Which is why I can kind of understand why she did the things she did.
She was promised a family and was told I was part of a bad coven. It’s not an excuse. You’d think hanging out with me would clue her in that I had no ill intent. Still…I get it. I get wanting to be part of a family. To have people there for you when times get hard, or even just when you have a shitty day and want to vent.
She screwed me over. Tried to hurt me. Put my guys at risk. Jacques got hurt because of her. I want to be mad at her. I want to hate her.
But I don’t.
* * *
“Excuse me,”I say to a nurse passing down the hall. “What happened to the woman who was in this room?” I turn away from the empty hospital bed. Gemma was here less than twenty-four hours ago, and the last time I saw her she wasn’t in that bad of shape. I don’t think she’d get moved to the ICU or that she took a turn for the worse, but my stomach flip-flopped as soon as I saw that empty bed.
“Ummm,” the nurse starts, eyes going to my badge. “Let me find out.” She goes to a desk on the opposite side of the hall and leans in, whisper-talking to the charge nurse. “There’s a cop here asking about the patient in three-oh-seven.”
I wasn’t going to play this angle, but if it helps I will. There are strict laws in place regarding what medical staff can tell others about their patients, but over the years I’ve noticed people are willing to give me info I want just because I’m a cop. Technically, they shouldn’t give up any info without the proper paperwork.
“Hi,” the charge nurse says, standing from the desk. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Detective Bisset with the Philly PD, and I have some questions for the woman in that room,” I say, pointing behind me. “She was there yesterday. Did she move rooms?”
The nurse shakes her head. “She left this morning.”
“Left?”
The nurse’s lips press into a thin line and she looks down at her computer as she taps her finger on the desk. She wants to tell me something she shouldn’t.
“Yes, with her family.” The nurse inches forward. “I don’t think it was her idea,” she adds quietly.
Gemma’s aunt and uncle are Amish, so it makes sense they’d want to discharge her as soon as possible. I think. Maybe? I actually don’t know much about the Amish culture.
“She was pretty banged up,” I go on. “And had to be given blood. Is it safe for her to be in a non-hospital setting?”
The nurse shakes her head. “We tried to get her to stay, but she insisted and there was nothing else we could do. I assume you’re going to look for her?”
“Yes. She’s needed for questioning,” I repeat, keeping to my story.
“Good. Check on her for me? She was a sweet girl. Reminded me of my daughter.”
“I will.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Nodding, I turn away, the bad feeling in my stomach growing. I’m mad at Gemma, but deep down I care about her. And being taken from the hospital by two people who don’t approve of witchcraft isn’t a good thing.
She’s in trouble. I can feel it.
