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FIRST COME THEbeeping sounds. Then the antiseptic smell hits me. I open my eyes and look down. I’m dressed in a pink gown, and one of my arms is connected to an IV catheter. I’m in the hospital. And I have no memory of how I got here.
A nurse with muscular arms walks into the room with a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re up,” she says.
“What happened?” I ask her.
“You fractured your skull on the concrete pavement and have a moderate concussion and seven stitches on the back of your head.”
Now that she mentioned it, my head is radiating pain. Warm, hot pain, as if I were bleeding, even though I’m not anymore, according to her, since I now have stitches.
I lift my hand to feel them, but all I feel is gauze on the back of my head and Mom’s charm bracelet still dangling from my wrist.
It comes back to me: the taxi.
“The doctor ran blood tests,” she says. “Some of your levels are off.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You haven’t been eating or drinking enough,” she responds. “That’s why you fainted.”
“I wasn’t hit by a taxi?” I say.
“No, but the driver called for an ambulance after you collapsed on the sidewalk,” she says.
So it wasn’t the Cadells who tried to take me out. It was ED. He’s why I haven’t eaten anything since I stepped foot in New York, except for a bite of bagel.
I look out the hospital window and see that it’s dark out. “What time is it?” I ask the nurse.
“Seven, you’ve been sleeping all day,” she says. “A visitor’s been waiting to see you. I told him he needed to wait until you woke up so I could take your vitals.”
A visitor?
Maybe it’s Paul. The real one. Maybe he and Anthony are back from North Carolina now. But how would he know that I’m here? It’s probably Jason. He finally tracked me down after I ducked out of the FBI headquarters. Hospitals are always the first place they look.
The nurse takes my vitals. “You’re stable. You need to eat and drink now,” she says, pointing to the tray of food in front of me—some kind of cheese sandwich, red Jell-O, and apple juice. “I’ll get your visitor.”
She leaves the room, and a moment later, Eddie appears at the door.
My heart leaps into my throat—it’s not safe for him here! How did he even know where I was? And where’s Sarah?
“Hi,” I say, uncertain.
“Hi,” he says, walking over to me and lowering his body into the chair beside my bed. “It’s not the Four Seasons in Santa Barbara, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I’d all but forgotten we were supposed to be at the Four Seasons this weekend, celebrating our second anniversary.
He takes my hands in his. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“The hospital called me. They checked your purse, saw I was the last one you called on the burner, and tried me. I dropped Sarah off at my parents’ and caught the first flight here.”
“Is it safe for you to be here with me?” I ask him.
“It might not be yet, but I couldn’t leave you alone in a hospital in another state,” he says, choking up.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful beyond measure to see him again.
“Paul’s back from North Carolina. He looked into baby Sally.” His voice sounds ominous. “She didn’t die of SIDS.”
