Ghost Mortem (Ghost Detective #1) - Jane Hinchey Page 0,18

Ben would work with anyone on the force surprised me. “What case?”

“Sorry. Classified.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I frowned at the detective by my side. I had no idea if I could trust this man or not—for all I knew he could have killed Ben. And here I was, climbing willingly into a car with him. Oh my God! What if I was next? What if his concern was a ploy to get me alone and kill me?

“Audrey? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I squeaked, doing my best to control my accelerated heartbeat that was thundering in my ears. “Why do you ask?”

“Because we’re here?” He rested one hand on the steering wheel and twisted in his seat to face me.

I glanced around in shock. He was right. We’d pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. The car was silent. I’d been so caught up in my own panic I hadn’t noticed. I hadn’t noticed because I was worried I’d just made a colossal mistake—but what I did notice was that Ben hadn’t joined us. Was he still at his house? Or had he…gone? Had he moved into the light before I had a chance to say goodbye? Tears welled in my eyes at the thought.

“Big day, huh?” Galloway said. I sniffed, nodding. He didn’t know the half of it. Without a word he opened his door and climbed out. Fumbling with my seatbelt, I attempted to do the same, only, of course, the darn catch wouldn’t release and the harder I pulled the more stuck it became.

“Here.” Reaching over me, Galloway clicked the release button and the belt slid free. I hadn’t even heard him open my door and gave a little squeak of surprise. I cleared my throat to mutter a quick “thanks” and slid out, smoothing my palms down the legs of my jeans.

Walking into emergency with a detective apparently gets you preferential treatment. We were ushered through to a treatment bay, totally bypassing the waiting room. I glanced at him with a raised brow. He shrugged and I couldn’t help the grin that slipped out. He knew what I meant with that raised brow. Just like Ben would have known. My face fell at the thought of my dear, dead, missing friend. Where was he? I glanced around, hoping to spy him lurking somewhere nearby, that he wouldn’t have abandoned me completely, but I came up empty.

Galloway stood back with arms crossed as a nurse cleaned and then dressed the wound on my elbow.

“It’s just a scrape,” she said reassuringly to me when she’d finished. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried,” I countered. They were making me feel like I was being a big cry baby over it. If I’d been on my own I would have taken a shower to clean it and put my own dressing on. I wasn’t entirely useless.

She ignored me as if I hadn’t spoken. “Change the dressing every day. I’ll give you spares. Keep an eye out for signs of infection. Go see your doctor if that’s the case.” She handed me a half dozen big square patches from the trolley next to the gurney. “How did this happen anyway?”

“I fainted,” I mumbled, not liking to admit to such a thing.

“Fainted?” She paused and stared at me intently. “Do you normally faint?” She whipped the blood pressure cuff off its stand and wrapped it around my upper arm.

“I’d just found my best friend. Dead. It was a bit of a shock.”

The nurse glanced over at Galloway who was watching the proceedings with a blank face, giving nothing away.

“Oh.” She finished taking my blood pressure. “All good. You do look pale. How do you feel? Wobbly? Dizzy?”

“I’m actually hungover,” I admitted ruefully.

“Ohhhhh.” A whisper of a smile flitted across her face. “In that case, drink plenty of water, ibuprofen for the headache I’m pretty sure you have, and make sure you eat something. And soon.”

“Got it.”

We were free to leave. Galloway escorted me back to his car and I wondered why he bothered himself with me. Why not send one of the deputies? I was even more surprised when he stopped by the McDonald’s drive-through and ordered burgers and fries for both of us.

“Nurse’s orders.” He took a burger and box of fries for himself and handed the bag to me. I accepted gratefully, not knowing how to react to this man.

8

“Where have you been?” My voice came out high pitched and whiney and I cleared my throat, trying to bring