AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Not quite there, but close to,” I confess. “Is Fletcher putting surveillance on her?”
“Yeah. This man,” Blake reveals, pulling out a photo from the envelope. It’s the guy who fetched her from my room that night.
“Twenty-four-seven?”
“Not really. She often has night or early morning shifts at the hospital. The man usually skips those hours. Even during her normal-hour shifts, sometimes he’s assigned somewhere else. Fletcher isn’t exactly overflowed with cash at the moment. So he’s starting to cut corners.”
“He always cuts corners,” I banter.
“I guess you’re right.”
“You’ve got other photos of her?”
“Just look inside, Clay.”
I empty the contents of the envelope.
My God. There she is, with her son. Their eyes are almost identical, and so are their smiles. She’s wearing the jade bracelet there.
My heart is engulfed with desire that I don’t recognize. It’s hasty, it’s rash, and it’s uncontainable.
“She’s a stunner,” Blake comments. “By the way, she usually goes by Isabelle, or Iz.”
Isabelle. I like that.
“Anyone following me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“The next time she’s not watched, call me.”
“Okay.” Blake gets up and pats me on the shoulder. It seems that everyone is wishing me good luck today.
“Am I making a mistake?”
Blake waves me goodbye.
I fling my head back, brooding over what I’m about to get myself into.
My eyes gradually lower, catching sight of the photo lying on the table. The mother and son stare back at me and something shifts in my chest. The crevasse has opened up again, deeper than ever. Isabelle and her son aren’t going to mend the crack, but for once, I don’t feel the need to hide it.
9
ISABELLE
My shift was supposed to end a couple of hours ago. But into my tenth hour, dealing with staff shortage, I’m still on my feet, trying to be a nurse, a mother, a counselor, and a peacekeeper—often at once.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Winter is always a busy time in the ER—severe flu and other respiratory illnesses being the most common culprits. But right now, the two-year-old girl crying in the temporary bed in front of me is battling with a different kind of emergency.
“She could’ve swallowed anything!” the mother cries.
“How long ago was it?” I ask.
“Probably an hour or two. Where’s the doctor?” she insists.
“The doctor will be here soon. In the meantime, we’ll take some X-rays.” I’m really hoping the girl hasn’t ingested something seriously dangerous, like batteries or sharp objects.
