Page 19 of Day Shift

“They know nothing about her situation. She could’ve been desperate, scared…” I sighed, thinking of her lying there in the ICU, unaware of the circus her life had become.

“Yeah, but since when did the media care about the why? It’s all about the spectacle,” Atticus said, shaking his head.

“And now, that asshole has turned her into a target by asking viewers to play detective,” I said.

Niles continued, “As far as we know, she has not regained consciousness, and no one has come forward recognizing her. Remember, if you have any information about this woman, please contact local authorities at the hotline number below.”

More images of the crash site and Jane Doe being wheeled into the hospital appeared on the screen, a blatant invasion of her privacy.

“This is bullshit,” I growled. “He’s got no right. Those were taken once she was in our care, during her treatment. That’s confidential.”

“Yeah, and there’s no respect for her condition or the circumstances. It’s like they’ve already tried and convicted her,” Atticus scoffed, then jabbed the remote to turn off the TV. “She’s being treated like a criminal before she even wakes up.”

“Has anyone called legal about this?” I asked, already pulling out my phone, ready to make the call myself.

Atticus nodded. “I called them the moment I saw what was going on. They’re on it, but you know how these things go. Freedom of the press gives these vultures a lot to hide behind, and public interest validates what they’re doing.”

I pocketed my phone, clenching my fists at my sides. “It’s not right. She’s not even awake to defend herself, and they’re painting her as some criminal mastermind.”

“We’ve done all we can for the moment,” Atticus said, motioning toward the door. “Let’s get back to work. Patients need us more than we need to watch this garbage.”

Nodding, I followed him out of the break room. The images we’d seen of Jane Doe were burned into my mind. With every step I took toward the ED, I became more and more pissed off. This media storm was going to be a battle, and I was ready to fuck up one Niles Johnson.

Chapter ten

Since attempting to visit Anastasia in the hospital, I had thrown myself into Volkovi Notchi business, forcing myself to carry out my father’s orders. I had a lot to accomplish—including setting up new drug routes and establishing a private communication system between our contacts in Tacoma and my father in Russia. My effort to distract myself from Anastasia’s condition was relentless, but it felt like I was moving through a fog.

The day became a blur of phone calls, meetings, and secret deals. I knew the importance of my work, the necessity of maintaining our operations, but my heart wasn’t in it. Every task was tainted by the gnawing worry for my sister.

Anastasia’s car crash had left her unconscious and in serious condition, and her identity was unknown to the hospital staff. I wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, to be there when she woke up, but I couldn’t risk it. Visiting her would mean identifying myself, leading authorities to ask questions about our ties to the Russian mafia. It was a risk I couldn’t afford to take.

Frustration simmered beneath my calm exterior. I checked the news obsessively, searching for any mention of the mysterious Jane Doe. Each report was a reminder of my helplessness. The image of her lying in that hospital bed ate at me. I was torn between my obligations to our father and the desperate need to protect my sister.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to focus. There would come a time when I could be with Anastasia, when I could explain everything and make sure she was safe. Until then, I had to play my part, maintain the facade, and keep our enemies at bay.

Desperate for more direct information, I put my hacking skills to use, infiltrating the hospital’s network to access employee data. After some thorough research, I identified a nursing tech, Maria Hobbs, who worked in the ICU, and decided she was my in. I was well-versed in the art of bribery. Maria had a lot of debt and could use the money. I sent her a few anonymous messages, stealthily introducing myself and making sure she knew I could reach her anytime, anywhere. I then wired a hefty sum of money to her checking account.

More where that came from if you provide me with information on one of your patients. The Jane Doe from the wreck out on Fox Island. Nothing you can’t easily do, nothing that would jeopardize your job, I texted her. I knew that would get her attention.

It took her a while to respond. How much money are we talking about?

Double what I sent you every time you do what I ask, I replied.

It didn’t take two seconds before she was all in.

I instructed her to send me a copy of Jane Doe’s complete case history and pictures of her too. I wanted to see every wound on her body.

The first photo Maria sent shattered me. Anastasia was hooked up to a ventilator, bruises marring her skin. It hit like a physical blow. This was all my fault. If not for my detainment by the FBI, Anastasia wouldn’t have rushed to our Tacoma estate. She must have flown in because I hadn’t met up with her. She knew I’d never miss seeing her on our birthday, and it was out of character for me not to keep her informed. When she reached the estate, she must have panicked, seeing all the police tape and the house ransacked, thinking something awful had happened to me. And then she had fled because she didn’t want to answer questions about our family.

The guilt was crushing, but I couldn’t change the past. I had to focus on helping Ana as much as I could right now. With Maria on board as my eyes and ears, I could keep close tabs on Ana and devise the best strategy to extricate her from this situation. For now, I had to bide my time and wait for the right moment to act.

Chapter eleven

Daylight was already spilling through the windows when I started my shift the next day. The ED hummed and hustled, but despite the constant rush, a part of my mind was elsewhere, stuck in the ICU where my Jane Doe had been the last few days.

By midday, I’d handled everything from broken bones to a kid who’d swallowed a coin. Once I was able to snatch a moment amidst the madness, I made a beeline for the ICU. A Tacoma PD officer now sat by her door, just as Emily had forewarned. The officer, a broad-shouldered guy, eyed me as I approached.

“Good afternoon,” I nodded, flashing my hospital badge without breaking stride. “Just checking in on the patient.”

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