by Casi McLean
“It could be the flu, or some kind of virus. Either way, Tamiflu should reduce the symptoms until you can get checked out. I’ll make arrangements for a prescription to be delivered to your room. Take the medicine right away, Syd. Get some sleep and push liquids… and call me if you need anything.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Hey, before you hang up, did Jack Duncan finish testing the amulet?”
“Not completely, but he found some bone fragments in the design dating back three thousand years. He still has a few more tests to run before I leave for Sharon, but I couldn’t stay. I felt so bad, he dropped me off at my hotel so I could take a nap. He’ll stop by again this afternoon to return the stone.”
“I can’t wait to hear his conclusion. But for now, just get some sleep, kiddo.”
“Will do. And thanks for the meds. Hopefully, I’ll feel better tomorrow and we can compare notes.”
“Sounds good… take care of yourself.”
When he ended the call, Syd dropped the phone and drifted into a tumultuous sleep, only to be awakened in what felt like mere moments, by a loud pounding.
“Sydney. Are you alright? Can you hear me?”
Recognizing Jack’s voice, she rolled out of bed, plodded toward the door, turned the knob for him to enter then lumbered back in a fog.
“When I couldn’t reach you, I was worried. How do you feel?” He edged toward the window and opened the drapes. “Can I get you anything?”
Blinking against the sudden glare, Syd gazed at his figure silhouetting in front of a blazing sunset. “My brother was supposed to have a prescription sent to me.”
Jack peered downward to the white paper bag clutched to his chest. “Oh, you mean this?” He stepped forward and held out the bag. “It was sitting on the floor in front of your door.”
Syd sent him an exhausted gaze.
“Let me open it for you.” Drawing the bag close, he ripped through the staples and reached inside for the prescription. He dumped a pill into his palm then strode into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water. “Here, I hope this helps.”
Sydney struggled to a sit and held out a hand. “Thanks.” She popped the pill into her mouth then washed it down––but immediately felt the urge to retch. Taking in a long breath, she tried to stave-off the impulse. “What time is it?”
“Just after five. I guess you’ve slept all afternoon.” He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a brushed-bronze box. “I promised I’d get this back to you before evening and I’m a man of my word.” He handed her the container.
Peering inside, she lifted several layers of wrapping to see the amulet resting on a perch of velvet-like cloth. “Thank you.” She grasped ahold of the artifact and drew it close to her chest. “Did you find out anything more about my stone?”
“I did, and the results are extraordinary. But we can discuss your find later. Right now, you need to rest.” He strolled toward the door. “I don’t feel right about leaving you alone like this. At least let me bring you something to eat.”
“No. Please. No food.” She turned her face away and squeezed her eyes to stave-off another bout of nausea.
Holding up his hand with fingers splayed, he complied. “Okay. I’ll let you rest.” He edged toward the door. “Do you need a ride to the airport tomorrow morning?”
All she wanted to do was sleep. Jack’s hovering was beginning to get on her nerves. “No. Thank you. With Noah’s Tamiflu prescription and a good night’s sleep, I’m sure I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”
“Okay. If you’re sure… but promise me, you’ll call if you don’t feel better after taking that medicine. I live five minutes away and I want to help if you’ll let me.”
She nodded. “I will. I promise.” Closing her eyes, she listened as Jack turned the latch and quietly slipped into the hallway. When the door closed behind him, she rolled onto her side and drifted into a restless slumber, unaware an arm slipped around her neck––until a hand clamped over her mouth… terror erupting from her soul, she tried to scream… but all that escaped from her throat was a muffled cry that no one could hear.
Chapter 21
By the time Noah returned to the hospital, twilight had passed, and the moon shone high in the early December sky. He pressed his key fob to lock his car and strode toward the parking deck elevator. The clatter of his shoes echoed through the garage with each step. A sudden chill crept over him with an eerie sensation that someone was watching him. He darted his gaze from one side to the other. Seeing no one, he still couldn’t shake the feeling someone was lurking in the shadows. Halting, he listened then shot a glance over his shoulder… again, he saw no one.
