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As I relaxed, I reflected on a conversation I’d had with Lydia the day before. She said that Lillian was doing well, and she had brought up her moving to a safer place. She told me that she had even offered Lillian a loan to help her get situated, but Lilly was determined to stay put.
There was nothing else to do but hope that nothing else happened. Perhaps this next week, we could talk, and I could apologize once again.
I was just about to head back to my room when my cell phone vibrated on the coffee table. I lifted it to see a number I didn’t know and almost sent it to voicemail, but it was odd to get a telemarketing call this late at night; perhaps it was a client with a problem.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Smoke, it’s Booker.”
“Booker? What’s going on? Is everything alright with Jessica?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. I’m calling about someone else.”
“Who?” I asked as the hair on my arms began to rise. I knew it before he spoke again.
“Lillian Rouse.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s at Mercy.”
I grabbed my keys and shoved my feet back into my shoes. “I’m on my way.”
“Okay, I’ll let her know.”
“Did she ask you to call me?”
“No; as soon as I saw her, I remembered that you knew her.”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Do me a favor, and don’t tell Lilly I’m coming.”
