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NASH CAUGHT DANIKA before she hit the deck. “Is the ambulance here?” he asked Grinch.
Grinch stepped onto the porch. “Pulling up now.”
Relief washed through Nash’s system. He remembered being hypothermic and concussed—at least being told that’s what had happened. He’d remembered very little until he woke up in a hospital bed.
Two medics wearing fire department uniforms burst into the room.
“Hey, Grinch. Sorry it took so long,” one of them said. “You would not believe the idiots on the road. Some jerk actually ran into the fire department’s rescue vehicle. We had to stop, make sure nobody was hurt, then wait for enough LEOs to direct traffic. What a goat rope.”
“You’re here now,” Grinch said. He gestured to the couch, where the second medic knelt at Danika’s side.
As the medics attended to Danika, Nash explained as much as he knew about her condition. They took her vitals and started an IV.
“I’ll get the gurney,” the first medic—Keegan, according to the tag on his uniform—said. He glanced at Nash. “You a relative?”
“Close as she has at the moment,” he said.
“Any known drug allergies?” Keegan asked. “Any medications she’s taking?”
“I’m not aware of any,” Nash said.
Grinch and the deputies were talking. “I can meet you at the jail,” Grinch said, “although it’s Danika who can provide firsthand information. Given her condition, I trust what you heard before is enough to book these jerks.”
“Not a problem,” the first deputy said. “We can catch up with her at the hospital after we get these three processed.”
“I’m riding in the ambulance,” Nash said.
Keegan raised his brows at Grinch.
“He’s good,” Grinch said.
Nash climbed into the ambulance, although over his protests, he’d been ordered to ride up front.
“Anything happens, you’ll be in the way,” Keegan said. “No offense, but those are the rules.”
“Understood.”
The back door of the ambulance slammed shut. “Let’s roll,” Keegan’s partner shouted.
Keegan was on the radio, informing the hospital they were on the way, and summarizing Danika’s condition. His matter-of-fact demeanor reminded Nash of Blackthorne communications, surrounding him with a layer of comfort.
“How long to the hospital?” Nash asked.
“Twenty minutes,” Keegan said. “Unless there’s another crash.”
Nash glanced at the man. No humor in his expression. Nash said a quick prayer to the traffic gods that the roads were clear and dry.
Once they hit the main road, Keegan activated the lights and siren.
Part of Nash was grateful that running code three meant they’d have a relatively clear shot to the hospital, but icicles formed in his gut that they were using lights and sirens because Danika’s condition was critical. Until she’d passed out, Nash was worried, sure, but not in throat-closing panic mode.
Keegan spared a quick glance in Nash’s direction. “Trying to make up for the time we lost on the way out. She’s stable, although we don’t know why she’s still unconscious.”
If that was supposed to make Nash feel better, it failed. Big time.
When they arrived at the emergency entrance to the hospital, Keegan handed Nash Grinch’s borrowed parka and directed him to the admissions area. “Get the paperwork going. I’ll check in with you before we leave.”
Nash thanked the medic and found the desk he needed. As he repeatedly answered the man’s questions with I don’t know, Nash kicked himself for not bringing Danika’s purse with him. Elizabeth had said she’d brought it to the house, along with all those assorted medical supplies. He’d never even looked for it.
If he called Elizabeth, would she drive to the Cottonwood house and read off the information for the admissions clerk?
No, he couldn’t ask her to do that. She had the two boys, and he wasn’t going to make her wake them, pile them into her car for a favor. Emergency rooms must deal with people with no identification on a regular basis.
“Look,” he said to the clerk. “When I get the information, I’ll provide it. I’m sure she has insurance, but I don’t know who it’s with or what it covers.” He lowered his voice. “She was kidnapped. They didn’t exactly give a damn about her identification when they took her. It’s your job to take care of her.”
The man gave an indignant frown. “It’s my job to make sure we have all the required information. The doctors are in charge of determining treatment.”
“Good. Then you have her name, which is a start, so you can say your job is temporarily on hold, and the doctors can do theirs.”
The man scowled. “Take a seat. I’ll call you.”
He found a seat in a far corner. Giving up on trying to sit still or read one of the outdated magazines, Nash paced. Restrooms. Never pass one up. After that, the gift shop. Closed. Signs to a cafeteria, but the hours posted said it was closed, too. An alcove with vending machines. He grabbed a coffee and a chocolate bar and went to his chair.
