Page 93 of The Girl Who Survived

“What?” he whispered, and slowly shook his head against the pillow. “Marlie? No . . . Why?”

“I got a text and a phone call. Weird ones. Just the other night. It sounded like . . . I mean I thought it might be her.”

“A prank.”

“Maybe.”

“What did she say?”

“She’s alive.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s alive,” he repeated. “Then it wasn’t Marlie, because she would have IDed herself, right? And said something like,I’malive. Notshe’salive.”

“I thought about that.”

“Maybe they—whoever called—they weren’t talking about Marlie.”

“Who, then?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, moving on the bed and grimacing in pain. “You tell me.”

“I can’t,” she said. “I thought maybe you knew something about it.”

“Me?” His gaze sharpened as he understood. “Why? Oh, wait. Now I get it! You think I left you the message? Because I was released? Out of prison? You thought I would play some sick mind game with you, is that it? Give me a fuckin’ break.”

Again, Kara heard a noise outside the door, footsteps coming closer. She froze. What if the cop was back? How would she explain herself and get out? Or what if a nurse or doctor came in to check on Jonas? She couldn’t be discovered here in his room. Didn’t want to be found out. Not yet. At any second her empty bed could be discovered and if so, Jonas’s room would be one of the first places the staff would search for her. She’d made her need to see him well known to the nursing staff. That had been a mistake.

And what about the police? The nurse had told her the cops were going to return to ask her questions. She was out of time. “I’ll be back,” she promised, but he didn’t seem to be listening, was sleeping again. Carefully, she cracked the door, peered into the hallway and slid out, past the empty chair. She passed a man in a wheelchair rolling down the hallway and the semicircular nurse’s desk where the same nurse sat, back turned to her.

Kara moved noiselessly to the elevators just as the nurse clicked off her phone and glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze met Kara’s and she stood up quickly. “Can I help you?” she asked, her eyebrows knitting.

Kara froze.

Silently prayed the elevator doors would open. Shoving back her chair, she stood and ripped off her headset as she rounded the desk, phone still in hand. “This floor is off-limits to visitors at this time.”

Kara thought about coming up with a quick lie but knew she would be found out. “I’m leaving now.”

A soft ding announced the arrival of the elevator car. Thank God!

“What were you doing up here?” the nurse asked as another nurse, a tall male with a wrestler’s physique and concerned expression, appeared from a patient’s room.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

“I was just trying to visit my brother.”

The woman said, “But it looks like you’re a patient.”

Her bandages! Kara had forgotten the gauze covering her stitches. Crap!

“Your brother? And who is that?” The nurse glanced down the hallway to the empty chair at the door to Jonas’s room just as the elevator door opened and Kara, heart thumping, slipped inside. “Wait a sec—”

Too late. Kara slapped the button for the first floor, then punched the door closed as the nurse approached, already speaking into her phone.

Thankfully the door closed and with a clunk the car started to descend. But she’d seen the nurse calling someone, maybe because of her, maybe not, but she didn’t want to deal with anyone. Not a doctor, not a hospital administrator and certainly not anyone from security, or the police for that matter. She thought about trying to stop the elevator on the second floor and using the stairs, but it was too late. Maybe she had enough time to—

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