Wicked Release by Katana Collins Page B

Jess ducked underneath her jacket and barged through the hospital doors. After a quick check-in with the front desk, she rushed toward the elevators, hitting the button for the fourth floor as she stepped in.
    â€œHold the elevator!” a man called from the other side and Jess hit the open button just in time as Dr. Marc Moore slipped inside. He glanced quickly at Jessica, taking pause with narrowed eyes, sizing her up before pointing in her direction. “Jessica, right?” he asked. “You’re working on my friend Richard Brown’s murder?”
    She nodded as Marc hit the button for the third floor. “I was. I mean, I’m just a photographer, so I don’t really have much to do with the case.”
    He shook his head, shifting his hands into his lab coat pockets. “I heard it was Richard’s girlfriend who did it? And that she’s here in the hospital?” He grunted something that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a cry. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone seriously. My wife, Nancy, tried to set him up with a girl from our church. I didn’t think he even liked her.”
    â€œI’m really sorry, again, for your loss.” He and Dr. Brown were good friends from what she and Sam had discovered last week. This couldn’t be easy for the doctor. “Like I said, I don’t really play much of a part in the investigations after . . . well, after the initial crime scene.”
    The elevator dinged, reaching the third floor. “Yeah. Well, sorry to have unloaded my questions on you. Just haven’t heard much from the detectives on his case since last week.”
    He moved to step out of the elevator and Jess grabbed the elevator door as it started to close, jolting it back open. “I can assure you we—they’re working on it. They’ll be in touch soon.”
    He nodded, taking off down the hall and as she brought her hand back to her side, the elevator closed, going up one more level to the fourth floor.
    Room 428, Jess thought as she walked down the hall toward Zooey’s room. Thoughts swarmed her head like a too-busy hive of bees and the noise was almost as deafening.
    Zooey had survived? It seemed so unlikely, based on what Matt had told her the other day. A suicide attempt, they had claimed—but Jess knew better than to believe that. Sure, when she’d found Zooey in Dr. Brown’s office, Zooey had been scared and sad . . . but she didn’t seem suicidal.
    A large uniformed man stood guard outside Zooey’s room. He was slumped over in a chair, rolls of several chins pressed against his man boobs. Jess fumbled, pulling her ID from her wallet as she approached the room. She held it out for him to see and placed her on hand on the doorknob, waiting for him to wave her through.
    Instead, the man jerked to his feet, nearly dropping her ID in the process. “Ms. Walters,” he said slowly, examining her picture.
    The rap-tap-tap of her toe mimicked the sound of rain falling against the windowpane.
    â€œYou don’t have clearance to see Ms. Devonshire.”
    â€œWhat?” Jess said, grabbing her ID back from the officer. “What are you talking about?”
    He jerked a chin toward her laminated ID. “It says you’re a forensic photographer. That doesn’t give you authority to talk to a person of interest. If anything, you’re communicating with her could cost the DA his case.”
    â€œI don’t need clearance if I’m here simply to talk to a friend. You can come in with me—”
    â€œYou’re simply not allowed in there. I’m sorry.” Only, he didn’t sound sorry. He sounded smug. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something—anything—that she could use to get through that door, yet, not a single thing came to her.
    â€œ She called me. She wants to speak with me. Doesn’t she have the right to request my visit?”
    He