Unwrapping the candy, the aroma transported him to the first dinner he’d had with Danika, her obvious love of chocolate. Should he buy another one for her?
He bought two more. She’d said she was hungry, and he doubted there would be a meal offered while she was in the ER.
Would they release her? He switched seats, finding one closer to the ER door so Keegan could spot him. Nash sipped his coffee, stared at the door. Sip. Stare. Sip. Stare.
Dammit, was Elizabeth right? Was he in love with Danika?
His phone vibrated in his pocket. Mrs. Obut. She and Mrs. Lin were supposed to be on leave while his father was at the center. Heart racing, he swiped to take the call.
“Mr. Hanley, you need to come back. Right away. Your father. He’s asking for you. Demanding to see you. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but he remembers you.”
Nash put through a call to his father’s facility, and got transferred to a staff person who was caring for his father.
“He’s been asking for me?”
“Yes,” she said, not that Nash doubted Mrs. Obut’s assessment. “If at all possible, you should get here as soon as you can.”
“I get it. I’m in Colorado, and I’ll have to find a flight. Can I talk to him?”
“He’s asleep now. I’m afraid waking him might disorient him,” she said.
“Understood. If he asks about me, mentions me, please tell him I’m coming.” Dammit, his voice was having trouble getting past the basketball in his throat. “Tell him to wait for me.”
“Of course, Mr. Hanley. Godspeed.”
Nash rushed to the admissions desk, where he was told in no uncertain terms he was not permitted into the ER treatment area unless he was immediate family, and even if she’d been admitted to a room, visiting hours were over. He could come back at nine tomorrow morning.
Nash grabbed a piece of paper from a tablet on the counter and scribbled a note. He handed it to the clerk. “Please give this to Danika Payton.”
Then he called Grinch. “My dad. Have to get to New York. I’ll be in touch when I know more.”
“I’m still at the jail. One of these guys has an interesting history.”
Nash barely heard him. He ended the call and started looking for flights. Where was Blackthorne’s logistical squad when you needed them?
No flights from the Springs until tomorrow. Two flights out of Denver tonight. One non-stop would get him in at oh five-thirty. He booked a ticket, then called Grinch.
“I need a ride—fast—to the Denver airport. What are my options?”
“You at the hospital?” Grinch asked.
“Yep. No time to get to the house and back. Flight leaves at twenty-three fifty-nine.”
“Meet you at the front door in five.”
“I wanted the name of a shuttle or cab to DIA, man. I didn’t mean to put you out.”
“Four minutes. Be there. We take care of our own.”
Nash’s throat tightened. He muttered a thank you into the phone, but he wasn’t sure if Grinch was still on the line.
Nash stood in the hospital vestibule watching for Grinch’s pickup. When it appeared, Nash rushed outside.
“I’m coming, Dad. Fast as I can,” he whispered, his words hanging in the air on cold white puffs.
*****
DANIKA BLINKED AT THE beam of light shining in her eyes. The room was bright enough without the extra input. She turned her head. Not good. A blacksmith pounding out horseshoes for a team of Clydesdales had taken up residence behind her eyes.
The light clicked off. A stern-looking, gray-haired woman slipped a penlight into a coat pocket. White coat. Stethoscope around her neck. Doctor?
“I’m Doctor Westlake,” the woman said. “Can you tell me your name?”
Everyone had to ask questions. Why not let her sleep? She’d be happy to answer them all in the morning. After breakfast. Might as well get it over with. Maybe then the doctor would leave her alone. “Danika Payton.”
The doctor wrote on a chart. Danika wondered how the doctor would know whether that was her name. She should have said Mary Smith.
Thinking of her first encounter with Nash, Danika smiled, but that hurt her face, too.
“Nash?” she said.
The door opened and someone else came in. Man. Black uniform. Not hospital. Vaguely familiar. Not Nash.
“Hi, Danika. I’m Keegan. Remember me?”
She strained to place his face. Nothing. “No. Do we know each other?”
“I’m a paramedic. I brought you here.”
Danika glanced at the room again. She knew she was in a hospital—or at least a doctor’s office—but how had she gotten here? Her wrists were covered in gauze, and there was a plastic capped tube taped higher on her forearm.
“My memory is fuzzy,” she said.
