Page 2 of Absent Reason

CHAPTER TWO

Amber Young ran along the corridors of the hospital, terror for Joseph lending speed to her legs. She dodged past the staff there, looking around frantically as she tried to get to the room she was looking for.

Her blonde braid whipped behind her as she ran, her diminutive frame darting through gaps between visitors to the hospital and doctors. She barged into a nurse accidentally, bounced off, and kept running.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" the nurse called out. "I should call security!"

"FBI!" Amber called back, hoping that it would stop any trouble. "Sorry!"

It was still strange saying that, even though she’d worked several cases as an FBI agent now. In her heart, a part of Amber still assumed that she was just a puzzle editor and was almost surprised each time she said it.

Amber looked back and saw that the nurse had stumbled, but she had no time to stop and check if everyone back there was okay. Amber had to keep going. There were people waiting in front of the elevators with a look that said that they'd been waiting for a while, so she plunged into one of the stairwells instead, taking the stairs two at a time as she headed up towards the fourth floor. As she ran, Amber was grateful for all the times she’d run obstacle courses and sprints in her FBI training.

Somewhere in the breakneck run up the concrete staircase, Amber's glasses slipped from her girlish, slightly rounded features. She caught them barely in her left hand, not bothering to set them back in place as she ran on. Her shoes set echoes rattling through the stairwell as she hopped from step to step, determined not to waste even a second.

In spite of her training, Amber was out of breath by the time she reached the fourth floor, but she still didn't slow down. She burst in there, running over to the receptionist's desk. The middle-aged woman there looked up at her with a mix of annoyance and concern. She was plump and dark-haired, wearing a grey cardigan over a severe dark dress.

"I'm sorry, miss, but you can't just barge in here like that," the receptionist said. "What's the emergency?"

"I'm here to see Joseph Connolly," Amber said, trying to get her breath back.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but it isn't visiting hours right now, and in any case he-"

Amber took out her ID, setting it down on the reception desk, where the receptionist could see it.

"I need to see him," she said. This wasn't an FBI case, but right then, she would do whatever it took to make sure that Joseph was okay. "Which room is he in?"

The receptionist blinked, obviously trying to work out what she should do, then looked at her computer screen. "Room 423," she said, pointing down the hall. "But I'm not sure if you're allowed to go in there."

Amber didn't bother to wait for permission. She took off down the hallway, her shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor. She spotted the right room instantly because there were a couple of uniformed police officers standing outside. Amber felt a sudden sense of horror at the sight of them, but she forced herself to keep moving forward.

One of the police officers was middle-aged, with a greying mustache, while the other was younger, taller, and dark-haired. He looked like he was barely out of the academy.

"Ma'am..." the younger police officer began, obviously about to tell her to turn back.

Amber held up her ID, forestalling any attempt to do that after she’d come so far.

"Agent Amber Young, FBI," she said. That wasn't the capacity in which she was here, though. She wasn't rushing to Joseph's bedside because it was her job. She was rushing there because he was her boyfriend, and her heart had felt as though it might break the moment she heard the news.

While the police officers were still trying to work out if they should stop Amber or not, she hurried into the room. Right then, the only thing that mattered was getting to Joseph. Making sure that he was all right.

He wasn’t all right, not even close to it. Joseph was lying there on a hospital bed, currently unconscious. Normally, he was tall, dark-haired, athletic and impeccably dressed. Now, he lay flat with tubes coming out of his body and running to a collection of nearby machines. His features were twisted with bruises, while a blood-stained bandage showed on one side of his head.

Amber felt tears sting the corners of her eyes, her legs feeling unsteady for a moment or two so that she barely took in the doctor's approach. The doctor was a tall, thin man with wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. His lab coat was neatly pressed, and he carried himself with a kind of detached efficiency that suggested he was used to dealing with critical situations. Amber hoped so. She wanted the best people possible to look after Joseph.

"Are you a family member?" the doctor asked in a clipped tone.

"I'm Joseph's girlfriend," Amber said. This was a moment when it didn’t matter that she was an FBI agent. That didn’t do anything to take away the hurt she felt. "What happened to him?"

"We're still not sure," the doctor said. "He was brought in a few hours ago with severe head trauma. We've done a CT scan, and there's evidence of a concussion and a skull fracture, but we won't know more until he wakes up."

"Can I sit with him?" Amber asked, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks at the thought of what was happening.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, of course. Just don't disturb him too much."

Amber nodded, taking a seat beside the bed and taking Joseph's hand in hers. She squeezed it gently, hoping that somehow he could feel her presence. She leaned over him, brushing her lips against his forehead.

"Please wake up, Joseph," she whispered. "Please come back to me."

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