Mount Sinai Hospital
Manhattan
Ben strode ahead of Detective George Wojciechowski.
“Hold up, Berman!” the cop said. “Young gal named Jefferson is gonna take us to Recovery …”
“I know this place like my own home.”
“I bet you do,” Wojciechowski said. “But let her do her job.”
Kayla found them at the elevators where Ben had already pushed the call button three times. Twice he had tried to enter an empty car, only to have Wojciechowski insist he wait. “I know you’re a rock star here, but—”
“I don’t need my hand held,” Ben said.
“You don’t even have a visitor badge yet, but the way everybody’s pointin’, I guess they know you.”
Kayla introduced herself and took Ben’s bags, telling him she would get them to the room on Eleven West after she took him and the detective to Recovery. She handed them each a badge. Wojciechowski said, “I’ll use my own,” patting the gold shield on his belt.
Ben shoved his visitor badge into his shirt pocket.
“Uh, sorry, Dr. Berman,” Kayla said, “but you’ll need that to—”
“No, I won’t, because I’ve got you. You’ll get me anywhere I need to go.”
“Yes, sir, I will. And may I just say, on behalf of the medical center executive team, how grateful we—”
“Not now, Ms. Jefferson, please. Just get me to my wife.”