He shook his head, rationalizing the anxiety was a natural reaction to the intense pace he’d kept since his trip to Connecticut, his own injury, and the lack of control he felt about BW’s condition. All three had certainly worn him down. Nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure. Doctor, heal thyself.
Pressing the elevator Up button, he slipped a hand into his lab coat and withdrew his smartphone then scrolled down the messages. When the doors opened, he robotically stepped inside and pressed the Intensive Care button. Anticipating the jerk as the elevator rose, he was surprised when a chunky hand slipped between the panels. The doors immediately opened.
Eyes widening, Noah stared at the man, who, without saying a word, stepped inside then turned and stood beside him.
Dressed in sagging blue jeans and a Navy-blue hoodie, the stocky man pressed the already-lit Intensive Care floor button then clasped his hands beneath his protruding belly and faced forward.
The hairs on Noah’s neck prickled, and his stomach tightened. Was this guy tailing him? The thugs behind the Connecticut shooting would have no trouble tracking Noah and Syd to Atlanta. Once they knew Aunt Becky owned the mountain property, a simple Google search would bring up extended family. And Noah’s medical notoriety made him easy to find.
A stab of heat shot up his neck and flushed into his face. Why did he feel so paranoid? Breathe, Noah. He drew in a long breath then eased it out, wishing he knew the facts surrounding his patient. The lack of control gnawed at his gut. Not knowing her backstory put everyone in his life at risk and kicked up anxiety he didn’t need.
When the doors opened, Noah stood still until the hooded man stepped into the foyer. Then, he purposely turned the opposite direction and circled back to the 5A nurse’s station. Suspicious or not, there was no reason to set himself up. He gazed around before heading toward his patient’s room, then again before slipping inside. The beep-beep of the monitors drew his attention to his comatose patient. “So, your name is Jillian Andrews, an ex-marine. That explains your innate survival skills.” He shook his head. “What the hell happened to you?” He wished she could reply.
Glancing at the display, he checked her stats, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, heart rate, respiratory rate, and body temperature, expecting no change. But the notation was met with a doubletake. He squinted and leaned closer. The display showed her temperature only mildly above normal. Brushing away a strand of hair, he placed his palm on her forehead then felt her cheeks. Finally. Her fever broke, and he prayed the drop was permanent and not an anomaly indicative of her grave condition.
Noah stood straight and studied her skin tone. Was it his imagination that he could see a bit of color now flushing her face? He decreased the IV pressure clamp, slowing the drip maintaining her comatose state. If her fever stabilized close to normal, he could bring her completely out of her coma and validate his Korsakoff’s diagnosis. In an hour, if she maintained her uphill climb, he’d turn off the drip completely. Now, he’d simply wait.
So much for going home and sleeping in his own bed tonight. He scraped a chair across the linoleum floor, situated it next to BW and sat. After noting the time, 7:38 p.m., he finished scrolling through his messages then Googled Jillian Andrews and the big Houston drug bust. Authorities blamed the cartel for the explosion that caused the witne
ss’ death along with her husband and child. Engrossed in the story, his focus drifted away from his patient, until she let out a soft moan.
“Well, well. Look at you.” He stood. “You’re one tough woman, Jillian Andrews.” Again, he examined her stats then breathed a sigh of relief. She was definitely out of the woods. Her temperature was stable at 99 degrees and her vitals vastly improved. Noah reached for the IV and halted the drip. After disengaging the unit, he pushed a saline drip in its place. “Let’s see how quickly you wake up now.”
He strolled into the bathroom then returned with a towel and a damp cloth and rinsed-off her face and arms. After adjusting her bed to raise her head, he returned to his research.
“Uhhhhhhh.” Jillian moaned and tried to shift her position. When the wires and tubes trapped her, her eyelids popped open into a wide stare as she gazed around the room.
