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"Can you tell us the name of the specialist?"
She thinks for a moment before speaking carefully. "No, I only suggested seeing a specialist. I believe your father"—she looks at me—"was somehow involved in finding the right person. Maybe it’s time to talk to them?"
That brings a reaction out of Lilly. She locks eyes with Madeline. "Thank you for everything you have done for me."
Madeline genuinely smiles at the girl in my arms. "I would do it again. Take care of yourself, Lilly." Then, she looks at me, still smiling, but with a serious gaze. "And you take care of her also."
This woman truly cares about Lilly, and I am grateful for that.
"I intend to. Thank you." I nod at her.
The driveback to the hotel is quiet. Lilly hasn’t said a word since thanking Madeline, and I am back to feeling lost.
We’ve finally gotten some answers, but those have also sparked more questions. Madeline’s last words haunt me.If he gets back on your trail, he will find you.
In the hospital, Lilly let me hold her. She needed me, but I can’t assume that she still wants that even if I need her touch just as much. This is such an emotional cluster fuck. I remind myself that I can’t mistake her need for comfort for anything else; it’s just a need for support. Denielle would’ve done the same thing for her.
We getready for bed in silence. Lilly is changing in the bathroom, and when she is done, I go to brush my teeth.
Her bedside lamp is turned off when I return, and she is facing away from me. For a second, I stand there, no clue what to do. Should I say something?
I decide to give her time and wait until morning. I settle in my own bed and turn the light off, but sleep won’t come. I have flashbacks from the night before we left for this trip. My mind is racing. I think about everything we found out today, my feelings for Lilly, our situation at home. I stare at the ceiling as if it holds the answers. Turning one way, then the other, I reposition my pillow about a hundred times. If Lilly weren’t in the room, I’d hurl the fucking thing across the room out of frustration.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My phone buzzeswith incoming texts and calls all night. Hank wants to know what the fuck happened. This was an important meeting for the expansion project, and I blew it. Whatever. It’s not like I need the money. I have enough to live ten lifetimes. The sole reason for this is to build relationships, and if my projects make them money, they’re happy and bring me more business. I text back that I’ll call the guy in the morning and to not get his panties in a wad. I imagine Hank’s beet-red face reading my reply, and a smirk forms on my lips. Tonight, I have other priorities.
After downloading the hospital surveillance footage to my local server, I back out of the system. No reason to be in there longer than necessary. I watch the videos several times and find a few more angles to get a good look at Lilly and the guy with her. She has grown up, and I can’t deny that she looks stunning. Lilly looks healthy and strong, like she’s been working out a lot. I remember that she used to like gymnastics as a little girl. I wonder if she still does.
Next, I scan the guy with her. He is tall with short, dark hair and broad shoulders. I can see the muscles moving in his arms and back while he drags Lilly out of there. He must be important because I can’t imagine just anyone being with her there. I grind my teeth; it will take some time to track them, and I’m not very patient at the moment. Maybe I’ll try a different angle to get to the information I need.
I pull up Margery’s file. Over the years, I have been tracking everyone that had come in contact with Lilly while she was in the hospital. Most nurses have moved on to other hospitals, including the one that mainly took care of Lilly, but Margery stayed put. Little does the rest of the staff know, Margery has been struggling since her back surgery five years ago. Every few months, she takes a detour to the pharmacy after her shift and stocks up on fentanyl. Granted, I was a little shocked when she moved on from morphine about two years ago, but I noticed that she is stocking up less, which means she makes it last longer. How she gets it is none of my concern; if she’s stealing it or bribing someone, that fact is not important to me.
How to do it? How to do it? Email, text message, or phone call. I tap my index finger against my chin. I decide on a quick phone call. I’ve wanted to use my latest voice-distortion software forever, and for a simple prank call to Margot or Julian, it’s too expensive. Plus, Margot would be up my ass for days.
It’s almost four in the morning, which will hopefully also help my cause. I set everything up and dial Margery’s cell number. Just for fun, I don’t go with the creepy voice but a stuffy British female accent. Being on call all the time, she has to answer her phone.
"This is Margery." She sounds sleepy.
"Hello, Margery."
"Who is this?" She is already more alert.
"That’s not important, dear Margery. What is important is that I know your little secret."
"Wha— How— Who?" she splutters.
Oh, this will be even easier than I thought.
"Oh, Margery, I was so sorry to see you resort to such measures after your back surgery, but I do understand that you can’t allow the pain to get the best of you. Not in your line of work."
She understands my insinuation, and when Margery doesn’t say anything, I continue.
"You had a visitor tonight."
That gets a reaction, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
"So, my dear, as I see it, we have two choices."
