As I prepare to walk out the door, I glance back. I'd planned on days with Henderson. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for. Now go be with your ankle biter. If you want, let me know how she is."
The city streets buzz by the windows of the car. I'm trying to remember every little detail of Paisley's life, all while bargaining with a God I'm not sure I actually believe in.
Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay.
As soon as the Uber pulls up to the emergency department, I know I'm in the right place due to the crush of the crowd. So many photographers and fans. Holy hell, I'm never going to get through this.
I text Anastasia.
I'm outside. I need to get in.
There's extra security, trying to keep the crowd at bay. I put my sunglasses on and hope no one places me. Of all the times for me to be blonde again.
Go around to the Main Entrance loop. The staff door opposite the Women's and Children's Center. Tyree will be there.
Tyree is Jonathan Spencer Maxwell's second security guy. Angus is his first. I'm guessing Angus was in the car, as he usually is. Hell, I think Angus was in the front seat the night Paisley was conceived in the back.
I walk for about a mile before I finally find the door I'm looking for. Turns out, I should have made one left turn instead of making three rights. But finally I see Tyree, who opens the door quickly for me and pulls it shut before I'm barely over the threshold.
"It's a mob out front."
He nods, ever the strong silent type.
"Take me to Paisley. How is she?"
Another nod. Jesus, the silence is killing me. It's a void I cannot stand. "What happened?"
"Some old dude who shouldn't be driving was headed the wrong way on the Long Island Expressway. Plowed right into them. And they won't tell me how she is because I'm not a relative."
"What were they doing out here on Long Island?" Despite having just made the trip myself, I have no idea how far this is from Manhattan. Ten minutes? Three hours? Time no longer makes sense.
"Going to the children's museum out here. Thought it'd be less conspicuous."
I sigh. Jonathan Spencer Maxwell is all about appearing like he's avoiding the limelight while secretly doing things to be seen. Meanwhile, I've been banished forever.
"Who was in the car?" I need to fill the empty space with words, otherwise I'll start screaming. It seems as if we've been walking for three years.
"Phil was driving. Angus, Jon, and Paisley."
My stomach drops, and I'm instantly shaking, terror seizing me.
"Where was Maria?"
"She was in the second car with Ms. Jerome and me. We saw the whole thing." His voice breaks a bit at the end, betraying his composed façade. "The SUV came out of nowhere, I swear."
"Why didn't Maria call me? Why didn't anyone call me?"
"Ms. Jerome said to wait. She needed to plan first. I think she was about to call you when you texted her."
Plan.
On how to sneak me in without being seen.
Oh, this bullshit has got to end.
"Tabitha, it only happened about two hours ago."