“What’s the last thing you recall?” Dr. Westlake asked.
Danika scraped her teeth over her lower lip. “I remember being cold. No, shopping. I was shopping, and then everything went black.” She held up her hands. “I didn’t try to cut my wrists, did I?”
“No, those were minor cuts and abrasions,” Keegan said. “We patched you up. The doctors here added the IV access canula in case they need to give you drugs in a hurry, but it’s all routine.”
Keegan motioned the doctor to a corner of the room. They spoke in whispers, and Danika gave up on trying to eavesdrop. She closed her eyes.
“Danika?”
“Mmph,” she said without opening them.
“It’s Keegan. They’re going to take you to a room. I’ll let Nash know once you’re settled.”
She opened her eyes. “I remember Nash,” she said. “And Grinch. And a Rambler. No, that doesn’t make sense. It was a Ford Taurus.”
“Your memory should come back,” the doctor said. “It’s not unusual for things to be jumbled when you’ve had a concussion, and it’s common with hypothermia. You have both, so we’re going to observe you for a while.”
What was the doctor’s name? Did it matter? “I remember a fire. And getting my car fixed.”
“See,” Keegan said. “You’re already remembering more and more.”
*****
DANIKA AWOKE, CONFUSED and disoriented. At least the lights were dim. Right. She was in a hospital. People had come and gone all night asking stupid questions, making her squeeze this, wiggle that. Memories dovetailed into place. Nash. Had he come by?
The door opened, and a short, plump woman in rainbow-covered scrubs entered. “Good. You’re awake. I’m Gabi, your nurse. Let me update your chart, and then I’ll bet you’re hungry. Dr. Westlake says you don’t have any dietary restrictions—unless you’re allergic to something?”
Danika tried to process the rapid-fire flow of words. Gabi seemed a perfect name for her. “No allergies. Yes, I’m hungry, but can I use the bathroom?”
“Of course. Over there.” Gabi pointed to a half-open door.
Danika grabbed the back of her gown—when had she changed?—and tried to keep from mooning the hovering nurse as she made her way to take care of her needs.
The mirror revealed a blurry image of herself with swollen mouth and a scabbed over cut at the corner. Blinking didn’t make her vision clearer, but in her state, that was fine. She ran her fingers through her hair, wincing as she found a tender spot. More than tender. A lump. Right. Taurus Man had whacked her.
A plastic bag containing basic toiletries sat beside the sink. Danika gave her teeth a quick brushing. The comb, she skipped. Her head was sore enough. She splashed water on her face and returned to the bed. Nurse Gabi helped her up and adjusted the back to a sitting position.
“I’ll get your breakfast order put in and see if I can get someone to send it up. Otherwise, it’ll be lunch, because instructions said not to wake you for the normal breakfast service.” Gabi flipped on the television set and placed a remote near Danika’s hand. “If you want to watch TV while you wait. Here’s the call button, and here’s how to control the bed.”
After Gabi had explained the various controls, she whisked out the door, leaving a vast empty silence. There was a second bed in the room, vacant. Company, someone to talk to, would be nice.
Danika picked up the remote and searched for a news channel. Her vision was still fuzzy. She squinted. According to the time on the screen, it was ten-seventeen. No local news, and not many channels.
Where was Nash? Hadn’t the paramedic said he’d tell Nash when she was in a room? Had he come by while she was sleeping? Maybe there were visiting hours and he wasn’t allowed here yet. Maybe he’d gotten tired of waiting.
Maybe he was glad to have an excuse to be rid of her.
When her breakfast arrived, Danika was hungry enough not to care what it tasted like. She finished it almost before the man who’d delivered it had left the room.
When could she get out and go—where? To the house on Cottonwood? How would she get there? Her car, as far as she knew, was in the parking lot at the market. No purse, no phone. Would someone at the hospital call her a cab? Did Deer Ridge have cab service? Ubers? Was she even in Deer Ridge?
All questions, no answers. She buzzed the call station. “Am I allowed to have visitors?” she asked when someone answered via a speaker above her bed.
“Yes. Visiting hours are nine am to nine pm. Is there anything else?”
She thanked the voice. No reason for Nash not to be here. Maybe he was glad to be rid of her. She punched the remote, landing on a showing of Titanic. Would the doctor release her before the ship sank?
