Who is investigating this? Someone has to pay!
“Where are the police?” I ask the nurse at the station.
The lady points to two uniformed officers. As I get closer, they are talking about fantasy football teams. Seriously? My sister is fighting for her life, and they are talking about fucking sports?
“Excuse me. Hate to interrupt your fantasy football conversation, but have you guys figured anything out about Room 234? I’m her sister, and the hospital won’t provide any answers.”
“Someone handed her off to an ambulance worker and took off.”
“What about the boyfriend? Has he not been here yet?”
The police officer’s eyebrows furrow. “No one has been here besides you, ma’am. Do you know her boyfriend’s name?”
I try to think back to our conversation, but I don’t recall her mentioning his name. “No.”
“We can’t do anything without a name or statement. Once she wakes up, we start an investigation.”
“Can’t you interview her neighbors? See if they noticed anything unusual? You standing around seems like a waste of tax dollars to me.”
The officer on the left snickers. “You need to calm down. We are just following orders.”
What the hell ever. Instead of getting even more upset, I go back to Lacey’s room. My head bows next to the bed, waiting for her to wake up. “I’m here. Don’t leave me.”
Lacey is younger, merely twenty-one, and works full time at a security company on the side to help pay for expenses. Maybe someone at work knows something. I stroll back down the corridor.
“Pardon me? Could I look at my sister’s things?” I request.
The nurse hands me a bag with a phone inside. After it powers on, there are three voicemails from Hudson.
“Where have you been? You’ve had us worried,” the guy on the other end demands.
“This is Lacey’s sister. I got your voicemail, but she’s in the hospital.”
A thud comes over clear as day, and then his voice reappears. “What happened to her?”
“Not sure. Came in beaten and bruised. Still in a coma.”
“What hospital? I’ll be right down.”
“Memorial. Room 234.”
The phone beeps, and he is gone. Most employers don’t rush to the hospital. She isn’t absurd enough to fool around with her boss, is she? Number one rule in the workforce for a woman: Never sleep with your boss.
Her injuries worry me, but I will give her until tomorrow before calling our parents. I go to a little shop down the hallway, and come back to find a man standing next to my sister’s bed.
“Who are you?” I ask from the doorway.
The man is dressed in a well-tailored suit with a military cut and just a slight hint of stubble.
“I’m Hudson. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
He walks closer to me and puts his hands into his pockets. “Any news about what happened?”
At this point, my mind is going through different scenarios.
“Not a damn thing. Where were you two nights ago around ten?”
His hand flies up in the air. “I’m not the type to hit women, if that’s what you’re suggesting, especially employees.”