Page 185 of Mile High Ex's Dad
Small, but enough.
“When?” I ask again.
“About forty minutes ago.”
Forty minutes.
My anger, until now held low and steady, begins to rise. “And no one noticed she was gone?”
“She may have stepped out.”
“She had emergency surgery. Her child is in the NICU. She was barely able to sit upright.” I step closer. “Do not stand here and tell me she stepped out.”
The nurse’s throat moves. She knows she has chosen the wrong lie. “Sir, I understand you’re upset?—”
“No,” I say. “You don’t.”
Her eyes flick briefly toward the exit.
That’s her second mistake.
I follow her gaze, then look back at her. “Who told you to say that?”
The blood drains from her face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.”
She takes one step back. “I should call security.”
“Call whoever you like.”
My voice is quiet enough now that she finally understands shouting would be safer.
I look at her badge, then at her hands. They’re shaking. Slightly. Not enough for most people to notice, but I’m not most people.
The nurse takes one careful step back. It’s nothing obvious. Nothing that would alarm anyone watching from a distance. Just a small retreat, a glance toward the corridor, the movement of someone trying to get away before the questions become too precise.
My instinct catches it before my mind finishes with it.
She turns and says, “I’ll check the desk again.”
I let her go.
For three seconds.
Then I follow.
She doesn’t head toward the main nurses’ station. She cuts left, past the linen cart, toward the service corridor near the staff elevators. Her pace is quick now. Not frantic, but too purposeful for someone simply checking a chart.
I keep enough distance that she doesn’t hear me.
She stops near a half-open supply room door and pulls out her phone. Her hand is shaking when she taps the screen.
I move closer, staying just out of sight.
Her voice is low, strained. “He’s here,” she says. “He’s asking about her.”
A pause.
