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“It has to be her,” Kate Danvers whispered fiercely, turning around, eyes watery and so full of hope.
Tucker didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded and glanced away. He wanted it to be Marley—Christ there was a time when that thought consumed him. And yet there was a part of him that was scared shitless at the thought.
He gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t going there. Not now. Not until he knew for sure. And yet the guilt inside him pressed hard, making it tough to focus and breathe, but it was so goddamn hard because he was afraid of losing everything.
He loved Marley’s parents. Of that there was no question. But the Abby factor was pretty much front and center. It was the elephant in the room, and Kate had already tried to bring it up.
While they were waiting in Montreal for their flight, she’d quietly asked him what his feelings were for Abby. He’d politely told her that he didn’t want to discuss Abigail with her, and that he hoped she would understand.
“You’ll have to make a choice,” she said, voice small and shaky.
Tucker had shut down that conversation before it began. In his mind, there was no point until they knew the truth.
The van came to an abrupt halt, and he exhaled. Tucker glanced outside, eyes shielded from the sun by a pair of aviators. He saw some photographers milling about, but it was nothing like it would have been, had this been in the United States. The paparazzi would have been insane.
For one brief moment, he thought of Abby. Of the paparazzi who were no doubt circling The Essex House like a bunch of vultures. But he’d heard from Coop, and he knew his cousin was with her.
Cooper wo
uld look after her until he got back.
“You ready to do this?” Jack asked quietly, yanking on his ball cap, pulling it low over his eyes.
Tucker cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the van and a middle aged man approached them. Wearing business casual clothes, his bald head shone under the sun and he smiled hesitantly, offering his hand to Tucker.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Simon. I’m Romero Sanchez, the administrator of this hospital. We’ve been expecting you.”
The man’s English was perfect and his eyes kind. He nodded to Tucker’s brothers and then shook Jason Danvers’ hand before taking a step back and motioning toward the entrance. “Please follow me.”
Like everything else in Havana, the hospital was a little rough around the edges, worn but in a comfortable sort of way, with a hint of an era long gone. The palm trees and colorful paintings brightened up the place, and overhead large fans slowly turned, stirring the air.
Their somber group trailed behind Mr. Sanchez, and a few minutes later, they found themselves gathered in what looked like a conference room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Marley’s mother nearly rushed the man. “When can I see my daughter? Please. You have to let us see her.”
The woman was running low on fuel, and Tucker knew she was going to lose it if things weren’t sorted out soon.
Mr. Sanchez patted her hand. “I understand. But there are some things we need to do before that can happen. Procedures as it were.” He glanced over to Tucker. “We haven’t made a positive ID yet.”
Kate tugged on his arm and her desperation was palpable. “But I don’t…we were told she was here. I need to see her.”
“Please,” Mr. Sanchez said kindly. “Let us get everything in a row…How do you Americans say? Our ducks so to spea,k and then you can see her. I promise you Mrs. Danvers, we are wanting to make sure that everything is in order. Now if the husband can follow me, we’ll take care of a few of those things, and then we can proceed.”
Tucker waited, his face set in stone, his expression blank. But inside. Christ inside, his body was raging. He was all kinds of fear and frustration, and he just wanted to get this done and over with. He thought of Abby, but almost immediately pushed it away. He couldn’t go there right now.
Not yet.
“Can I get any of you coffee or tea?” Mr. Sanchez asked.
“No,” Jack said, stepping forward. “Maybe some water?”
“Of course. I will have some brought to you.” Mr. Sanchez turned to Tucker. “Let’s go, yes?”
They walked in silence and took an elevator up and exited on the fourth floor. “Is she here?” Tucker asked.
“Please come,” Sanchez said, and Tucker could do nothing but follow in the man’s footsteps, aware that were many eyes on him.
Mr. Sanchez stopped at a door several feet from the nurses’ station and gave a quick knock before entering, gesturing for Tucker to follow. It was a small room with dull grey on the walls and a large fake palm tree in the corner. A framed photo of a boat was the only splash of color in the room.
