Sheriff Rome paced in his hospital room, his eyes ping-ponging between the floor and his packed suitcase by the door. Checking his watch yet again, he returned to the bed and pressed the call button.
Without the sheriff saying a word, the nurse on the other end told him, “Your doctor will be here shortly.”
“Why can’t I just go?” the sheriff asked.
“We can’t discharge you until the doctor signs the order. Please be patient.”
“I’ve been patient, and I’m getting tired of it.” When the woman didn’t respond, he dropped the call button and returned to pacing. After two laps, he looked relieved to see his son and Jeff enter the room. “Emory.”
“Hey Dad.” Emory gave him a hug. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Ready to get out of here.” The sheriff extended a hand to Jeff. “Mr. Woodard.”
Shaking his hand, Jeff told him, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”
“Thank you. I just want to go home now, but the doctor hasn’t discharged me yet. I’m sorry to make you guys wait.”
“Oh we don’t care about that,” Jeff said. “Right, Emory?” Emory was deep in thought and didn’t respond, so Jeff elbowed him. “Emory, are you okay?”
Emory snapped to attention. “Huh? I’m fine. Dad, would you mind if we came back in just a few minutes? I have an errand to take care of.”
The sheriff shook his head. “I’ll be here.”
Jeff followed Emory into the hospital hallway. “What was that about?”
“Pristine’s here. I want to visit her.” Emory looked over his shoulder at the nurse station. “Wait here, and I’ll be right back.”
Emory walked up to the station, identified himself as a TBI special agent and asked for Pristine’s room number. The nurse assistant at the desk gave him the room number and said, “There’s a note here that she asked not to be disturbed by anyone but family.”
“Do you really think she meant to keep out the person trying to find whoever put her in the hospital?”
The nurse assistant frowned as she took a moment to think. “No, I guess not.”
When Emory returned to Jeff, they said in synchronicity, “I know which room she’s in.”
Confused, Emory asked, “How do you know?”
Jeff pointed to Victor’s back just before he turned the corner and disappeared. “Victor just left it.”
“Can you do me a favor and keep him occupied? I’ll text you when it’s all clear.”
“Will do.” Jeff pursued Victor down the hallway.
Emory approached Pristine’s room and peered inside the open door. It wasn’t a private room, but the bed closer to the door was unoccupied. The lights were dim, and the TV was on but almost inaudible. He could see the shape of Pristine’s legs under the blankets, but he couldn’t see her face to tell if she were awake or not. He decided to risk it. He stepped inside the room and touched the doorknob to the bathroom. After a brief pause to listen for any movement on her part, he opened the bathroom door and slithered inside, closing the door behind him before turning on the light.
He saw her makeup bag on the sink and her nightgown hanging from a hook on the door but not what he was looking for. Damn. Turning off the light, he stepped in silence from the bathroom and guided the door to a quiet close.
Emory waited for a moment and still heard nothing from Pristine. He stepped deeper into the room. When her pillow came into view, he saw that she was sleeping with her face turned toward the window. He also saw the object he sought on her bedside table. He crept closer until he was able to pick up the hairbrush. He pulled several strands from it, and as he began exiting the room, he retrieved a baggie from his pocket. The crinkling sound it made when he opened it seemed to echo throughout the room.
“Victor, is that you?” Pristine asked from behind him.
Emory stopped in his tracks.