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Like a cockroach, scurrying toward a tiny hole, never getting slapped or stomped on.
That was David.
“Tell me how you’re feeling, buddy.”
It wasn’t a chuckle that left his busted lips, but an attempt at one. “I’ve had better days. Doc is mostly worried about my lungs and spleen. Hoping it’s nothing too?—”
“We need to take you in for X-rays,” a nurse said as she poked her head into the doorway. “We don’t know if you’ll be coming back to this unit or going onto a floor or straight into surgery. Best say your goodbyes now.” She held up her finger. “I’ll be back in one minute.”
The moment she was gone, Brady said to Diesel, “Have the police been by yet?”
“Not yet,” Diesel answered. “I was only in this room for a couple of minutes before you guys came in.” His mouth was the only thing that moved when he talked. His face was too puffy to blink or wrinkle, to even raise his eyebrows.
“I’m sure they’ll be here at some point to question you,” Brady told him.
As if my stomach couldn’t go any lower, it practically sank to the tiles beneath me, my mouth filling with a salty taste from the tears.
“You’re all set with your story?” Brady inquired.
Diesel gave him a thumbs-up.
Brady then softly put his hand on Diesel’s shoulder. “We’ll be back to check on you. If you need anything in the meantime, you know how to reach me.” He walked to my side of the bed and put his hands under my arms, helping me get up.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I said to Diesel.
“I’ll be all right,” he voiced to me.
Just all right?
That wasn’t a good enough answer.
I needed certainty.
I needed a guarantee.
“I’ll be back as soon as they let me see you,” I whispered through a sob, and I let Brady take me out of the emergency department, the cool evening instantly slapping my wet face.
I couldn’t take another step.
Not until I knew what they had been talking about.
So, I halted under the awning by the exit and waited for Brady to look at me. “What is he telling the police?”
“Nothing. He’s paid to keep his mouth shut.”
What did this mean?
Why couldn’t I process anything?
“What about the footage from the cameras at the hotel?” I asked. “Won’t there be proof?—”
“There is no footage, Lily. With the renovation, the security feed is choppy at best. It hasn’t been working correctly since the rehab started on the floors of the hotel.”
That wasn’t true.
I knew there was footage. I’d heard Brady ask about it at the restaurant.
“Are you telling me the truth?” I pressed.
