Page 34 of Cruel Hearts

Denton waits until we reach his car to ask, “Did you see her?”

“No, but a bunch of doctors were doing their rounds and I think I have the keycode to her room, maybe. I need to go back inside.”

“There’s no way. This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox. How do you think you’ll do that without getting arrested for trespassing?”

I lean my butt against his dirty car. “I have no idea. All I know is I have to try. She’s spent five years of her life in this hellhole.”

Denton briefly rests his hand on my shoulder and says, “Maybe she needs to be here.”

“Maybe she does, but she flipped out because Ash took me. If she can see I’m back...”

“After touring this place and checking out all the security, she may not be worth the risk, even if Zane will listen to her. I’m broke, but I’m not in prison.”

I think of Zarah’s kind eyes. The way she laughed at me the night I paid for our meals at the Sweet Apple pub. The one hundred dollar bill she shoved into my pocket when she hugged me.

The bruises all over her body.

The way Zane would say her name.

No. I won’t help Zarah for Zane. He doesn’t deserve it...but Zarah is my friend and I care about her. I won’t let her suffer because I’m scared. I lived in hell for the past five years, too, but I was fortunate to escape. Zarah will not be so lucky. Ash has power of attorney, and he’ll never let her go. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Denton nods. He was Kagan’s good friend and business partner, after all. He could love Zarah like his own daughter. Maybe he doesn’t want to understand, but he does.

Pulling his keys out of his pocket, he says, “Okay. Wait here. Five minutes. I’ll create a distraction. Be prepared to get in and get out. If you’re caught, I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk you out of it. I don’t have enough cash to pay bail.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just be ready.”

He leaves me standing in the aisle of the parking lot, the buttery sun doing its best to keep me from shivering. I won’t let myself think he abandoned me, but that’s exactly how I feel watching his car merge into the traffic on the busy street.

There are cameras everywhere, and they watch me, their beady red eyes boring into my body. I need to get a hold of myself or I’ll snap. Going crazy when someone wants you dead makes their job easier.

People visiting their loved ones leisurely enter and exit the building. Awkwardly, I loiter near a car, hoping I look like I’m waiting for someone. A few minutes later, a shrill siren pierces the air.

That’s my cue.

I rush across the parking lot, push through the glass doors, and step into the lobby.

An organized chaos has taken over.

Nurses are running every which way.

Security guards urgently bark orders into walkie-talkies and cell phones.

The receptionist who greeted us holds a telephone close to her lips and “bomb threat” tumbles out of her mouth.

That’s what Denton did.

Brilliant.

Lowering my head and not making eye contact with anyone, I hurriedly walk toward the VIP wing. A young woman rushing out of an office leaves the door wide open in her haste, her face pasty white. She doesn’t acknowledge me. I dart inside, yank a white lab coat off a coat tree in the corner and grab a clipboard that’s laying on the messy desk.

Scurrying down the crowded corridor, I pray no one notices me.

The PA system repeats over and over, “Code Green. Repeating, Code Green. All personnel report to their designated positions. Repeating, all personnel report to their designated positions. Code Green. Code Green.”

I stop at Zarah’s door.

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