Page 87 of The Broken Keys

“I need to know where Livianna Hemings is. The paramedics told me they were bringing her here.” My insides continue getting wrecked as panic crawls through every cell of my body.

The receptionist at the emergency room desk, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a name tag that reads “Sandra,” types something into her computer.

She frowns at the screen and types again. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have anyone by that name in our system.”

“That’s impossible. The ambulance brought her here less than an hour ago. She was in a car accident in Malibu. They cut her out of the car with the jaws of life.” My voice rises despite my best efforts to keep it steady. “She has to be here.”

Sandra’s expression softens with sympathy, but her answer doesn’t change. “I understand you’re worried, but I don’t show a Livianna Hemings admitted to this hospital.”

“Then check again. Maybe you spelled it wrong. H-E-M-I-N-G-S.”

She types slowly and deliberately, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry. There’s no one here by that name.”

This doesn’t make any sense. The paramedic specifically told me they were bringing her here.

“Sandra, can you check recent admissions? Car accident victims from the last hour?”

“Sir, I can’t give out that information without authorization from immediate family members.”

“She could be dying!” I explode as my nerves are shot.

Several people in the waiting area turn to stare. Fucking hell. I probably just tipped off everyone who recognizes us that Livianna’s been in an accident. This is one situation I really don’t want the media to get wind of.

I lower my voice, but the desperation bleeds through anyway. “Please. I just need to know if she’s okay.”

Sandra glances around, likely checking whether security needs to be called. “Sir, I understand you’re upset, but I can only give information to immediate family members. Are you related to Ms. Hemings?”

“Her parents and brother are on a yacht somewhere near Spain. It’s not easy to reach them. I’m the closest thing to family she’s got right now.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not the same as immediate family.”

My hands curl into fists on the counter. I wanna scream, demand answers, and tear this hospital apart until I find her. But none of that will help Livianna.

“See this dried blood.” I hold my hands out to show Sandra. “It’s Livianna’s. I was with her when she wrecked. They told me they were bringing her here. Please, if there’s anything you can tell me, I need to know.”

Sandra gazes at me with a stream of empathy. “All I can tell you is sometimes famous people are admitted under aliases to protect their privacy. I know who you are and I know who she is. She’s likely here under one of those, but I can’t see that in my database.”

I step back from the desk, my heart hammering so hard it feels like it might crack my ribs.

Think, Cash.

There has to be another way to get the information I want. The detective. The cop who took my statement at the scene gave me his card. Maybe he knows something.

I pull out my phone and realize it’s still Livianna’s. “Goddammit!”

I storm out to my car and tear her purse apart. My phone is at the bottom of her bag.

“Finally!”

I find Detective Martinez’s card in my wallet. I dial the number as I stomp toward the emergency room doors, pacing along the sidewalk.

It rings three times before he picks up. “Martinez.”

“Detective, this is Cash Mayze. We spoke at the accident scene in Malibu about an hour ago. The one with the black SUV that fled the scene.”

“Right, the hit and run victim. What can I do for you?”

“I’m at the hospital where they told me they were taking Livianna Hemings, but they’re saying they don't have anyone by that name. Do you know if they used an alias to admit her, or did they take her somewhere else?”