The orderly returned to clear her breakfast dishes. “Where am I?” she asked him.
He scrunched his face as though she were crazy. Which, she supposed, was how her question sounded.
“I mean, what hospital is this? I was unconscious when they brought me in last night.”
A grin split his face. “Okay. Yes. I see. This Park Ridge Regional Medical Center.”
“So I’m near Deer Ridge?”
“Yes.” He loaded her dishes onto a cart. “Good day, miss.”
She stared at the phone on the bedside table. She didn’t know anyone’s number, but how hard would it be for Nash to call the hospital and ask them to ring her room?
Would she be released before lunch? At this point, it would be better to stay. At least she’d have more food in her belly before she was stuck figuring out where to go. She didn’t have a key to her car, to the house on Cottonwood. She might as well be on the ship with all the doomed passengers.
Or you’ll be rescued.
Like she’d been last night. Nash and Grinch had caught Taurus Man and the other two goons, she remembered. Where were they? Was Nash tied up giving his testimony to the deputies or whoever was in charge?
He had a phone, dammit.
Deputy Cochran came in, carrying a small case. “Good morning, Miss Payton. I’ll be taking your statement.” He set a recorder on the bedside table.
Danika told him what she remembered, keeping her answers short, complaining of a headache—which was the truth, although the blacksmith was working on shoes for Shetland ponies now—and promised to call if she remembered anything else.
“Before I go, we need a sample of your DNA to compare with what’s in the car,” he said.
“Be my guest. After all I went through to leave it for you, I’d hate for it to be wasted.”
He took a kit from his case and swabbed her cheek. “Thanks for your cooperation.”
Deputy Cochran left, and minutes later, a man in a white doctor’s coat burst into the room as if he was hours late for an appointment. What was this place? Grand Central Station?
“Good morning, Miss Payton. I’m Doctor Jeffries. A few formalities, and we can get you on your way.”
Danika turned off the set. She knew the ending, although she wasn’t convinced Rose had actually survived. Didn’t matter. If she was Rose and Nash was Jack, their relationship was doomed anyway. As if she and Nash had a relationship.
She submitted to the doctor’s exam, answered his questions, and accepted a printout of things to watch for. “Don’t be alone for the next few days, and no driving until your vision is reliable and your headaches have lessened.”
As if she had a car to drive. At least Nash should be around.
“There’s a matter of insurance,” he went on. “You didn’t have any identification when you came in. You’ll need to take care of billing before you leave.”
“My purse was taken. I can give them the name of my insurance company.”
Was she even covered? Wasn’t there a grace period after she was fired? Her head pounded again. Severance package. Right. She remembered that, and the woman from HR explaining things. Things Danika had barely heard while her brain was trying to process that she’d been fired.
“I’ll send someone up for you. Once that’s taken care of, your discharge papers will be at the nurse’s station.” He left in as much of a rush as he’d arrived.
Gabi came in a few minutes later and took off the annoying blood pressure cuff, the gadget taped over her finger, and removed the IV access, but said she couldn’t release her without paperwork from billing. Twenty minutes later, an orderly showed up with a wheelchair.
“Your ride to the billing office. You can call me Uber,” he said with a laugh.
Minutes later, Danika sat across the desk from a tired-looking woman, a roadmap of wrinkles lining her bronze-skinned face. Danika gave her what information she remembered—who memorized their policy numbers? She played her I was kidnapped and beaten up card, hoping the sympathy factor would kick in. The woman frowned, but tapped the information Danika provided into her computer.
Would they let her go before they confirmed she was insured? This was one time Danika hoped there would be balls and balls of red tape, as tangled as her yarn when she’d tried to knit.
The woman finally seemed satisfied and handed Danika paperwork to sign.
The orderly returned and wheeled her to her room. He turned to leave, saying he might see her again when she was discharged.
“Wait,” Danika said. “Do you know where my clothes are?”
“Should be under bed.” He knelt, retrieved a large plastic bag, and placed it on the mattress.
Danika went into the bathroom to change. Her clothes were dry, but that was about all they had going for them. She dressed, all the while wondering what she could do. No money to pay for a ride, no car. She envisioned herself on a street corner with a cardboard sign. Hot tears brimmed. No, she was smart. There were always solutions. She wasn’t going to cry.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Elizabeth sat in a bedside chair holding Danika’s purse.
Danika burst into tears.