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He eased away from her and took a half step back.
She took a few short breaths. “How did you bump your head?”
“What?”
“You’ve got a bump at your hairline.” She reached up to touch it, but he yanked his head back.
“Banged it on impact. It’s fine. Did you get a car?”
She was still dazed by his sudden reappearance and confounded as to how she was going to deal with his fresh knowledge of the box and its contents. Her thoughts were darting helter-skelter, overwhelming her with calamitous implications. She willed them to slow down and concentrate on what he had asked her. In stops and starts, she explained the arrangements that had been made.
“Wilson’s not coming back?”
“No. He was as relieved to ditch me as I was to be ditched.” Her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came questions. “How did you know we were here?”
“You mentioned that Wilson was taking you to breakfast, and the lady running the admissions desk at the ER told me this is the only place open today. I drove over in Marlene White’s car, saw you through the window, parked, and waited to see what would happen. When Wilson left without you,
and you didn’t return to the table, I hurried around back. Found the delivery door unlocked.”
“Very resourceful.”
“Determined.”
“Determined to chase me down? Why?”
“Why do you think? I want that number. I want to take another look, see what contraband I flew in here last night.”
“It’s not contraband. It’s blood samples.”
“Then what’s the harm in giving me the number?”
“It’s supposed to be kept airtight.”
“Good argument, just the right amount of logic, but I don’t believe you.”
She glared at him and remained silent.
“Okay, have it your way,” he said. “How long before the car man gets here?”
“Wilson estimated fifteen to twenty minutes, half of which have elapsed.”
He glanced behind him at the locked door. “Not long then before you’ll be missed,” he said, musing aloud.
“Missed? I won’t be missed at all, Mr. Mallett.”
“From here on, why don’t you call me Rye?”
“I’m happy to. Go to hell, Rye. But first get out of my way. I’m leaving. If you don’t allow me to leave, I’ll—”
She didn’t even have to finish before he raised his hands in surrender, stepped aside, and tilted his head toward the door. “You want to go, go.”
She looked toward the locked door, then back at him. “What’s the hitch?”
“No hitch. Bye-bye. Been nice knowing you.”
She stayed where she was. “Why the foreboding undertone?”
“Did it sound foreboding?”
