Page 11 of Every Last One
“They are on the hospital website along with the entire emergency response notebook. We need to think about the safety of all our patients and visitors. It’s there for them to see before coming.”
Sandra imagined the hospital was prepared for several contingencies, but there was no need to squander time exploring the others right now. “What’s on the fourth floor?”
“The fourth houses the cardiology and neurology units.”
“Critical patients,” Brice said.
A knot formed in Sandra’s gut, but she pushed the sickening feeling aside. The job demanded her focus, not her emotion. “Which I suspect was intentional, just like their reason for being here today. Just like their reason for shutting down communication. They want to make sure we don’t interfere with their plans.”
SIX
11:01 AM
There were a few misdirects with Gibson hearing radio communications, but none of them came from inside the hospital. Sandra was waiting impatiently for some beacon of hope, a way to connect to those inside. She considered asking if there was a bullhorn she could get her hands on, but there was no point. Even if it was powerful enough to reach the gunmen inside the hospital, the problem was with logistics. In this situation, it wasn’t like they could drop a throw phone at the front door and have a gunman come get it. Not with all the floors locked down and with the hospital system being offline.
Uniformed officers kept Brice and Monica busy pulling information on vehicle registrations. For Sandra, every passing minute felt like twenty, and she caved and pulled out her phone to check the time. She saw she had a missed call and a voicemail from fifteen minutes ago. It was from Dana Ford, her mother’s nurse. If she hadn’t silenced her phone upon arrival, she would have heard the call.
Sandra’s heart sped up, and she excused herself from the command vehicle. Margo Davenport and her late husband adopted her and her twin brother, Sam, when they were twelve. She was seventy-one and battling Alzheimer’s. Some days, it feltlike Sandra was living suspended over a precipice prepared to lose her. Not that one was ever ready for the loss of a loved one. And she should know. She’d buried both her parents, and her precious twin brother. Sam was stolen at fourteen years old when he was shot during a hostage situation. After him, she’d lost William Davenport, their adoptive father.
Outside, she didn’t bother to listen to the message because the only reason Dana would call was if something was wrong.
Listening to each ring, waiting for Dana to pick up, was painful.
“Hello? Sandra?” Dana eventually answered, saving her from the brink of voicemail.
“Tell me everything’s okay.” Her words rushed out.
Dana hesitated. It was slight but telling, warning Sandra that the news to come was going to be upsetting.
“Your mother fainted and?—”
Sandra’s world closed in around her. “Is she okay?”
“When your mother fell, she broke her wrist. It twisted when she landed.”
It seemed strange that a fall was all it took for that to happen, but bones typically became more brittle with age. “When did this happen? Where is she now? I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Sandra was prepared to rush to her mother’s side. She hadn’t established contact with anyone on the inside. Brice could assume the lead, and another secondary negotiator could be brought in.
“It was just within the hour, but please, don’t worry yourself too much. We’re at Howard University Hospital. Guess there’s a situation at Founders.”
Howard was only a sixteen-minute drive away. “I’m there actually.”
Dana was quiet for a few beats, then said, “Stay. There’s no need for you to upset your workday. Mrs. Davenport is receivinggood care. Her wrist has already been bandaged, and they’ve given her some medication to help with the pain. She’s content enough, but she’s in quite a dazed state. I’m sorry to say that it’s more than likely she won’t remember you right now. She keeps asking me why I’m hanging around.”
Sandra detected sorrow in Dana’s voice at that admission. She was technically an employee, but she lived in Davenport Manor with Margo. In such proximity, a bond had developed. The way Dana referred to Margo formally wasn’t the true reflection of her fondness for the woman. And Sandra knew Margo hadn’t been well lately. Sadly, refusing to acknowledge that ugly truth didn’t change things. She was torn between staying and leaving. No one would judge her if she left. She pinched her St. Michael pendant, as if it could tell her the right thing to do. It was passed on from her father, a career cop, after he died in the line of duty. Then it was passed on to her twin brother. When he was murdered, Sandra took it as her own. It never left her neck. Wearing it made her feel like the two of them were always with her. And her late mother too, who overdosed after her husband’s death to ease her grief.
“Ms. Vos, I sense your struggle, but she is being taken care of. There’s nothing you could do for her if you were here anyhow. You can help people where you are.”
It was uncanny how Dana had read Sandra’s mind, but this wasn’t the first time. A part of her realized Dana was being logical. Really, there wasn’t anything Sandra could do for Margo. It would be about herself and appeasing her conscience. Margo was in good hands between the doctors and Dana at her side. Here at Founders, Sandra could make a difference. “What’s next then? Do they know why she fainted?”
“That will be the next step. From what I understand, they’ll be doing bloodwork and some other tests to see if they can determine the cause.”
“They don’t know?” Sandra’s breaths were shallow, as if the permission for the next inhale depended on what came out of Dana’s mouth. She really had to pull on her training to remain calm when a personal crisis came up.
“No, but please don’t let it stress you out too much. We should know soon and be able to address the matter. My mother always told me that worry is a waste of time. For all our greatest fears, rarely do any of them come true.”
Dana was right, but Sandra was still fighting against her fear. Another loved one leaving her behind. She cleared her throat. “Did they say how many tests, or how long they would take?” Sinking into mission mode would keep her moving forward.
“No, but you must know what hospitals are like. They operate on their own schedule.”
