Page 96 of Paternal Instincts
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The hallway outside Imogen’s room was vacant. The Davis and Walsh families were nowhere in sight. One of the constables stood outside the closed doorway to Imogen’s room, looking bored out of his skull.
“They’ve moved the families to a private waiting room.” The young officer indicated with a hitched chin down a hallway.
I thanked him and found the room full of quiet tension. The fighting might have stopped, but the room vibrated with animosity. Benedict and Bess sat on one sofa near a vending machine. Ronald and Diane occupied another. Odelia sorted through pods for a Keurigmachine in a makeshift kitchen set up off to the side. Jordyn sat on the coffee table between the feuding grandparents as though preventing war as she scowled at her iPad.
Costa, Nixon, and Flynn were not in the room, and I suspected they had needed to separate them from the grandparents to keep peace.
The instant Jordyn saw me, she bounced to her feet and approached.
“Any news?”
“She’s in surgery. Hasn’t been conscious, and I don’t know how serious her wounds are. Her parents just showed up, so Aslan is chatting with them. Where’s Flynn? I need to collect DNA from him and Ronald, then I’m sending this to the lab so we can get some freaking answers.”
“He went with Ruiz to get coffee in the cafeteria. Said he didn’t want this shit.” She motioned to the Keurig that Odelia seemed to have sorted out. “My guess is he didn’t want to deal with this bunch.” She vaguely gestured to the grandparents.
“And Nixon?”
“They let him in to see Imogen. He promised to keep his cool.”
I stared at the test kits, then the door. “We really need to interview her. What are the chances they let us in, too?”
“Slim. Your little sneak attack earlier pissed the doctor off.”
“Goddammit, we have a missing child.”
“I know, Quaid.”
“And that woman knows more than she’s telling us. Her hands were—”
“I requested they take samples. It’s going to take time.”
“We don’t have time.”
Red tape with police work was the bane of my existence. It hindered progress at the worst moments. Since there wasn’t much else to do—adoctor’s order superseded my need for an interview—I convinced Ronald to provide us with a cheek swab.
The man was agreeable, if not insulted by the request.
I decided to wait for Flynn in the hallway and browsed the contents of the file folder to keep myself occupied. Aslan had stuck Madison’s note on the inside flap, and despite the full trust I had in my husband, I couldn’t temper the tiny twinge of jealousy when remembering his life before we got together. The countless hookups, the endless flirting, the nameless bed partners.
The stab of jealousy was momentary and fleeting, but it existed even now. Aslan was as committed to me as I was to him. I knew that in my heart. Our past didn’t dictate our future. It didn’t define us as people. If that were true, I would forever be a pathetic, insecure loser who never thought himself worthy of anyone, but I had Aslan now. We were having a baby. Our lives were on track. It was good. Better than good. It was perfect.
I peeled Madison’s note from the folder and tossed it in a nearby garbage pail.
The FedEx envelope stared up at me. The same uniform sticker on the front with the Davises’ address printed in capital letters. No return address. That spot was left blank. The bold orange and navy FedEx Express emblem took up the left-hand side. A clean, white envelope.
Something niggled at the back of my mind.
A familiar voice interrupted my perusal, and I glanced up as Costa approached with two paper takeout cups. “If I knew you would be back so soon, I’d have grabbed you something.”
He indicated the paper cup with a tea bag string dangling from where it was caught under the plastic lid. “This one’s for Jordyn.” He held the second aloft. “This one is black like my miserable soul and without powdered chemicals, or I’d offer it to you.”
“Gross. I’m fine. Somehow, I doubt hospital coffee is good no matter how much milk and powdered chemicals I put in it.”
Costa chuckled. “Truth. I’ll let you know.” He sipped and cringed. “Well, it’s not hot and has a bitter, burnt, ashy taste.”
“Hard pass, but you enjoy.” I glanced over his shoulder and down the hall. “Where’s Flynn? I need a cheek swab so I can get these to the lab.”
