Under the Cover of Darkness

29 | Carson

A million thoughts ran through my head on the drive to the hospital.

Foremost of them was the thought that I was doing the wrong thing.

I mean, what exactly was I doing? I had no plan, no idea what I was going to say to this woman I had never met that would convince her to give me the whereabouts of her daughter, no backup. Nothing.

Even if by some miracle this encounter did pan out and I did find out where Alex went, then what? Do I just show up? And say what?

After that last night I had a feeling she would not appreciate my unexpected presence in her life. She was probably moving on and healing right this minute.

A lump of despair and pain settled in my stomach.

Gripping the steering, I tried to reign in my rapidly spiraling thoughts.

One thing at a time, Carson. One thing at a time.

First I needed to find her. After I made sure she was safe and sound and not in any sort of danger I would then figure out how to approach her and fix whatever I broke.

With something that resembled a plan, I was able to calm down and focus on the road.

Saint Theresa Memorial Hospital was what I expected from a typical hospital.

It was a multi-story building, its facade made of clean, pale gray and white concrete. Large, clear windows were strategically placed throughout the building, allowing natural light to permeate the interior.

I took a deep breath and turned off the engine. Getting out of the car I adjusted my jacket. There was no going back now.

The main entrance was a grand affair, flanked by symmetrical columns. A prominent sign with the hospital's name and logo stood proudly above the entrance, making it easily recognizable from a distance. The entrance was wheelchair accessible, with ramps and automatic sliding doors.

The entrance led to a spacious, well-lit lobby with a high ceiling. The walls were adorned with soothing artwork and informational posters. A large, welcoming reception desk sat just inside, teeming with nurses in their red scrubs. Comfortable seating areas were scattered throughout, offering a place for visitors to wait. Half of the chairs were already occupied.

I walked up to a freckled redheaded nurse who was typing away at her computer.

“Morning,” I started, unsure. “Um, I'm here for someone.”

Without looking away from her screen she reached behind her and grabbed a clipboard. “You'll have to fill this out, sir.”

I stared at the paper and realized I was at fault. “I'm sorry, I should clarify. The person I'm here to see isn't a patient. She works here. She's a nurse.”

That was what it took to get her to stop clacking away at the keyboard. She raised her blue eyes at me and her eyebrows scrunched up almost immediately. I recognized that look, she was trying to place where she'd seen me before. I instantly wished I had my sunglasses on.

“You're looking for a nurse?” she asked, her voice just a little protective.

“Um, yeah. Lucinda Holdman, do you know her?”

Her frown deepened. “What do you want with Luci?”

“She's not in any kind of trouble, I promise, I just need to ask her a few questions,” then I added something I didn't usually say to just anybody. “Please.”

My plea must have come out with the right tone because immediately I saw her eyes soften a bit and some of the defensiveness leave her face.

“Alright, have a seat, I'll find out where she is.”