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“All finished?” The FBI agent standing near Emerson’s gate is brusque.
“Yes,” Leo says. “Go about your business.”
The agent shakes his head, mumbling something under his breath about protocol. They should have known Leo would insist on going. He wasn’t going to wait another second to see if I was all right.
We go outside the gates. Leo’s SUV is waiting off to the side. He came in last, after all the cops, and made them wait so he could go in first.
That’s my brother.
He opens the passenger door for me, helps me in, and reaches for the buckle.
“I can do it,” I protest, but I let him click the buckle into place anyway. “I’m fine.”
“We’ll let the doctors be the judge of that.” Leo closes the door and goes around to the driver’s side. Climbs in. When his hands are on the wheel, his shoulders let down. He’s exhausted.
“The doctors?”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
We go there without stopping anywhere else. One of the police cars escorts us. Leo pulls up to a set of doors in the back. Before I can undo my buckle, his car is surrounded by bodyguards, led by Gerard, Leo’s head of security. Gerard’s face lights up when Leo tells him the news.
Leo walks me inside, safe in the bubble of his people. We move through secure hallways and a waiting room cleared of everyone else. A doctor meets me in a private room in a private wing. This is what it means to go to the hospital as Leo’s sister.
No one is here to photograph me. No one is here to see me but the doctors he’s chosen.
All my worry descends. The stress of being in Emerson’s house when the cops came. The rush to get him out. The way he said he loved me. The way he left. The blood drains out of my face.
“I can stay with you, if you want me to.” Leo probably thinks it’s the doctor who’s made me nervous. She’s a soft-spoken woman with dark hair. Two nurses are with her. “They’re going to ask you questions first.”
“Okay. Yeah.”
Leo sits in a chair by the bed and takes my hand in his. It’s a good thing, probably. I need something to focus on in the hailstorm of questions. All I want are answers. I want to know where Emerson is. But for the next while, I’m the one giving them. They ask me in many different ways if I’ve been assaulted. If I’ve been harmed. If I’ve been raped. No and no and no. I pull my sweater over my head and let them put a stethoscope over my tank top. There’s no evidence of the bite mark from Emerson’s brother, and there are of course no bruises.
Is he still in the ocean?
Is he on land?
Where?
Where?
Where?
Emerson’s not in his house. The FBI agents are there. All those agents are going through his things to make sure they can—
I don’t know. Claim that he kidnapped me? My headache gets worse. The nurses finally force Leo to leave and ask me one more barrage of questions. When they’re finished, he comes back in and sits on the edge of the bed.
I’m less furious now. I’m tired, and I’m afraid for Emerson, and I want him back.
Leo pats my leg under the hospital blanket. “The detectives need to talk to you, Daph. Can you do it now? If you can’t, I’ll tell them to wait.”
My heart tiptoes up to my throat. This part isn’t going to be good, and I just want it to be over. “I can do it now.”
He goes back to the door and beckons them in. Then Leo comes and stands near the bed. He’s not leaving.
A man and a woman in sharp uniforms enter the room. Their faces are set. Neutral. Leo’s is less neutral. This is probably the part that’s been causing him the most pain—wondering what happened to me. His relief that I’m okay isn’t going to erase the fact that he’ll want retribution for this. He’ll want Emerson to pay for what he did. All those sleepless nights. The sick terror of having someone he loves go missing.
I don’t have a way to lie about this. I’ve never been good at lying. It won’t work now.
