Page 58 of The Vegas Rerun
“Try me. One.”
She hesitates. Her gaze flicks to the door, then back to me. She’s calculating, looking for an angle, a way out.
“Two.”
She stands up slowly like her weight has doubled since she sat down, and she can’t quite control her body. Her face is pale now, sickly looking, but there’s still venom in her eyes.
“You’ll regret this,” she hisses.
“Three.”
I calmly take my cell phone out of my pants pocket and begin to dial nine one one. I have only pressed the nine key when she whirls around and storms out.
I follow her down the main hallway and stand and watch as she reaches her workspace and grabs her jacket and her purse and a few personal effects off her desk. She ignores the questioning stares of Frieda and Patty and when she’s done, she pushes past me and continues towards the elevator. I keep following her, watching her every move as she makes her way down the corridor. Every person who sees her gets out of the way like they know something’s happened. Maybe they do. Word travels fast here.
I get into the elevator with her, watching her quietly fume beside me, and I cross the lobby with her and watch her leave the building. I don’t look away until she’s out of sight. Then I turn back toward my office, my cell phone once more in my hand.
I call the building security and inform them that Sarah Dawson is banned from the premises effective immediately. I tell them that her access credentials need to be revoked, herpasswords removed from the systems, and her keys collected. She is not to return under any circumstances.
“Understood,” the officer on the line says. “Do you want us to file a report with the police about anything?”
“Not yet,” I reply. “There’ll be an official police report soon enough.”
I hang up and go back upstairs. I stand in the quiet of my office, staring into space for a moment. My pulse is still hammering and my throat dry. I did it. I got her out. I expected to feel better about this than I do, but even though her reign of terror might be over, the damage she caused is still bleeding through the cracks.
God. I should’ve seen it. I should have paid more attention when Molly told me she didn’t do things that it appeared she had to have done. I should have stopped things long before they went this far. But I didn’t and I need Molly to know that I see it now, that it’s dealt with, and she will be safe if she wants to come back to work and that I promise to never dismiss anything she tells me ever again.
There’s only one place I need to be now and it’s not in the office, dealing with the gossip of the staff, or talking with the lawyers or HR.
No, right now, I need to be with Molly.
Because everything that happened to her - the bruises on her face, the bandage on her ankle, and the tremor I feel sure would have been in her voice when she woke up in that sterile hospital bed - it’s all because I didn’t protect her in time.
And I don’t care what it takes. I won’t make that mistake again.
CHAPTER 39
JOSHUA
I leavemy office once more, this time with my jacket and my things. I pause at the reception desk before getting into the elevator and tell the receptionist that I will be unavailable for the rest of the day. I go down in the elevator and cross the lobby without any interruptions, but I’m still glad when I make it to my car without anyone stopping me to ask about Molly or Sarah.
I get into my car and put it into drive and then I make my way across the parking lot and pull out onto the main road. The traffic is heavy but not too heavy. I’ve avoided the lunch time rush, and I’m a bit early for the end of the working day rush. I make decent time getting to the hospital and when I do, I park and get out of the car.
I walk across the parking lot and then across the grounds towards the entrance where a small group of smokers huddle together having their fix, including a woman in a wheelchair and wearing pajamas, clearly a patient, and several others pulling drips along with them. I pass through the cloud of smoke, barely noticing the smell.
I move through the front doors with purpose, but my insides are anything but steady now that I’m here. The adrenaline from firing Sarah and then from the manic drive over here is still wearing off, leaving behind a sort of shaking exhaustion in its place. There’s a dull ache behind my eyes, and I’m aware that I haven’t eaten in nearly a day, having skipped breakfast and then not having had time for lunch yet.
The way I feel doesn’t matter. None of it does. I just need to see Molly.
The hospital smells like antiseptic and old coffee, a familiar smell that seems to permeate every hospital. I look at the list of floors and which wards are on each of them, but there’s nothing that jumps out at me that covers Molly’s situation. There’s chest and respiration which isn’t her issue, cardiology, oncology, gastro, none of which suit Molly. There’s the psych ward and the surgical ward and the contagious diseases unit. But it seems like there’s nothing for someone who has been hurt.
In the end, I give up trying to work it out, knowing that I will have to ask someone. I go to the front desk, where a pretty blonde receptionist looks up from her computer at me. She smiles, a professional smile that widens her mouth and doesn’t touch her eyes.
“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?” she says.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m here to see Molly Matthews. Can you tell me which room she’s in please?”
The nurse taps her keyboard, and squints at the screen.