Noah stood, glanced at his watch––9:42 p.m.––he grabbed her wrist to check her pulse. “It’s about time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty.”
Brow wrinkled, she faced him.
But it wasn’t confusion Noah detected in her eyes––the look exuded utter fear. He squeezed her hand. “You’re safe, Jillian.”
“No.” She coughed. “I’m not Jillian.” Again, she shifted her gaze around the room.
“No one is here besides me, and after all I went through to save your life, you can rest assured I won’t hurt you.” He sat then scooted his chair closer. “Now, tell me. What’s the last thing you remember?”
“No. I can’t. Please. I have to get out of here.” Again, she struggled.
“Here. Let me get rid of those tubes and wires.” He leaned forward and disconnected the IV, then pulled the adhesive from her arm and withdrew the needle. After a quick glance at her vitals, he flipped off the monitors and began disconnecting everything.
Within seconds, a nurse rushed into the room, her hand pressed against her chest. “Oh, thank goodness, Dr. Monaco. When her monitors flatlined, we thought she had too. I’m so sorry to interfere. I had no idea you were still here.” She turned to leave.
“That’s on me, Darla. I should have let you know what I was doing. You did your job rushing in here.”
She offered him a soft smile then gazed past him to Jillian. “See why everyone here loves Dr. Monaco so much? You’re in good hands, dear. It was touch-and-go for a while, but I’m so glad you’re improving.” Again, she turned to leave.
“Thank you. “Jillian’s voice was laced with sincerity.
Darla gazed over her shoulder. “You are so welcome. Let me know if you need anything.” She paced out the door and closed it behind her.
“You see? You’re perfectly safe here. But you might not stay that way unless you tell me what happened. I can’t protect you if I don’t know what you’re running from.” He leaned back and propped a foot on the side of her bed.
“I… I’m not sure.” She stretched the light blanket folded across her lap over her arms.
“Tell me the last thing you remember.” He watched her body language and a tiny wrinkle that formed just above the curve of her nose. She had to remember. He couldn’t have been wrong about her diagnosis. Korsakoff’s was the only conclusion that made any sense.
With palms on each side, Jillian pressed her weight against the bed to sit up straight then winced. Lowering her head, she investigated the gunshot wound near her thigh then lifted her gaze to meet Noah’s. “This… this is the last thing I remember.”
Chapter 22
Twisting and yanking, Sydney struggled to escape, but the pudgy hand clamped over her mouth trapped her in a breathless vise-grip against his sweaty chest. As her energy faded, her body fell limp. An incessant hum whirred in the distance, throbbing in tandem with her pounding head. She fought to clear her foggy mind. Forced to succumb, she pried open her eyelids a tiny slit, but she could see only the dank darkness enveloping her. Had her attacker left her here alone?
The drone whined louder… louder… until she felt her head would explode. Gathering together all her might, she jerked to pull free and fell to the ground with a hard thud. Groggy, she opened her eyes to a shocking-blue light pulsating through the pitch-black surrounding her… and an unrelenting shrill tone. She snatched a pillow on the floor beside her and lobbed it forward… the alarm clock fell to the floor and silenced.
What masochistic tourist left a hotel room with an active alarm set? Syd hauled herself onto the sofa then flipped on a lamp. Never before had she dreamed with such intensity. A quick scan of the room reminded her where she was, and the 8:30 a.m. flight she needed to catch. She shifted her gaze to her watch, 6:20 a.m. A shot of panic kicked up her pulse and infused a wave of adrenaline prickling down her arms. She gathered her belongings and tossed them into her bag, then grasped the box holding her amulet from her bedside table, slid it carefully into her jacket pocket and secured the catch with a firm zip.
Grabbing some clean underwear, jeans, and a sweater, she hustled into the bathroom, showered and dressed in record time. By 6:45, she stepped from the elevator into the lobby. Walking to the front desk, she finally considered how she felt. Not great, but better than the chills, nausea, and bathroom trips that had plagued her before Jack delivered Noah’s prescription. Hopefully, the meds were working. Syd plopped the key on the counter to get the attendant’s attention.
