in from where Andra and I had ran together before. It was nearly pitchy black and the woods were eerily quiet. I didn’t think to carry any weaponry, which was probably a stupid idea, but I wasn’t thinking all that clearly after my restless night and day.

  I was so completely focused on everything else running through my mind that I didn’t see the man in my path until it was nearly too late. I ducked just as he reached out to hit me, leaving me to fall onto a huge pile of pine needles. I rolled away and jumped back to my feet, on the defensive, when a beam of light hit me in the face, blinding me.

  “Who are you?” the voice asked. It belonged to a man, and judging by his silhouette between the trees, he had a good seventy-five pounds on me.

  I put a hand up and turned my face to the side, trying to see through the beam of light. “I’m Julian. Who are you?”

  The man drew his light down. “Yeah, I know. And you’re an idiot.”

  I pulled my shoulders back. “And why is that?”

  The man sighed, turning off his flashlight. “Because you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Who’s that?” a feminine voice called from beyond him, at the beginning of the tree line to the ranch’s front lawn. It wasn’t familiar.

  “Come on,” the shadow said, tilting his head at me, signaling me to follow. So I did.

  “Who the hell are you?” the feminine voice said as we neared her.

  The man leading me pointed a thumb back to me. “Julian.”

  I was now close enough to see her features lit up by the flood light. She had blue hair and bright jeans. “You’re an idiot,” she said flatly, glaring at me.

  “That’s what I keep hearing,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Is Andra here?”

  She waved off the big man beside me and looked at me for a minute, her black-rimmed eyes sharp. “I need a drink,” she said, as if that answered my question. She turned away, heading towards Andra’s cabin. I followed, even though she hadn’t given me any invitation. She practically kicked the door open and waltzed in as if she owned the place. I followed, reluctantly, and watched her open up cupboard after cupboard, searching for something. She was tiny, but compact. She looked to be early thirties and had exceptional muscle tone. After watching her rummage around for a minute, I decided she was the scariest kind of beautiful. But she was not Andra.

  “Where’s Andra?” I asked.

  I watched her slam a couple cupboards before she hung her head down, her blue hair swinging around her head. She sighed and reached into the back pocket of her jeans, coming out with a pack of cigarettes. She didn’t look at me, but smacked the pack against her hand as she looked around the kitchen. She pulled out a cigarette and popped it in her mouth before resuming her search of the cabinets, the unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.

  I was usually a very patient man, but this woman was testing me. “Where is Andra?” I demanded.

  “God!” she yelled. She slammed her hands onto the counter. I heard the rattle of something in the drawers below, but she paid no mind as she dragged a lighter from her pocket, lighting the cigarette. She took several puffs and closed her eyes, leaning her head back. After a moment, she opened them and looked at me. “You aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “Well, I am. And I want to know where Andra is.”

  She laughed and crossed an arm over her stomach, supporting the elbow of her other arm with her hand. She sucked on the cigarette and released a puff of smoke. “Safe. Andra is safe.”

  It was what I figured, based on her text. “Which means she’s not here, I’m assuming?”

  The woman looked at me a minute, cigarette in hand and licked the side of her lips. “Guess you’re not as big a dummy as I thought,” she finally said.

  “Who are you?”

  She laughed again. It was getting on my nerves. “Nobody.”

  “What is your name?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  Yep, my patience was all but gone now. “Because you have something to do with Andra’s disappearance, and I want answers.” My fist hit the island countertop harder than I intended.

  The woman’s eyes were as sharp as razor blades. “Now listen here, Julian,” she said, enunciating every word in a way that made me feel like she was disciplining me. “I don’t have to tell you shit. I’ve had a long god damn night and your presence here only messes things up. So excuse me if I am not willing to spill my guts out for you right now.” She huffed on her cigarette, eyeing me up and down. “What happened to your hand?” she asked, motioning with her cigarette.

  I looked down at the hand that I’d punched the tree with. “I was angry.”

  “No shit?” Her eyebrows were drawn together and she looked at me like I’d just told her the sky was blue. She watched me for another minute, alternating between sucking on the cigarette and chewing her lip. “Mira.”

  “What?”

  She sighed and sucked once more on her cigarette. “My name. It’s Mira.” She blew out the smoke with her head leaned back.

  “And who are you?”

  She stabbed out her cigarette in the sink and threw it in the trash. “I’m Six’s girlfriend.” She looked up at me. “Six and Andra are gone.”

  “Where?”

  She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I am not telling you anything. You’ve already fucked things up coming here. It’s best that you get back on the road.”

  “No,” I eyed her just as sharply as she eyed me. “I’m not leaving until I know where she is.”

  Mira walked to the refrigerator and opened the freezer. Before I knew what was happening, a bag of frozen vegetables was flying at my face. I grabbed it just barely in time. “Put those on your knuckles.”

  I dropped the bag onto the island. “Tell me.”

  Mir
a squared her stance, arms crossed over her chest. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because.”

  “That’s not an answer.” I practically felt what little patience I had leaving my body.

  She huffed and reached for her pack of cigarettes again.

  “Those will kill you,” I said disdainfully.

  She placed an unlit cigarette at her lips and looked up at me under dark brows. “So will a great many things, I imagine.” She lit the cigarette with her lighter and then flicked it open and closed repeatedly. It was gold, shiny, and seemed too big for her hands. I watched her stare at the lighter for a minute. “I’m out of here, Julian,” she said.

  I stood in the way of the door. “No. I want to know where she is.”

  “Great for you,” she said, moving around me. I blocked her again. She stood facing me, her eyes narrowed. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth and blew smoke in my face. “You will move.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Tell me.”

  She shoved around me out the door, headed towards her vehicle. I followed close behind. When she reached the car she spun around, causing me to stop quickly. “I don’t know, Julian. Okay? Even I don’t know where they are.” Something simmered on the edge of her words. If I knew her better, I’d almost call it fear. But since I didn’t, I watched her climb in her car and drive away.

  July

  I was getting nowhere in finding Andra. It was constant back and forth, scouring the internet for clues. And I couldn’t track down Mira either. I poured myself into writing another book, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure.

  August

  I finished my novel. And still hadn’t heard a word from anyone. I made visits to the ranch, to Rosa specifically. But she was as dumbstruck and heartsick as I was.

  Rosa cradled a coffee cup in her hand, her knuckles white and her eyes red. “I just hope that wherever she is, she’s safe.” And that was the crux of our heartsickness. Was Andra safe? Not hearing a single word one way or another was torture. The lack of knowledge bred fear, irrational fear especially.