pushed out of position, the one with the askew pillows and missing covers that the glowing machines facing it indicated had seen recent use, he found her. Swaddled in blankets, looking small and fragile, she lay facedown on the slick, gray floor, one delicate bare leg and foot curved toward the door, the other concealed by the bedcoverings that were twisted around her. Part of her back was bared, too, by the green hospital gown that imperfectly covered her. Her bare right arm stretched toward the bed. The other must have been tucked up under her body. Her tangled dark brown hair concealed her face, but still he had no doubt that it was her.
“Jessica?”
Mark crouched beside her, cautious still, keeping one eye on his surroundings, not quite ready yet to holster his gun. She was breathing, he saw at a glance, and as far as he could tell had no obvious new injury. There was no pool of blood, no knife protruding from her back, nothing like that. His fingers closed around her wrist: She definitely had a pulse. He could feel it beating fast and strong.
“Jessica, can you hear me?”
Her head moved, and she murmured something that he couldn’t understand. She resisted his touch, trying to pull her wrist away, and he let go.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
As he glanced swiftly around the apparently empty space around them, suspicion continued to niggle at the edges of his mind. But so far suspicion was all it was; the truth was that he had no idea in hell what had happened to her. Maybe he’d get lucky and find that she’d just fallen out of bed.
He prayed to God that was all it was.
In the circles he moved in, the circles of loosely connected spooks and spies and personal protection officers and government agents who were all to differing degrees ready, willing, and able to do the dirty work of the powerful, the name of the hospital where she had been taken would be common knowledge by now. . . .
Even as that thought arose to bug him, the orderly, several nurses, a couple of security officers, and who knew how many others burst through the door in a big, untidy knot.
“Miss Ford . . .” It was a male voice.
“Oh my God, he’s got a gun!” one of the women cried, and then they all practically fell over themselves as they tried to reverse or otherwise get out of harm’s way.
“Secret Service.” Mark stood up, flashing his badge, and holstered his gun. Reassured, the security guards—a pair of retired cops from the look of them—stopped fumbling with their weapons and the rescue party resumed its mission, crowding around the woman on the floor.
“Miss Ford? What happened?”
One of the nurses, a thirtyish blonde, smoothed the hair back from the patient’s face. Mark caught a glimpse of a smooth, white cheek and a full, pale mouth. Her lashes flickered, but there was no reply.
Superfluous now, he stepped back out of the way and set himself the task of discovering what had befallen her. Checking out the bathroom was tops on his list, so that’s where he headed.
“She must have tried to get up,” another of the nurses said as he came back out of the bathroom, sure now that no one was in there. All he could see of the group huddled over Jessica was the tops of their heads as they crouched around her. Except for the security guards, who were standing back out of the way, frowning as they watched. “Maybe she was trying to get to the bathroom or something. It looks like she’s knocked herself out.”
“She’s catheterized.”
“Well, maybe she didn’t realize.”
“Think she hit her head on a corner of the table?”
“Possible. Or the floor.”
“Yup, there’s a bump back here. No cut or anything. It’s swelling, though.”
“Look, she pulled out her IV.”
A round of tongue-clucking followed this discovery.
“Help . . .”
Faint and panicky, it was Jessica’s voice. Weak as it was, Mark recognized it instantly through the sea of chatter.
Abandoning his quick
“Jessica?”
Mark crouched beside her, cautious still, keeping one eye on his surroundings, not quite ready yet to holster his gun. She was breathing, he saw at a glance, and as far as he could tell had no obvious new injury. There was no pool of blood, no knife protruding from her back, nothing like that. His fingers closed around her wrist: She definitely had a pulse. He could feel it beating fast and strong.
“Jessica, can you hear me?”
Her head moved, and she murmured something that he couldn’t understand. She resisted his touch, trying to pull her wrist away, and he let go.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
As he glanced swiftly around the apparently empty space around them, suspicion continued to niggle at the edges of his mind. But so far suspicion was all it was; the truth was that he had no idea in hell what had happened to her. Maybe he’d get lucky and find that she’d just fallen out of bed.
He prayed to God that was all it was.
In the circles he moved in, the circles of loosely connected spooks and spies and personal protection officers and government agents who were all to differing degrees ready, willing, and able to do the dirty work of the powerful, the name of the hospital where she had been taken would be common knowledge by now. . . .
Even as that thought arose to bug him, the orderly, several nurses, a couple of security officers, and who knew how many others burst through the door in a big, untidy knot.
“Miss Ford . . .” It was a male voice.
“Oh my God, he’s got a gun!” one of the women cried, and then they all practically fell over themselves as they tried to reverse or otherwise get out of harm’s way.
“Secret Service.” Mark stood up, flashing his badge, and holstered his gun. Reassured, the security guards—a pair of retired cops from the look of them—stopped fumbling with their weapons and the rescue party resumed its mission, crowding around the woman on the floor.
“Miss Ford? What happened?”
One of the nurses, a thirtyish blonde, smoothed the hair back from the patient’s face. Mark caught a glimpse of a smooth, white cheek and a full, pale mouth. Her lashes flickered, but there was no reply.
Superfluous now, he stepped back out of the way and set himself the task of discovering what had befallen her. Checking out the bathroom was tops on his list, so that’s where he headed.
“She must have tried to get up,” another of the nurses said as he came back out of the bathroom, sure now that no one was in there. All he could see of the group huddled over Jessica was the tops of their heads as they crouched around her. Except for the security guards, who were standing back out of the way, frowning as they watched. “Maybe she was trying to get to the bathroom or something. It looks like she’s knocked herself out.”
“She’s catheterized.”
“Well, maybe she didn’t realize.”
“Think she hit her head on a corner of the table?”
“Possible. Or the floor.”
“Yup, there’s a bump back here. No cut or anything. It’s swelling, though.”
“Look, she pulled out her IV.”
A round of tongue-clucking followed this discovery.
“Help . . .”
Faint and panicky, it was Jessica’s voice. Weak as it was, Mark recognized it instantly through the sea of chatter.
Abandoning his quick
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