Still nothing from Cassie.
He’d checked her room already—sticking his head in on his way to the bathroom—and found her suitcase, her violin, all of it still there.
Proof she hadn’t run off.
And yet she still hadn’t come back.
He checked his phone again.
No reply.
He dropped the phone onto the table harder than he meant to, and Margie glanced over her shoulder, caught the look on his face, and made a sound under her breath.
“What?”he asked, too sharp.
Margie spun around, brandishing a soapy spoon at him.“Now don’t go actin’ like an ass in my kitchen.”
“I’m not,” he bit back.“I’m just—”
“Oh, I know exactly what you’re doin’,” Margie huffed.“Been that way with her since the summer she started fillin’ out.Ain’t changed a lick, I guess.”
Nash shoved his chair back.“Yeah, well, I kept better track of her back then.”
“You know she don’t keep her ringer on,” Margie called after him.“Maybe she met up with Luey and got to talkin’—oh, hell…there he goes.”
Nash swung his truck slowly through the main lot at Wierswood Medical, eyes moving row to row for Cassie’s little rental.The sun was still up—low enough to turn every windshield into a goddamn sheet of glare.
He didn’t see it.
Which didn’t mean a damn thing.Folks parked wherever they wanted around here—in the grass, up on curbs.Hell, she could’ve gone in through the emergency entrance or pulled down a side street.Either way, squinting at windshields wasn’t going to conjure her up—so he parked and headed for the main doors.
Inside, a semi-circular desk framed the quiet lobby.The security guard seated behind it lifted a hand in greeting.
Relief flickered—small and stupid.If Nash was going to get stonewalled, he’d rather it be by somebody he knew than some brand-new rent-a-cop.
Ray Ellis was good people—unofficially, of course.A familiar face at the garage now and then, and once or twice, when the club needed something they couldn’t exactly walk into a drugstore and buy, Ellis had helped out in a pinch.Not for free.Not as charity.But because life in these goddamn hills was complicated, and favors were better currency than cash had ever been.
“Walker.”Ellis smiled at his approach.“Don’t tell me you’re needin’ stitches again?”
Nash stopped at the counter, rapping the wood with his knuckles.“Not today,” he said.“Wondering if a Cassie Berry came in today.Five-foot-nothin’.Dark hair.Damn hard to miss, if you know what I mean.”
“Hell, I haven’t seen a pretty face in days.”Ellis laughed, turning to his screen and pulling the keyboard closer.“Only been on since five,” he added.“Lemme check.”
Nash folded his arms over his chest, scanning the faces in the lobby beyond.A nearby elevator dinged, opened, and out came an orderly pushing a cart, his sneakers squeaking across the floor.
Ellis stopped typing.“Cassandra Berry,” he read.“Yeah, man.She came in this mornin’.”
Nash’s annoyance tightened into focus.“She still here?”
“Naw,” Ellis replied, still reading.“Looks like she wasn’t even given a visitor’s pass.”
And just like that, he was annoyed all over again.“Why not?”
“Looks like…patient she was askin’ for weren’t here.”
Nash’s eyes narrowed.“Weren’t here?That girl was in a goddamn coma two days ago—”
Ellis’s fingers stilled.He glanced up, surprised.“Coma?Ain’t heard nothin’ round here about a coma.You got a name on the patient?”
