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Hell, maybe she could use that in her favor.
So far Della hadn’t tried to explain the mess of the upended boxes and files littering the floor. But if the guard kept talking crazy, maybe Della wouldn’t have to.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. How long would it take for Chase to get here? Any minute now, the woman would be calling the police.
Della had hidden her driver’s license, credit card, and phone in her bra, but if they searched her and found them … and, God forbid, attempted to call her mom … No way could Della let that happen. Her mom had enough problems to last a lifetime.
She looked at the door, wondering how much trouble she’d be in if she ran. And she could run: Mrs. Applebee had confiscated the guard’s gun and put it in her desk.
Just when the idea of running seemed like a real option, she recalled the cameras on the outside of the office. They had her face.
Where was her rescue?
Right then her left breast started vibrating. Well, her phone started vibrating. Luckily, she’d silenced it before breaking and entering.
She glanced again at the door. What was taking them so long? Crap. She suddenly remembered that Steve probably thought Chase was still at the school. Which meant Steve would have sought help elsewhere. Her chest tightened and she expected to see a very pissed off Burnett walking through the door any second.
But right now, she’d even take him.
“I’m telling you, she was throwing boxes at me using her mind. She has powers. I’ve seen shows about people who can do that.”
Mrs. Applebee frowned. “Mr. Kelley, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” Then the woman’s gaze shifted to Della. “Tell me your name or I’m calling the police, young lady!”
* * *
After Steve had finally spit out the words, Chase went inside and in less than thirty seconds dressed in his official black suit. Tasting his breath, he reached into the garbage can, grabbed the Lysol spray, and gave it a shot. It was mostly air, not disinfectant.
Or maybe not. He fought the urge to puke again.
Handing Steve his car keys, Chase told the shape-shifter to meet him at St. Mary’s. Face it, in the dark sky, there was no speed limit or rules about driving after one too many drinks.
In record time, he landed to the side of the hospital. He ran a hand through his hair and patted down his suit. Amazing how flying at a hundred and forty miles an hour could sober a person up.
Not that he knew a lot about sobering up or being drunk. Sure, he drank a glass of Eddie’s Scotch when offered, but this had only been his second time to ever drink enough to cause a buzz. And, like the first time, he didn’t like it.
He walked around to the front of the hospital, relieved there weren’t any police cars. God, he prayed they hadn’t already come and taken her away.
Della needs you. Steve’s words echoed in his head. He’d never heard sweeter words. And hearing them from Steve made them all the sweeter.
He went to the glass doors, picked up the phone, and pushed a button.
“Can I help you?” a male voice asked.
“Yes, I’m here about the situation. The break-in. Here,” he said, looking around for a camera. “I’m holding out my badge.”
The bell dinged and Chase walked in.
He figured he had a snowball’s chance in hell of actually pulling this off without someone calling the FRU office and eventually getting Burnett involved, but Steve had said she’d asked for him, not Burnett. Since her life wasn’t in danger, and no risks were involved, there was no way he was going to disappoint her.
Never mind that she’d disappointed him by trusting Steve with this whole plan without even telling him about it. Chase just hoped the whole date thing had been part of their cover-up.
* * *
A knock came at the office door and Della held her breath with hopes that it was her savior. She wasn’t even picky. She’d take anyone. Anyone over a real cop who would call her parents.
“Yes,” Mrs. Applebee called out.
A nurse popped her head in the door. “Someone’s here about the girl.”
