this whole situation, so I kept searching for the key—one question at a time.
“Your head’s screwed up. Her life, Harlan’s and your grandfather’s depend on this. What the hell kind of drug did you take?”
Anger slapped me in the gut. “Nothing. I didn’t take anything. Why are we back to that, anyway?”
The topic yanked my curiosity into high gear. It had to have been Pierce who drugged me…or maybe not. “Wait. I, um, there was a handful of chocolate truffles in Miz Stalker’s duffle. You know the kind with the foil wrapping? I helped myself to a couple ’cause they’re one of my favorites. The mint ones.”
Pierce veered over two lanes of traffic and screeched to a stop on the side of the road. He turned to face me, his blue eyes burning with anger. “In her duffle?” The words were a staccato shout that disappeared in the muffled roar of fast-moving traffic.
I nodded, fear creeping over my skin. Had Miz Stalker planned to drug someone? Like Millie or Harlan? Both of them?
Pierce jerked his phone from his front pocket and punched in numbers. “Foil-wrapped chocolates in the duffle. Bedroom closet. Get them to the lab.”
So maybe Pierce hadn’t drugged me. An apology got wadded up in my head and stuck in my throat. He’d still kidnapped me. I freed the bottle of water from the webbed seat pocket, and took a few gulps, successfully washing down my apology. I’d get to it, but not until he shared a lot more information about what was going down. Trust had to be two-way street, and Tynan Pierce had only shared one personal thing with me in the two years we’d been friends. One. Thing. It wasn’t enough.
He merged back onto H1. “This is how we’re going to play it. We take the back stairs to the burn unit. Cover up in paper suits and masks. I’ll talk. You touch.”
I nibbled on a French fry. I was good to go with his plan, ’cause I wanted to check on Millie and get whatever images she could share. But after that… I washed the last fry down with a swallow of Diet Coke, tied my shoes, and then slipped my handbag over my shoulder cross-body style. Even if he didn’t drug me, the handbag with my everyday essentials—lock picks, phone, and toothbrush—was staying with me no matter what Tynan Pierce did.
He parked in the Straub garage, and handed me out of the Jeep. I wanted to refuse his help, to stand on my own, but my leg muscles were decidedly lacking in elasticity. He kept his hand at the small of my back as we entered the hospital complex, guiding me. I made the mistake of sucking in a breath, and gagged on the antiseptic-laden recycled air. Dumb. I knew to take shallow breaths in a hospital. Spotting a restroom, I pointed. “How about we stop here?”
Ten minutes later I’d used the facilities, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tamed my hair into a tidy ponytail. There wasn’t anything I could do about my clothes, or the smell from sweating through my drug-induced coma. Who knew drugged sweat smelled so bad?
We made our way upstairs without any inconvenient surprises, wrapped up in paper gowns, caps, and booties, and then worked our hands into disposable gloves, all according to the directions posted in the anteroom of the burn unit. I kept my handbag tight to my side under the gown.
“Do you know which bed she’s in?” My voice trembled. It was the first time either of us had spoken since I finished my cleanup in the ladies room, and the tremor surprised me. No warning signals were exploding in my mind, no neck pricklies. Nothing to warrant trembling words.
“End of the hall, left side. The nurse’ll take us to her. Nobody goes in unsupervised.”
Okay, then. Cryptic as usual.
Pierce did some fast-talking with the nurse while I followed a few paces behind them.
Smiling, the nurse lifted a corner of the curtain surrounding Millie’s cubicle. “Ten minutes.”
I inhaled a shaky breath, and slipped through the opening.
Empty bed. No one in
“Your head’s screwed up. Her life, Harlan’s and your grandfather’s depend on this. What the hell kind of drug did you take?”
Anger slapped me in the gut. “Nothing. I didn’t take anything. Why are we back to that, anyway?”
The topic yanked my curiosity into high gear. It had to have been Pierce who drugged me…or maybe not. “Wait. I, um, there was a handful of chocolate truffles in Miz Stalker’s duffle. You know the kind with the foil wrapping? I helped myself to a couple ’cause they’re one of my favorites. The mint ones.”
Pierce veered over two lanes of traffic and screeched to a stop on the side of the road. He turned to face me, his blue eyes burning with anger. “In her duffle?” The words were a staccato shout that disappeared in the muffled roar of fast-moving traffic.
I nodded, fear creeping over my skin. Had Miz Stalker planned to drug someone? Like Millie or Harlan? Both of them?
Pierce jerked his phone from his front pocket and punched in numbers. “Foil-wrapped chocolates in the duffle. Bedroom closet. Get them to the lab.”
So maybe Pierce hadn’t drugged me. An apology got wadded up in my head and stuck in my throat. He’d still kidnapped me. I freed the bottle of water from the webbed seat pocket, and took a few gulps, successfully washing down my apology. I’d get to it, but not until he shared a lot more information about what was going down. Trust had to be two-way street, and Tynan Pierce had only shared one personal thing with me in the two years we’d been friends. One. Thing. It wasn’t enough.
He merged back onto H1. “This is how we’re going to play it. We take the back stairs to the burn unit. Cover up in paper suits and masks. I’ll talk. You touch.”
I nibbled on a French fry. I was good to go with his plan, ’cause I wanted to check on Millie and get whatever images she could share. But after that… I washed the last fry down with a swallow of Diet Coke, tied my shoes, and then slipped my handbag over my shoulder cross-body style. Even if he didn’t drug me, the handbag with my everyday essentials—lock picks, phone, and toothbrush—was staying with me no matter what Tynan Pierce did.
He parked in the Straub garage, and handed me out of the Jeep. I wanted to refuse his help, to stand on my own, but my leg muscles were decidedly lacking in elasticity. He kept his hand at the small of my back as we entered the hospital complex, guiding me. I made the mistake of sucking in a breath, and gagged on the antiseptic-laden recycled air. Dumb. I knew to take shallow breaths in a hospital. Spotting a restroom, I pointed. “How about we stop here?”
Ten minutes later I’d used the facilities, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tamed my hair into a tidy ponytail. There wasn’t anything I could do about my clothes, or the smell from sweating through my drug-induced coma. Who knew drugged sweat smelled so bad?
We made our way upstairs without any inconvenient surprises, wrapped up in paper gowns, caps, and booties, and then worked our hands into disposable gloves, all according to the directions posted in the anteroom of the burn unit. I kept my handbag tight to my side under the gown.
“Do you know which bed she’s in?” My voice trembled. It was the first time either of us had spoken since I finished my cleanup in the ladies room, and the tremor surprised me. No warning signals were exploding in my mind, no neck pricklies. Nothing to warrant trembling words.
“End of the hall, left side. The nurse’ll take us to her. Nobody goes in unsupervised.”
Okay, then. Cryptic as usual.
Pierce did some fast-talking with the nurse while I followed a few paces behind them.
Smiling, the nurse lifted a corner of the curtain surrounding Millie’s cubicle. “Ten minutes.”
I inhaled a shaky breath, and slipped through the opening.
Empty bed. No one in
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