Chapter 25

Benedict

“Look at this,” Vin says, sliding a piece of paper toward me with a sense of urgency.

I take the document, trying to keep my gaze fixed on the front of the church to avoid drawing attention. “What is it?” I ask, briefly scanning the paper.

“It’s the financial record for that shell corporation we traced back to Christopher Matthews,” Vin explains. “Check out the date of the last significant transaction.”

I study the paper closely and my eyes widen as I see the date. “It was yesterday.”

“That’s right,” Vin confirms. “The same day he met with Delgado. We’re currently tracing where the funds are headed next, but it’s looking like Christopher might be laundering money for the Delgados.”

“What about the trafficking ring?” I ask, my concern evident in my voice.

“We’re still piecing that together,” Vin replies, handing me another sheet of paper. “But we’ve uncovered something significant about Gregory Saunders.”

I take the new document and scan it, my curiosity piqued. “What’s this?”

“Check out who’s listed as the beneficiary on this insurance policy,” Vin says.

I read the name on the paper, and it’s the shell corporation’s name, not Saunders’ wife. “Not his wife?” I ask, incredulous.

“This policy was taken out a week before Saunders died,” Vin says, his tone grave.

The realization hits me hard. “Christopher Matthews is more deeply involved than we originally thought.”

As the implications of the documents sink in, my mind immediately drifts to Eva. I can’t shake the thought of how devastated she’ll be to learn that her ex-husband is entangled in this mess far deeper than we initially realized. The weight of it all—the danger, the betrayal—will likely crush her.

“I should go and tell Eva,” I whisper urgently to Vin, making sure no one else can overhear. I’m also driven by a personal need to see her. The night we spent together was intense and filled with unresolved emotions. The way I went down on her, the connection we shared…it left a lot unsaid. I want her to understand that my feelings for her extend beyond her involvement in this case. I want her to know that I’m not just using her role to advance our investigation.

My mind is clouded with uncertainty about how she’s processing everything. I don’t even know where she stands emotionally or how she’s handling the pressure. We need to have a conversation, to clear the air and address everything that’s been left unsaid.

I look at Vin, my resolve firming up. “I’m heading out,” I say, needing to make it clear that this isn’t just about the case for me. “I need to check on her, see how she’s doing, and talk things through.”

With a final, reassuring nod to Vin, I turn and head for the door, my thoughts consumed by the urgent need to bridge the gap between us and face whatever truths lie ahead.

I hurriedly make my way to Eva’s apartment, my thoughts racing with concern. As I approach her door, I notice it’s slightly ajar. My heart skips a beat. “Eva?” I call out tentatively, pushing the door open with a trembling hand.

The sight that greets me inside is horrifying. Her apartment, once so full of life, now feels like a crime scene. Eva is sprawled on the floor, her body a mess of blood and bruises. The room is dimly lit, casting eerie shadows over her battered form. The sight of her like this is almost too much to bear.

I rush to her side, my heart pounding in my chest. Dropping to my knees, I gently cradle her in my arms, trying to keep my hands steady. There’s an overwhelming panic coursing through my system. “Eva?” I whisper urgently, my voice cracking with fear. “Oh, please let her be okay. Can you hear me?”

Her eyes flutter weakly, and I let out a shaky breath of relief. She’s still conscious, though barely responsive. Her breaths are shallow, and her body trembles with each intake of air.

I try to stay calm, though every inch of me is screaming with anxiety. My hands are trembling as I check for any signs of further injury. I need to get her help, but I’m desperate to keep her awake and conscious until then. “Hang in there, Eva. Help is on the way,” I murmur, my voice a mix of desperation and determination as I reach for my phone to call for an ambulance.

“She’s pretty banged up. Busted lip. Swollen eyes. She's also got a concussion and a few broken ribs,” Doctor Cartwright says to me, his voice calm but carrying the weight of concern. “But she won’t respond to us when we ask her who was responsible. We’ve done what we can for now. Lucky for you, Father, I don’t know what would have happened had you not rescued her in time.”

I shudder at the thought, my heart heavy with guilt and fear. “Can I see her?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Doctor Cartwright nods, his expression sympathetic. “Follow me.”

We walk through the sterile, brightly lit waiting room. The buzz of conversation and the occasional beeping of medical equipment fade as we make our way down a long, dimly lit hallway. The antiseptic smell of the hospital fills my nostrils, mixing with the faint, lingering scent of Eva’s perfume, which now feels hauntingly out of place in this clinical environment.

Doctor Cartwright leads me to the end of the hall and opens the door to a small, private room. The space is bathed in soft, muted light from a single overhead fixture. Eva is lying on the hospital bed, her face pale and covered in bruises. Her breathing is steady but shallow, a rhythmic rise and fall beneath the white hospital sheets.

I walk slowly to her bedside, my heart aching at the sight of her vulnerable state. Her once vibrant eyes are closed, her usual bright spirit dimmed by the pain she must be enduring. The room feels too quiet, and I can’t help but feel a crushing sense of responsibility for what happened to her.

I pull a chair close to the bed and sit down, reaching out to take her hand gently in mine. “Eva,” I whisper, my voice breaking as I struggle to hold back my tears. “I’m here. I’m so sorry. I should have been there sooner.”

Her hand feels limp in mine, but I squeeze it gently, hoping she can sense my presence and the depth of my concern. I glance up at Doctor Cartwright, who is standing quietly near the door, giving me some space.

“Is there anything I can do to help her?” I ask, my voice trembling with urgency.

Doctor Cartwright shakes his head. “Right now, she needs rest. We’ll keep monitoring her closely and manage her pain. If she wakes up, we’ll do our best to get her to talk. But for now, just being here with her might be the most comforting thing you can do.”

I nod, feeling the weight of helplessness pressing down on me. I turn my attention back to Eva, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Just hang in there, Eva,” I murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I don’t need her to tell me who did this to her. It’s obvious it was Christopher. He must have recognized her from the club last night.

My blood boils as I think about all the ways I’d like to personally see to his demise. Watch him squirm as I sink my fingers into his eye sockets and push. I’d love to beat him to a bloody pulp, see how he likes being manhandled.

My anger flares up once more as I see Eva stir on the bed, her frail form shifting slightly under the sheets.

“Benedict,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. Each syllable is strained and laced with pain, and it cuts through me like a knife.

I tighten my grip on her hand, trying to offer what little comfort I can. “You’re safe now,” I say softly, my voice filled with a desperation I can’t quite hide. More than anything, I want to gather her in my arms, to shield her from the world and carry her away from all this horror. The thought of holding her close, away from harm, feels like a distant dream.

Doctor Cartwright, sensing the gravity of the moment, discreetly steps out, giving us the privacy we need. The quiet hum of the hospital room is punctuated only by the soft beeping of the heart monitor, and I slide closer to Eva, my heart aching at her suffering.

“It’s just me and you now, baby,” I whisper, my voice tender as I gently pat her head with my free hand. The contact is meant to be soothing, though I know it’s a small comfort compared to the pain she’s enduring. “You’re safe now.”

Her eyes flutter open briefly, and she manages to choke out a single word. “Christopher.”

My heart clenches at the name. I swallow hard, fighting the rage that surges within me. “I know,” I say, my voice steady but tight. “We’ll get through this. I promise you, Eva. We’ll figure this out.”

Her eyelids grow heavy again, and she seems to drift back into a fitful sleep. I remain at her side, my gaze never leaving her pale face. My mind races, full of unanswered questions and a deep-seated resolve to protect her from any further harm.