Page 22 of Protected from Torment

She takes a shaky breath. “I… I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have called.”

Her tone tells me this isn’t a just checking in sort of call. She sounds nervous. Uncertain. Even scared. “It’s fine,” I tell her. “Is something wrong?”

Around the conference table, my teammates lean forward. Relaxed postures tense. Just from my few words, they’re immediately on alert.

“You said… if I ever needed anything… to call you.”

My fingers tighten around the phone. “You’re right. I did say that, Mel. What’s going on?”

Across the table, Rafe raises his eyebrows in question.

I shake my head slightly and shrug. But I have a sinking feeling it isn’t. Not from the way Melissa sounds on the phone.

“Um…” Melissa hesitates. She sniffles. “Something happened. Last night. And I’m not sure… I think I need help, but I—” A small sob slips out. “I don’t know what to do.”

Concern transforms into full-on worry. “What happened? Can you tell me?”

“Last night… A man broke in. To my house. And he—” Another broken sob sounds in my ear. “He hurt me. And Oscar…”

“What?” My voice rises. “Someone broke in? Who? What did he do? How badly are you hurt?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. “He broke in through the kitchen. And he hit me. My wrist…”

She starts crying. “Oscar. I haven’t seen him. I don’t know… if he’s really okay. The police, they said he was, but they won’t bring him here. And I’m so scared. What if he’s hurt and they’re not telling me?”

Fuck.

I stand up, too anxious to sit still. “Mel,” I say, trying hard to keep my voice calm. “How badly are you hurt? Is there anyone with you?”

“No,” she replies, answering my second question, but not my first. “I can’t tell my parents. They’re so far away. And I can’t put them in danger. If the man—” Her voice breaks. “I just want to know if Oscar is okay. And… I’m scared.”

Before I can respond, she starts crying again.

My heart gives a painful wrench.

A sense of urgency sweeps through me, more intense than anything I’ve felt in years.

Go to her, it says. She’s in trouble, and she needs you.

“Hello?” Suddenly, a new voice comes onto the call. “Who am I speaking to?”

Even though the caller ID says Melissa’s at the hospital, I’m immediately suspicious. What if the number is spoofed, and Melissa’s actually been abducted? What if I’m actually speaking to her captor, about to receive some sort of ransom demand?

I’d figure out a way to pay it, of course. Not just because it would be the right thing to do, but shit, it’s Melissa. I like her. A lot.

“I’m Tyler McNamara,” I shoot back. “And who are you?”

Despite the bite to my tone, the woman sounds completely unfazed as she replies, “I’m Elizabeth. A nurse at Amsterdam Hospital. I’m helping take care of Melissa. She’s a bit worked up right now, and it’s not good for her. So I’m going to talk to you, instead.”

I drop back into my chair and flip my laptop back open. One-handed, I start searching for information on employees at Amsterdam Memorial Hospital named Elizabeth. “Okay,” I say as I type. “What can you tell me about Melissa’s condition? How badly is she hurt? If she was attacked, is there a police guard on her room?”

“Hang on,” Elizabeth says. There’s a low murmur of voices in the background. “Okay. Melissa gave me permission to tell you. She has a broken wrist, a moderate concussion, and she’s suffered significant bruising.”

“A concussion? A broken wrist?”

“What’s going on?” Indy hisses from the chair beside me. “Who’s hurt?”

I ignore his question in favor of firing more at the nurse. Who, my hasty search reveals, is most likely Elizabeth Hastings, a registered nurse typically assigned to the third floor at Amsterdam Hospital, where I’m assuming Melissa is. “Is she stable? When was she brought in? What about the police guard?”