Jason was taken aback by the weak, small voice in his head. What the hell was going on? Finding his voice, he said, “Someone tried to kill your sister.” He glanced toward Hanna’s cubicle. A crushing anger boiled up from deep within his gut. “The guy who attacked her has killed at least three other times we know about and he didn’t mean to leave Hanna alive. I’m not giving him a chance to finish the job.”
Oh God, he’s here . . . He’s here! Don’t let him near Sarah!
The panicked voice echoed in Jason’s head. He stood, his gaze darting around the unit. Everyone around Hanna seemed to belong there. An orderly approached her cubicle. Jason wasn’t sure what set the man apart, but the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stiffened. He took a step toward the cubicle. For an instant, their eyes held. The orderly shoved past a nurse and raced through the double doors.
“Stay with her. Don’t leave her for any reason,” Jason shouted to the nurse as he rushed toward the exit.
He dashed out of the trauma unit, but the corridor was empty. He moved around the corner. It was deserted. He jogged the opposite direction into the crowded waiting room and approached the nurse at the desk.
“Did someone just come through these doors?”
“Just you.”
Jason took a quick glance around the waiting room before returning to Sarah’s side. His heartbeat raced as he clenched and unclenched his fist.
“Detective, what’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
Jason rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “He was here.”
“Who?”
“The man who attacked Hanna.”
Sarah stood, her eyes skimming the trauma unit. “How do you know he was here? Did you see him? Do you know who he is?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know he was here?”
His gazed settled on Hanna. Your sister told me. And I’m losing my freaking mind.
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Crimson Romance
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Copyright © 2017 by Nancy Crisp Weeks.
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First Crimson Romance ebook edition March 2017.
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ISBN 978-1-5072-0441-2 (ebook)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
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