Page 149 of Wasted
“Right. The police.” Cillian looked down at the phone in his hand, navigating to the list of recent calls. “I suppose they’ll want to talk to me and Vicks.” That must be why Robert wanted them to come to the hospital.
“I was thinking they’ll want to grab Briscoe’s real killer.”
“At the hospital?”
“Yeah.” Robert kept his focus on navigation as he answered. “Sydney texted me. She was trying to get ahold of Vicki to tell her she’s having the baby. That’s when we noticed Vicki had left our dad’s.”
“We went outside to see if we could catch her,” Hank picked up the story like a smooth handoff, “and we saw her purse in the snow.”
Robert nodded. “Her car was still there, along with tire tracks from another vehicle.”
“We knew something was wrong, so we called the police right away.”
Cillian glanced back at Hank. “Good thinking. But what makes you think Warren is at the hospital? He drove us out there to leave us for dead. I don’t think he’d go back to town and see his sister.”
“Sydney said he was driving her to Rampart Memorial.”
Cillian stared at Robert. “You’re kidding.”
“Not a bit.”
“Okay. I’ll call Willis.” Cillian put the phone to his ear and was quickly transferred to the lieutenant. First time the man sounded pleased to hear from Cillian and didn’t question anything he said about Warren being the real murderer or that he was currently at Rampart Memorial with his sister.
If he hadn’t just dropped her off and left.
Cillian ended the call and looked at Robert. “Willis said he’s sending the cops to Rampart with more backup.”
“At the moment, I’m more concerned with getting Vicki there on time.” Hank’s tone carried a warning that sent a shiver through Cillian. “Faster, Rob.”
Robert pressed the pedal harder, earning a slide from the tires. But he steadied the truck and kept driving at the same speed.
“I know neither of you are praying men, but you might think of saying a prayer for Vicki.”
Cillian jerked his head toward Hank in the back, dropping his gaze to Vicks.
Her face was so pale, lifeless.
“I’m a praying man. Now.” His gaze found Hank’s.
The younger guy’s eyes widened. Then he gave Cillian a single nod.
Cillian took in a breath. “God, Vicki would say you already know what’s happening here. Save this beautiful, amazing woman. Please, heal her.” The prayer emerged awkward and halting at first, but Cillian kept going. He would do anything for her. Give his life if he could. But all he could do now was this—pray to the God she’d always wanted him to believe in. And he did believe now. With all his aching, worried heart.
So he prayed all the way to the hospital, only stopping when Robert careened into the recently plowed parking lot.
The red letters, Emergency Department, glowed above the entrance where three squad cars were parked, lights flashing.
No cops in sight. Maybe they’d gone inside after Warren?
“Keep an eye out for the Warren kid.” Robert braked beside one of the squads, close to the entrance.
Cillian would love to nail the punk who had shot Victoria. But she came first. “I’ll get help.” He jumped out of the truck and sprinted to the building, the automatic glass doors opening too slowly in front of him.
“Help!” He glanced around, looking for a nurse or orderly.
“This way.” Robert grabbed his arm, then let go as he darted around the corner to the left.
Cillian hurried after him, spotting a desk just ahead with two women in scrubs behind it.
