Page 99 of Plan Interrupted

“Can you describe anything at all about the people from the limo? Gender, origin, height, build? Any unique or strange mannerisms?”

He took another sip of water and swished it around his dry mouth before swallowing. “There were three men. One was rather tall and muscular, and the other two were of average height and size. A little smaller than me. But again, it was dark, and I didn’t get a good look at them. They grabbed me, and then two of them held me, as the other repeatedly punched me in my face and stomach. It all happened so fast, I didn’t really know what was going on, and now I’m here.”

After a few more questions, the Elk Grove officer left the room.

“How long do I have to stay here?”

“I don’t know. Let me go ask,” his brother replied, as he exited the room.

He sipped the last of his water and Elizabeth refilled his glass. She had been quiet during the questioning, and looked like she was on the verge of tears when he spoke about the men beating him. In hindsight, he realized he shouldn’t have said that in front of her. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

Nick returned a moment later. “The nurse said that the doctor is scheduled to reevaluate you at 1:30 p.m.”

“I just want to go home,”

His brother sat on the edge of the bed. “Have you seen yourself yet?”

“No. Is it that bad?” Nick hesitated before replying. “Well, you’re probably going to scare the hell out of the kids when they see you, but I don’t see it getting any better for several days.”

Joe shifted his legs over the side of the bed. The pain from the maneuver nearly sent him through the ceiling, though he wasn’t sure which caused more agony, his bruised and battered muscles or his pounding head. He gripped the rail of the bed just as his brother grabbed his arm to steady him. The room spun. Hands down, the pain in his head was the worst.

“Where are you going?” his brother asked.

“To the bathroom. I need to see how I look.”

With Nick on one side of him, and Elizabeth on the other, he rose from the bed and shuffled his feet in the direction of the restroom. When they reached the door, he shrugged his arms from their grips. “I think I can handle it from here.”

He stepped inside and shut the door before nearly falling on his face. Why was everything so wavy? If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was on the lake in a small fishing boat rocking along with six-foot rollers. He gripped the sink for support, and tried to focus on his reflection in the mirror. He blinked the only eye he could open several times in an attempt to clear his vision. It didn’t take long to realize what Nick was talking about, and he knew his brother was right, it was going to take a while for the swelling of his eye and cheek to go down. Even longer for the bruising to disappear.

“What am I going to tell the kids?” he whispered through dry, cracked lips.

As promised, the doctor showed up shortly after 1:30 p.m. and reevaluated him. Though he was still in a lot of pain, he insisted that he be released.

“Well, there’s not much we can do for your injuries, they’re such that they need to heal on their own,” the doctor replied. “I’ll prescribe some pain medication for you, but you have to promise to take it easy for several days. It’s going to take a long time for your cheekbone and bruises to heal, and as for the concussion, well, what you really need is rest.”

Elizabeth and Nick helped him into the truck. He did his best to hide the extent of his discomfort from them, but judging from the empathetic looks he was receiving, he knew they knew of the extreme pain he was in.

During the ride home, he debated what he was going to tell the kids. They’d certainly wonder why he looked as if he’d been beaten to a pulp. He needed to come up with something quick because Molly was home already and Max would be getting off the bus soon.

He cleared his throat. “We’re just going to tell them that I fell down some steps.”

His brother flashed him a look of disbelief.

“They’re eight and four. They’ll buy it if that’s what I tell them, and we stick to the story,” Joe assured.

He dialed his dad’s cell number from Nick’s phone, even that simple task hurt not only his head but his sensitive fingertips and palms. How was it they were sore?

“Hello.”

“Hi, Dad, we’re just about home, but before we arrive I’m hoping you can prepare Molly so she doesn’t get scared when she sees me?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Just tell her I took a tumble down some stairs, and that I’m pretty bruised up, but everything is fine.” Silence filled the air. Joe imagined his dad was skeptical about the kids buying that story. “Unless you can come up with something better, that’s all I got.”

“I’ll tell her. See you in a bit.”

Before he was able to set the phone on the center console it rang, vibrating painfully in his palm. He squinted at the screen, then glanced at his brother. “It’s Elizabeth’s boss. I’ll put it on speaker.”