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63
THE PARAMEDICS ARRIVE, pushing through the open door, and Jess moves backward out of their way. They’re a mass of movement around Griffin, relaying messages to each other, putting a mask over his face, pushing air into his lungs.
Jess is stunned to see Griffin like this: unconscious, close to death. A uniformed cop appears by her side. She’s ready for the arrest, but he’s oblivious, asking her questions about what happened.
“My friend Nav was supposed to come over,” she gabbles. “I don’t know if he did.”
“Full name?” the policeman asks, notepad poised in his hand.
“Dr. Navin Sharma—he works in oncology at the General. He might still be on shift.”
He makes a note, then looks up as a woman comes into the room. Her face is stern, eyes locked on Jess. She recognizes her: it’s the detective from the hospital.
The woman moves forward, blocking her exit.
“Jessica Ambrose.” The detective gets straight to the point. “I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Patrick Ambrose on Monday the twenty-fifth of January.” The uniformed cop backs off, confused. The detective jerks Jess’s hands away from her sides, fastening cuffs in front of her. “You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something that you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
She pulls her away, out the door and up the metal stairs, away from Griffin, but Jess resists.
“Please,” she pleads. “Just let me know that Nate’s okay.”
One of the paramedics goes to push past them on the stairs, and the detective gets his attention.
“How is he?” she asks.
He pauses. “We’ve given him an intramuscular dose of Naloxone. He’s responded well, so we haven’t needed to intubate,” he says. “We’ll take him in shortly. They’ll probably follow up with an IV at the hospital.”
“So he’s going to be all right?” Jess asks in a rush.
The paramedic nods. “Looks that way.” He looks to the detective. “He doesn’t have the hallmarks of your usual intravenous drug user, although we found a needle mark on his forearm.”
“He’s not,” Jess blurts out. “He didn’t do this to himself. The floor …” she tries, desperate to make them listen. “He knew …”
The paramedic gives her an apathetic look and carries on his way to get something from the ambulance.
The detective pulls on Jess’s hands, and they follow on up the stairs and out into the parking lot, where a police car awaits. As they go, Jess remembers back to where Griffin had been lying. The letters on the floor had been obliterated, scuffed out by the paramedic’s shoes.
PART 3
CHAPTER
64
WHEN NOAH APPEARS in the doorway of her office, she knows from the look on his face that it’s bad. But Nate? She almost can’t believe that her strong, no-nonsense brother has been attacked again.
“The hospital says he’s going to be fine,” he adds quickly. “But I’ll get your car, we’ll go and see him now.”
Cara grabs her coat and they rush out of the station. But before they get on the road, Cara stops him. She puts a hand on his arm, and Deakin looks at her.
“Noah,” Cara says. She’s forcing herself to speak slowly, her whole body in panic mode. “I need you to do me a favor. Something I only trust you to do.”
He sees her expression and looks worried. “Anything.”
* * *
“You’re kidding me. We can’t just up and leave!”
Cara stands in front of her husband at the restaurant, Deakin hovering in the background.
