“Security footage captured this man attempting to access your ward at 3 a.m.,” Randall says slowly, as though trying not to alarm me. “He told the night shift he was dropping off dinner you’d forgotten.”
The words hit like a gut punch. My mind scrambles, replaying the night before. I was home with the twins, asleep.
“He interacted with one of the patients. The woman says he had a gun on him and he asked him about you. The patient is terrified.”
“Sir,” I say, my voice coming out shaky, “I don’t have any relationship with that man anymore. It all ended six years ago.”
Randall and Mrs. Meyer exchange a glance. “She already has a restraining order in place for this man,” she tells him.
Randall turns to me. “I understand your situation, Miss Henson, but it’s impossible to sensitize each staff member about your situation.”
I swallow hard. “I understand.” Jason is my demon to deal with.
Randall leans forward, clicking to play the video. The footage shows Jason loitering near the nurses’ station, his face mostly obscured by the brim of a baseball cap, but the way he moves is unmistakable. Predatory. Intentional. He walks to the locked medication room, tries the door, and, finding it secure, leaves moments later.
“He didn’t access the drugs,” the security officer says, his tone measured, “but his presence is a clear breach.”
“Why wasn’t I notified sooner?” I ask, panic creeping into my voice.
The IT head hesitates. “The footage was flagged during a routine audit this morning. The night shift didn’t recognize him as a threat and didn’t report it.”
A fresh wave of anger and fear surges. Jason, creeping through the hospital while I was miles away, unaware. He could have done anything—planted something, tampered with medication. The possibilities make my skin crawl.
“I’ll update the police on the incident,” I say, forcing my voice to remain steady even as my hands tremble.
The security officer clears his throat, an awkward, halting sound that immediately sets me on edge. Mrs. Meyers avoids my gaze, her expression grim, and I know—deep in my gut—that something is wrong.
“Mia,” the security officer says, his voice carefully measured, “we can’t have you working here right now.”
The words hit like a slap, and I blink at her, unable to process.
“What?” I finally manage, my voice breaking.
“Randall,” Mrs Meyers says, turning to the officer who shakes his head.
“It’s not your fault,” he says, continuing quickly, almost like he’s trying to soften the blow. “But Jason’s presence poses a serious threat. To you, to our staff, to patients. We could have a serious lawsuit on our hand if the patient complains. Until this situation resolves, we’re putting you on administrative leave.”
My legs feel like they might give out. “But I have to work. I’m the only one supporting my girls.”
Randall’smouth tightens into a line, and for a moment, I think he might relent. “I’m sorry. It’s a difficult decision.”
“But the hospital is helping me out.”
“He crossed a line, Miss Henson. We can’t have him on our parameters again.”
I turn to Mrs Meyers after Randall leaves. “You have to help me,” I tell her.
“I know, Mia. I never thought…” She trails off.
“You promised to help me.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I never imagined it would come to this,” she says. That’s because she doesn’t know Jason.
But then she takes a deep breath and shakes her head. “If you want to apply for paid personal leave?—”
“For what?” My voice rises, desperation creeping in. “To care for a health issue? That’s the only option you’re giving me?”
Mrs. Meyers hesitates. “Let’s say... severe depression. I can fast-track it.”
