Gideon’s own team had investigated the letters, too, finding nothing but dead ends. It was possible the sender had been incarcerated during that gap in time.
“You’re saying this isn’t over yet.” Daniel’s voice was firm and unemotional.
“The worst is over. Ireland is home. But yes, you should all remain hypervigilant,” she confirmed. “Limit your risks—however and whenever you can.”
Voices in the hallway, at least one familiar, drew their attention away from Shelley and toward the doorway. A moment later, a short balding man in a physician’s white coat appeared, stepping aside to gesture Chris and Christopher into the room before him. Boudreaux was seated directly opposite the doorway but escaped their notice behind the newspaper.
“Good evening,” the doctor greeted them with a brisk nod and hasty smile. “I’m Dr. Earnshaw. I’ve been looking after Ireland since she was admitted.”
Gideon was already on his feet. He shook the man’s hand. “We’ve heard generally how she’s doing.”
“I’ll fill in any gaps.” Earnshaw waited until everyone was either seated or facing him before continuing. “We’ve determined that she’s not concussed. An MRI was ordered before admitting her because she presented with a subgaleal hematoma—commonly known as a ‘goose egg’—and complained of a severe headache and nausea. I’m still waiting on the radiologist’s report, but we’ve talked and agree the scans show no evidence of a brain bleed.”
“That’s good news,” Eva spoke so firmly that Gideon knew she was trying to keep everyone focused on the positives.
“It is, yes,” Earnshaw agreed. “Ireland was deprived of food and water since sometime Friday evening. Her symptoms alsoindicated severe dehydration, so we started intravenous fluids, which reduced their severity.”
The doctor’s tone softened. “She also had a vicious bite on her right earlobe, which has been stitched, but you’ll likely want a plastic surgeon to consult with her to mitigate the scarring.”
Eva dug into her pocket for her phone. “I’ll text Teagan now. I believe she has hospital privileges here.”
“Teagan Ransom?” Earnshaw asked. When Eva nodded, he nodded, too. “She does, yes.”
Dr. Teagan Ransom, known to TV viewers as “Doctor Midtown,” was a lauded cosmetic surgeon and a vital member of the brain trust Eva had assembled to develop ECRA+’s cosmeceutical line at Cross Industries. Teagan and her artist husband split their time between Seattle and Manhattan, but Garrett had an upcoming exhibition in the city, and they’d attended the masquerade.
Chris cleared his throat, but there was still gravel in his voice when he spoke. “Did they hurt Ireland…in other ways?”
Earnshaw understood the question. “No, she was not sexually assaulted. She was handled roughly but thankfully spared that.”
It felt as if an intense pressure was released from the room in a collective sigh of relief and gratitude.
The doctor continued, “Altogether, Ireland has a sprained left elbow, abrasions on her knees, feet, arms, and thighs, as well as contusions on her left temple, right cheekbone, and right thigh. She’s missing a chunk of her hair, which will take several months to a year to grow back. The regrowth may be a different color.”
Gideon’s breath shuddered as a cold sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. His stomach roiled with nausea. Bile filled his mouth, and he struggled to swallow it down.Ireland…
“We’re going to keep her overnight for observation,” the doctor went on, “but she’ll be able to go home tomorrow and resume normal activities as soon as she feels up to it.”
Chris’s eyes closed for a long minute, his lips moving silently as if in prayer.
Eva’s phone pinged with a text notification, and she read it quickly. “Teagan’s on her way.”
“Can I see my daughter now?” Elizabeth asked, leaning into Daniel’s side.
Earnshaw nodded. “As soon as she’s settled in her room, yes. And someone can stay with her overnight, if you like. Just let the concierge know, and they’ll arrange for the guest bed to be prepped. Once we ruled out a concussion, I gave Ireland a mild sedative and something a little stronger for the pain. She’s comfortable and drowsy, and it’s late. If the police need to speak with her, they should wait until morning if possible.”
Shelley stood and pulled her phone from her blazer’s inner pocket. “I’ll give the detectives an update.”
“We won’t keep her up long,” Christopher promised.
Still on his feet, Gideon shifted to look past the doctor to where Boudreaux sat waiting. With limited time afforded to them, the man could wait to see Ireland another day and show himself out. If Gideon’s mother or sister had a problem with that, he had the doctor’s advice to back him up.
He cursed under his breath.
The only thing sitting in the chair was a discarded, folded newspaper.
Ireland lay propped up in a hospital bed, floating in a dreamy haze of calm and comfort. She felt mostly nothing, and the peaceof detachment put a small smile on her face. It seemed almost like floating in and out of a pleasant dream.
The patient suite they’d wheeled her into was very large, with a leather visitor’s chair that clearly extended into a single bed, a dining table set for two beneath a square window, and a well-appointed bathroom.
