deny it was true. Even without the extra four inches of height the unruly hair gave her, Hannah, at five foot nine, was almost as tall as Jessie. They shared the same lean, athletic build. And when she finally opened her eyes fully, she’d be looking at them with the same intense green-hued gaze as Jessie.
“How’s it going, Sleeping Beauty?” Jessie called out.
“Any exciting plans today, princess?” Kat piled on.
Hannah scowled at both of them before entering the bathroom and closing the door without a word.
“She’s darling,” Kat said drily.
“Always a ray of light,” Jessie agreed sarcastically. “She’s surly because her summer break is almost over. She has to go to summer school next week and she’s not happy about it.”
“Only one more week to lie around and do nothing,” Kat noted. “Poor baby. I wish I had that schedule.”
“What is your schedule for the day?” Jessie asked.
“Nothing exciting—reviewing court documents in the morning. Then some rich couple wants me to find out who’s dealing to their son. Philip Marlowe, I’m not.”
“Need any help? I could look over the docs and—”
“No ma’am,” Kat cut her off. “You’re supposed be giving both your body and your brain a break. Take a walk. See a bad movie. But no matter what, no work for you.”
Jessie was about to reply when her phone rang. By now she knew the number well. She answered immediately.
“This is Jessie Hunt.”
“Hello, Ms. Hunt. This is Nurse Janelle from the ICU at the Medical Center. Dr. Badalia would like you to come by so he can speak to you. When are you available?”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said before hanging up.
She looked at Kat, who seemed to sense what was going on.
“Get dressed,” her friend said. “I’ll pour you some coffee and toast a bagel. You can be out of here in five minutes.”
“What about Hannah?”
“Don’t worry about her. I’ll keep an eye on her this morning. When I have to go, Instagram can babysit her.”
Jessie was already halfway down the hall to her bedroom when she yelled out, “Thank you!”
CHAPTER THREE
Ryan’s hospital room was kept dark and cool. The hiss of the ventilator came in a regular rhythm. It would have been almost soothing if Jessie could forget why it was there. The nurse had told her that Dr. Badalia would be in soon. As she waited, she studied Ryan.
He looked better than he used to. His coloring wasn’t quite as pallid as during her last visit and his skin seemed less waxen. If she squinted, she could imagine he was just sleeping. He still had his dark good looks and, with the sheet covering him up to his neck, one couldn’t tell that the body he worked so hard to keep in optimal shape had already started to atrophy.
But it was just an illusion. Just over two weeks ago, Ryan Hernandez had been the top detective for LAPD’s Homicide Special Section (HSS) unit, which investigated cases that had high profiles or intense media scrutiny, often involving multiple victims and serial killers. Now he was lying helpless in a hospital bed, stabbed in the chest by Jessie’s ex-husband while in their own home. It was too much to think about and she pushed the memory from her mind.
Dr. Badalia appeared at the door and she got up to meet him in the hall. He was a tall, thin man in his late thirties, and with his permanently severe expression, Jessie could never tell whether he was about to deliver good or bad news.
“Thanks for coming down, Ms. Hunt,” he said mildly.
“Of course. Do you have an update?”
“I do. As you recall, we removed Ryan from the medically induced coma last week. Late last night, for the first time, he showed some responsiveness to stimuli. So we reduced his sedation slightly to see if it could be replicated. It was. He was able to open his eyes and responded to a few ‘yes or no’ questions by blinking. We were able to briefly explain his situation, why he was on the ventilator, and so on.”
She couldn’t speak at first. The emotion of the moment hit her unexpectedly and a lump filled her throat. Only then did she realize just how much she’d been holding back the anxiety and dread all these weeks. What had only leaked into her consciousness when she was tired or frustrated now poured in.
“Are you serious?” she said. “That’s fantastic. Why didn’t someone call me?”