I lean forward and whisper close to her ear. “Stormy, I’ll protect you. I swear it. Your family misses you. All of them.”
“Who are you?” a female voice says from behind me.
I rise to my feet and turn. In front of me is a petite, black-haired beauty with the iciest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Her dark red lips and pale skin make her look like Snow White brought to life, watching me with quiet authority.
“You need to leave. No one is supposed to be in here.” She crosses the room to the other side of the bed and takes Stormy’s hand. “Jane, are you okay?”
“I’m okay. Atlas was just telling me about a friend of his who’s missing and was wondering if I was her. I don’t recognize the name, though.”
I know she’s lying, but I don’t call her out.
“I work for the government.” I flash my badge for the petite fireball to see.
“Well, Officer Ulrich, you didn’t clear this with the nurses. They told me no one was in here.”
“I didn’t know I had to. There were no guards at her door. If she’s in danger, I can have some posted.” I stand there and wait for Stormy to say something.
“Maisy,” Stormy says, and the woman leans down.
They whisper back and forth, and I know what’s about to happen before it does.
“Please leave and don’t come back. I’ll give you a card for my attorney if you’d like to speak to them.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be back, sweetheart,” I tell Stormy. “I’m not giving up on finding Stormy—or helping you.” I turn and walk out of the room. In my bones, I know this is her.
As I walk to the elevator, I open an app to put a block on Jane Doe’s location. I also make a note to look into this Maisy character and find out what she wants.
By the time I get back to Portland, Jane Doe no longer appears in the hospital records. Not because of me. I call the nurse’s station, and they tell me the patient I’m asking about has discharged herself.
She ran.
Chapter Three
Poison
Four Weeks Later
I push my glasses up my nose, struggling to come up with the words to say to Maisy. She’s been by my side for everything over the past several weeks, but I don’t want to be her focus. I don’t like depending on others. I need time to process everything. I can’t be the woman I was before. Physically, I’m not her anymore, and emotionally, I will never feel that freedom again. Maisy has her own life to live and shouldn’t be burdened with my self-doubts. She’s constantly reassuring me, telling me everything will be okay. I wonder if that’s even possible.
After Atlas came to the hospital to question me, I knew I needed to get away. That night, the hospital moved me to another floor, and the staff told anyone who asked that I had discharged myself. In reality, I was still there, in hiding.
I still can’t believe he came for me. He figured out who I was. I knew he had when he promised to protect me. It was a good thing I was covered in gauze, because tears flowed at his words. I wanted to trust him, but I knew I couldn’t. Especially after hearing that Scout and Thad were expecting. I need to protect them, and I can’t do that if they know where I am.
Today I’m being moved to the rehab hospital, where over the next couple of weeks I should be able to start working on walking again. I’ll be in these splints for at least another two weeks. I have a brace on my right arm and right leg. I’ve been learning to use my left arm and hand, but with the burns, it’s hard to move. My face is wrapped in thin gauze as it finishes healing from the latest plastic surgery. I’ve seen myself in the mirror, and they tell me I’ll look better once the swelling goes down, but it scares me how different I already look. I’m no longer Stormy.
“Maisy, you have a life to get back to,” I start the conversation. “I’ll be in another facility for at least four weeks, maybe longer.” Because I don’t have a place to go and they believe I don’t have my memory, they’re putting me up. Plus, with both splints, I can’t care for myself. “After I’m done there, I don’t know where I’ll go.”
I haven’t been honest with Maisy either. She doesn’t know I have my full memory. She’s stayed by my side through numerous surgeries and procedures. She sat with me when a counselor came in to talk. Maisy has been a calming presence, but I can’t get attached. The longer she’s with me, the more her life is at risk too.
She told me she ran away from home at sixteen and has been hiding with an aunt in Northern British Columbia. She said she’d tell me more about how she found and saved me.
“I have nowhere else I’d rather be. I’m here to help you, and I already know where we’re going after you’re discharged. I have it all planned out. Don’t worry about it. You need to focus on getting better.”
She flutters around the room, avoiding eye contact. I can’t read her emotions, but something feels off. Her long black hair is twisted up at the back of her head. When she finally turns to face me, she still won’t meet my eyes.
Instead of pressuring her to be honest when I’m not being honest myself, I decide to ask the million-dollar question. “Where is that?”
“Montana. There’s a place that will help you get established somewhere safe.”