The desk clerk raised his gaze. “Checking out, ma’am?”
“Yes, please. Room 602.”
“You’re good to go. Your bill has been taken care of ma’am.”
That was odd. “By whom?”
The attendant peered at his computer. “By a Mr. Jack Duncan, ma’am. He left a note.” Gazing downward, the attendant scanned the counter then grabbed a small envelope and held it out. “Here’s the note.”
“Thank you.” She opened the envelope and read: Thank you for allowing the Smithsonian Institute to examine your artifact. Jack Duncan. Syd shrugged and turned toward the lobby door.
“Safe travels, ma’am.” The attendant called out.
She paused and tossed a gaze over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose you have an airport shuttle?”
He immediately replied, “Yes, ma’am. It’s about to leave, though. If you hurry, you might catch––”
She shot out the front doors before he finished his sentence. Arms flailing in the air to hail the driver, she jogged toward the limo now pulling away.
The car halted and the driver waved her forward. He pushed open the front passenger door.
“Thanks for waiting.” She slid into the seat and yanked the door closed. “If you hadn’t stopped, I would’ve missed my flight for sure.”
“Glad to be of service, ma’am. What airline are you traveling with today?’
“Delta.”
“You’re in luck. Delta is my first stop.”
Syd smiled. “Perfect. You’re a lifesaver.” She settled into the seat then reached into her pocket for her phone. Scrolling down her screen, she read her notifications then sent a quick text to Noah and Luke, advising them of her status.
Once again, having no luggage but her carry-on bag worked to her advantage. Still, she barely had time to make the flight.
An attendant was closing the door as she ran toward the gate but paused to scan her ticket and let her board the flight.
“Excuse me,” she announced several times as she squeezed past passengers shoving their belongings into the overhead compartments. When she finally found her aisle seat, she plopped down, clutching her bag to her chest, and closed her eyes.
The tug of the plane releasing the dock was followed by a sense of movement as the plane taxied to the runway. Sydney drew in a long, deep breath and tried to relax. The trip to Hartford would be brief and once she met Uncle Clay at the Hertz Rental store, they’d drive to Sharon. Another jam-packed day lay ahead. She might as well get in a quick catnap now while she could.
“You cut that about as close as anyone I’ve seen, Sydney. But I’m glad you made the fli
ght.”
The voice caught her completely off guard. She snapped a gaze to the man sitting next to her. “Jack? What the hell––I mean, why are you here?” As attracted to the man as she was initially, the idea he paid for her room and now followed her to Connecticut sent a chill down her back.
“Nice to see you, too.” He lifted a brow. “You look a little less green today. How are you feeling?”
Ignoring his backhanded compliment, she sized up the coincidence. What were the chances Jack would end up on her flight, let alone be seated next to her?
“Wait. You don’t think I… I mean, I had no idea you were… I would never––”
“Stalk me?” Again, a rush of anxiety invaded her…this time clenching her stomach.
“Exactly. I mean, I definitely bought a ticket to Hartford, Connecticut this morning, but with the intention of meeting Clay to show him what I discovered so far. Wait, I was under the impression you were flying into Sharon Saturday afternoon, so you and Clay could investigate the stone chamber.”
She stared, still skeptical his presence was purely coincidental. “Sharon doesn’t have an airport. At least not one suitable for commercial flights. Clay’s flight from Atlanta lands in Hartford shortly before this one, and since he’d already reserved a car, we agreed to meet at the Hertz Rental counter and drive to Sharon together.”
“I swear, I had no idea you were on this flight until I saw you weaving in and out between the passengers.” He leaned against the back of his seat. “But to be honest, I can’t say I’m not pleased to see you.”
She harrumphed.
“Full disclosure. I was planning on asking Clay if I could tag along.”
She sent him a stiff glare.
