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Behind the desk sat a man, eyes glued to a computer screen. Large wire-framed glasses magnified his eyes, but with his thick dark hair, Tucker was guessing he wasn’t much older than himself.
When Tucker entered the office, the man pushed back out of his seat and hastily made his way around the desk to shake Tucker’s hand.
“Mr. Simon. I’m Doctor Garcia. I have some things that I need you to look at.”
Tucker waited while the doctor opened a cabinet beneath the window and retrieved a plastic bag. Carefully, he opened it and laid out the items on his desk.
“Do these belong to your wife?”
Tucker moved closer, mouth clamped together so tight that pain radiated up his jaw.
There was a navy satchel, a bit worn around the edges with a broken clasp, and a long strap that was frayed. There was pink brush, missing some of its teeth, and still holding on to a few long strands of blond hair. A tube of clear lip gloss. A box of tissues. A box of surgical gloves. And a battered, worn-out, black leather wallet.
And a long, thin gold chain from which dangled a platinum wedding band. It was plain. Unassuming. Kind of like its owner.
The sight of it made his blood run cold.
“Jesus,” he whispered moving closer.
The wallet was open and the ID plain and visible. Marley stared back at him, her DMV photo unsmiling, which was pretty much what his looked like. Hell, they used to joke that she looked like a prisoner of war and that he looked like a terrorist.
Jesus. Christ. This was Marley’s.
“Where is she?” His voice was harsh as he looked up at the men. “Where is my wife?”
Mr. Sanchez spoke, his voice calm and reassuring. “So you can confirm that these are your wife’s belongings?”
Tucker shook his head. “Yes. But I don’t understand.” Christ, that was an understatement. “None of this makes sense. Where is she and what the hell happened to her? Where are the people that she was with? Where’s the goddamn plane?”
“Mr. Simon.” It was Sanchez speaking now. “Your wife came to us less than a week ago. She was hit by a vehicle here in Havana and brought in. Unconscious, with multiple injuries. We were only able to ID her because of these items.”
None of what he was hearing made any kind of sense. “I need to see her.” He tried to push past Mr. Sanchez, but the doctor’s words stopped him.
“Mr. Simon. Your wife has had some serious trauma. You must be prepared.”
“What kind of trauma?”
“There was some swelling on the brain, so we had to cut into her skull to alleviate the pressure. We’ve put her in a protective coma, a…a drug induced coma, and we are very excited at how she’s responding. The swelling has gone down, and we feel that we will be able to bring her out of this coma state very soon, but…”
This was killing him. “But?”
The doctor moved toward the door. “Come with me. But please be prepared. There is swelling and bruising and bandages—“
“I understand,” Tucker interrupted.
He followed the men up one more flight of stairs to the ICU, and they didn’t stop until they reached the last room at the end of a narrow hall. Mr. Sanchez nodded. “Please. You can go.”
Tucker didn’t wait. He pushed open the door and nodded to the nurse near the bed. She glanced behind him and then moved out of the way, disappearing into the hall and leaving him alone.
Tucker stared at the woman on the bed. God, she looked so small. So alone. He stared at her for so long that his eyes burned. He should feel something. Something. Shouldn’t he?
Slowly, he made his way closer, noticing the tube in her arm and a long thicker tube in her mouth. Beside her were several machines, one that allowed her to breathe and one that monitored her heart rate…or maybe her brainwaves.
Shit, did any of that matter?
Tucker took that last step until he was standing over the bed and for a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing out heavily as his brain caught up to what his eyes could see.
Part of her head was heavily bandaged, while the other part of her skull had been shaved and cut open. The bruising along her jaw and neck was pretty graphic, and her nose was broken as well. The swelling still pretty substantial.
