46
Deputy Luke Hale
The elevator chimed on the fourth floor.
Luke Hale stood outside Sara Parker’s door, one hand resting near his belt out of habit. He’d slept maybe four hours in two days and looked it.
Not again. Not on his watch.
The elevator doors slid open.
Hats. Handbags. Perfume.
A parade of floral prints and purpose marched toward him.
Luke blinked once.
The book club ladies.
Willow Harkens led the charge, bakery box in hand. Emma, Leigh, and Mrs. Kinsey followed with flowers, books, and a knitted throw.
Luke stepped forward. “Ma’am—this floor is restricted?—”
“Oh hush,” Willow said, waving him off. “We’re here to see Sara. Sheriff Scott cleared it with the charge nurse and Dr. Calder.”
Mrs. Kinsey gave him a once-over. “Son, you look like you need a sandwich.”
Luke opened his mouth. “Ma’am, I?—”
The elevator chimed again.
Caitlin stepped out, a soft blue scarf wrapped around her neck. Rosie trotted beside her on a leash, vest on like she had official business.
Caitlin took in the scene and smiled. “It’s okay, Hale. They’re cleared.”
Luke exhaled. “Yes, ma’am.”
Willow winked. “Don’t worry. We’ll behave.”
Emma elbowed her. “No we won’t.”
They swept past him in a wave of perfume and sugar and small-town determination.
Luke stepped aside, still a little stunned.
He looked back at Sara’s door.
And stayed right where he was.
Inside Sara’s Room
Sara was propped against her pillows, trying to ignore how sterile the room felt.
Her hand froze halfway to her water when five women and one dog came rolling in.
Her chest tightened.
Then Rosie padded up to the bed and pressed her head against Sara’s leg.
