woman?” He laughed. “Women run by me all the time and never even look back.” He pushed open the door and held it for her. “Were you going to exit? Allow me.”
The sunshine flooded through the door, enticing her with the promise of escape. She considered running back up to the second floor and trying to pass Peter, but the exit door was open wide, fresh air only a few feet away. Tantalizing. More than anything else, she desperately wanted to run toward freedom, away from Harry and his brother.
Keeping out of reach, she edged closer, ready to scream for help if Gruber made any move to detain her. He didn’t.
Had she imagined a threat where there wasn’t one?
Sweat dampened her brow. Paranoia? Were Harry Gruber and his brother just two innocent bystanders? Neither one had touched her or uttered so much as a single threat. Doubt flooded in.
As she passed, she noticed something that didn’t belong.
There, against the background of Harry’s neat yellow shirt, was an imprint left by two bloody fingers pressed against his chest.
Dan had just checked the third floor and entered the stairwell when he heard Angela’s scream. A full-out gallop down the steps brought him to the bottom in moments. He slammed through and found Angela bent over, sucking in deep breaths in the empty parking lot.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, heart pounding. “Are you hurt?”
She stared at him, mute with terror. No visible signs of injury. He gripped her hands. “Purse your lips like you’re blowing out a candle and breathe like that.”
She did, and the hyperventilation began to dissipate. After a few moments, she was able to straighten, still clutching his fingers in hers.
“What happened?”
He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed. “Harry Gruber and his brother were in the stairwell.” She told him about the bloody print on Harry’s shirt. “You must have passed them when you came down.”
“There was no one there. Just a hospital gown left on the steps.”
She gaped, letting go of him. “I just ran by them. They have to be there. Harry and his brother, Peter.”
“I passed no one, Angela,” he said gently.
“Are you saying I’m making this up? That I’m hallucinating or something?” The beginnings of angry tears shone in her eyes.
“Not at all,” he said calmly. “They must have returned to the second floor. Probably took the elevator down to the lobby and left.”
A stroke of calm trickled across her face. “So...you believe me?”
He searched her face for a moment, wishing he could see the tiniest flicker of confidence there. Instead he noted only a desperate need for reassurance. “Yes, I believe you. Something weird is going on at this hospital.”
A little flicker of emotion told her he’d eased her turmoil, at least for a moment. He told her about the sock.
“What is happening in this town?” Angela said.
“I don’t know. I asked a nurse to call the police.” He scanned the parking lot. “Where did Lila go?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I know why she ran. Does Lila have a child?”
“She mentioned a son once.”
“I think someone left a lock of his hair along with the flowers,” she said, face pale. “As a message.”
A tight band fastened itself around his chest. Threats to Lila’s child? Things were growing darker every moment, like a shadow gradually blotting out the sun. “We have to find her. Now. I’m going to drive the nearby streets. Can you...?” He tried for tact. “Do you want to sit down in the lobby and wait for me?”
Her chin went up, a flame kindling in her green eyes. “I can make it to your truck.”
He thought how magnificent she looked. Strong and scared, undefeated even in her terror. Strengthened by God, even if she didn’t feel it. They made it to his truck and checked out all the side streets adjacent to the hospital. No sign of Lila. By the time they made it back to the hospital, Lieutenant Torrey was already there.
He jutted his chin at them. “Talked to the nurse. Lila bolted, huh?”
Dan and Angela filled him in on the hair and the dropped sock, on Harry Gruber’s appearance in the stairwell and his bloodstained shirt.
Torrey’s eyebrows raised a notch higher with each revelation.
“So you’re accusing Gruber of what, exactly?” Torrey said.
“Not accusing him of anything. Just telling you the facts,” Dan said. “He can try and explain the bloody shirt.”
He flicked a glance over Dan’s shoulder. “I guess he can, since he’s standing right over there.”
Angela jerked around. He turned to find Harry Gruber striding over, an affable smile on his face, a khaki jacket zipped to his chest.
“Is there a problem, Max?” Gruber said.
Max. The two were tight.
Lieutenant Torrey did not return the smile. “Seems we’ve had a patient fly the coop. Ms. Gallagher says you had contact with the woman as she fled. Lila Brown. Did you and your brother encounter her in the stairwell a half hour ago?”
“Me?” He laughed. “I’ve been waiting to visit Lila. The doctor was in with her when I arrived. Always waiting in these hospitals. Doctors don’t value anyone’s time but their own.” He flicked a look at Dan. “Haven’t been near the stairwell. My brother is at the clinic. I just called him. It’s been crazy busy, but we’re going to try and squeeze in a little fishing time. There’s a perch with my name on it out there—I can feel it.” He held out his cell phone. “Call him if you’d like.”
“You’re lying,” Angela said.
A hurt expression crossed his face. “Hey, now. I don’t know how we got off on the wrong foot, since I hardly know you, but calling me a liar?”
“Take off your jacket,” Angela commanded. “There was blood on your shirt. Lila’s blood. You can’t lie about that.”
Harry frowned, flicking a glance at Torrey. “I’m just a truck driver, but I’m fairly certain I don’t have to comply. Do I?”
Torrey shifted. “Maybe not technically, but what’s it going to hurt, taking off your jacket?”
“Unless I have something to hide,” Gruber finished, eyes hard as wet stones.
“No offense intended.”
“Well, I am offended,” Gruber said. “Wouldn’t you be?”
Dan stared down at the shorter man. “Like he said, what’s it going to hurt, Mr. Gruber? Put the whole situation to rest right here.” There was a challenge in his tone, and Gruber did not miss it.
“We’ve always been colleagues, I thought. You work at my clinic, Dan, and this is as far as your loyalty goes?”
“Your clinic does good work for many people, and I am pleased to be a part of that. This is a different issue.”
“You’re not pleased,” Harry hissed. “It strokes your ego, working with the down-and-out. The brilliant surgeon walks among the lowly masses, doling out free care for which you charge exorbitant prices in your hospital setting. Feeds your God complex, doesn’t it?”
Dan refused the bait. “Open your jacket, unless you’ve got some reason to refuse to comply.”
“Refuse