from a box by the bed and pressed them against his arm.
He grabbed her hands and tugged her to the bathroom doorway beside the bed. “Wait in here,” he whispered.
“It’s just a power outage, right?” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip while her eyes practically begged him to agree with her.
He wished he could. He wished he could erase the fear in her eyes. But he already knew the worst had happened.
The bomber had found them.
“Hide in the bathroom, Darby. Please.”
She looked as though she was about to protest, but instead, she ran into the bathroom.
Rafe moved to the main door as quietly as he could. He started to bend down to look under the door when a wave of dizziness forced him to brace his hands against the wall. He closed his eyes and willed the room to stop spinning.
“It’s the concussion.”
His eyes flew open. Darby was standing beside him in her cleverly constructed outfit of two lime-green hospital gowns, one tied in the front, one in the back. He hadn’t even given a thought to the flimsy gown covering him. Darby had probably gotten a generous view of his backside when he’d jumped out of bed. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so worried right now, and if it wouldn’t make his head hurt worse.
“I told you to stay—”
“In the bathroom, I know,” she whispered. “But then I thought about your concussion.” She glanced at the closed door, her face pale. “Do you want me to open it?”
“No.” He winced at how loud his voice sounded in the quiet room. “No,” he repeated, in a quieter voice. “I need to know what’s on the other side of that door without opening it, just in case...”
She visibly swallowed, and nodded, letting him know she understood.
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “since I don’t have a mirror, I’m going to have to bend down and—”
“Wait.” She put her hand on his, stopping him when he started to lower himself to the floor to look under the door. “Give me a second.” She hurried to the rolling tray by the bed, the one that held the water pitcher and plastic cup she’d given him to drink out of earlier. She pressed something on the sides, and the tray rolled back to reveal a compartment. She reached inside, tugged on something he couldn’t see, then snapped out a rectangular mirror attached to a piece of plastic the same color as the tray.
She held up her prize and hurried back to him. “Voilà.”
He squeezed her hand in thanks and took the mirror. “Remind me to arrest you later for destruction of hospital property.”
The answering grin on her face faded when he crouched and placed the mirror flat on the floor, sliding it just under the edge of the door. The dim emergency lights in the hallway showed no one was standing outside. What he could see of the hallway was deserted.
It shouldn’t have been.
Officer Daniels should have been outside.
A nurse should have been sitting at the nurses’ station.
The phone by the bed rang. Darby let out a startled yelp. Her eyes widened in dismay and she clapped her hands over her mouth.
Rafe pulled her to the bathroom again, pushing her inside. He grabbed the phone before it could ring again. “Detective Morgan.”
“It’s Buresh. Dr. Steele, is she—”
“She’s fine. Daniels isn’t here, though, and the power’s out. What’s going on?” He stretched out the phone cord so he could stand closer to the door and watch for any movement reflected in the mirror.
“Something happened to the power transformer. I’m downstairs with Daniels, in the emergency room. He came down to check on the noise. Keep Dr. Steele with you until we get this figured out, okay? SOP, you got that?”
Rafe’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Got it. SOP. Call me back once you have more information.”
“Will do.”
He pressed the button to end the call. Then he dialed 9-1-1. He gave his name, location, and told the operator that an officer needed assistance. Without waiting for a reply, he pitched the phone on the bed, grabbed Darby’s hand and pulled her toward the door at a near run.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as he tugged her into the hallway. “What’s going on?”
“Be quiet.” He squeezed her hand to soften his words. The neon green emergency-exit sign glowed at the end of the hall, drawing him forward like a beacon. All he had to do was get through