I type the word “claustrophobia” into his browser history.
It comes up empty.
“Oh. Shawn, you didn’t want anyone finding out about this, did you?” I smile and easily retrieve the deleted browsing data from the code buried in his phone.
When I type the word “claustrophobia” again, I get tons of hits.
What to do if your claustrophobia is getting worse?
Does anyone else feel like the walls are closing in when they’re in a small space?
How to get clinically treated for claustrophobia?
Pills to cure claustrophobia?
In the distance, a familiar figure dips and weaves past busy nurses and doctors. It’s Kelly. She’s really going to pack her things.
Time is almost up.
My fingers fly over the keyboard, and I tap into the hospital’s camera system. At once, four monitors blink to life on my laptop. I swipe through until I have eyes on Kelly’s husband.
Shawn is jogging down the emergency stairs. He must be suffering an awful lot if he’s choosing to hike to the ground floor all the way from the twenty-fourth floor.
I can’t let him leave.
Not like this.
I rub my collarbone in thought.
How do I get Shawn to keep his hands to himself?
Inspiration strikes suddenly, as it always does. I open Shawn’s browser again and tap on the latest “fantasy” he’d been indulging in online. Thankfully, the start of the video has the adult actress clothed—although “clothed” is relative. I’ve seengirlfriends visiting their sick boyfriends wearing outfits similar to this.
Not that I’m jealous.
Okay, maybe a little jealous.
But I can compare cup sizes another time. Right now, I have about thirty seconds to see if Shawn has a type.
And he does.
His favorite adult actresses are dark haired, voluptuous, and smiley. So… similar to Kelly. I slam my laptop closed and scan the nurses nearby. Most of them are older with perpetual scowls and messy hair. Nursing is a profession that seems to suck the life out of them. They really should get paid more.
“Shonda,” a voice says through the buzz of conversation. “Can you help log into the system again? I keep getting signed out.”
I hear an angel chorus in the background.
That’s Bailey. She’s a nurse who started working a few weeks ago. Young, pretty. Very full figured. Exactly Shawn’s type.
I do a quick search of Bailey’s personal information before I approach her.
“Hey, Bailey.”
“J!” Bailey grins. “What are you doing down here? Aren’t you supposed to be…” She points up.
I steer her away from the nursing station. “This is going to sound strange, but can you do me a huge favor?”
“Uh, sure. Do you need something?” She stares at my collarbone. “Is it your pacemaker?”
