Free You Can Run... by Carlene Thompson Page B

continued. “Now if you’ll have a seat in the waiting room, I’ll let you know when the doctor who is examining the child can speak to you.” Diana continued to stare at the woman, unable to close her mouth completely as shock ran through her. “Ma’am, if you will
please
just have a seat—”
    “Yes. Okay. A seat. I’ll have a seat,” Diana said vaguely. She turned away from the reception desk and ambled toward a crowded waiting room, her mind whirling. Tyler Raines had called, told Simon he’d found Willow, and that the paramedics had said Willow seemed physically fine. He had appeared to be so concerned about Willow earlier that Diana had been certain he would come to the hospital and find out what the doctors had to say about the child.
    But he hadn’t. Tyler Raines had simply handed over the little girl to the paramedics at the explosion site and disappeared into the night.

CHAPTER FOUR
1
    Diana didn’t know Tyler Raines, but he hadn’t struck her as the kind of man who would give a traumatized five-year-old girl to strangers, even if they were paramedics, then just abandon her. Driving Simon’s car. Surely, he could have waited to see if the child he’d seemed to care about was all right. Instead, he’d vanished as quickly as he’d arrived. Why?
    Because he couldn’t do anything for Willow? Because he hadn’t wanted to get involved? Diana wondered. That’s certainly not how he’d acted when he helped at the scene of the raging fire, when he’d insisted on driving her and Clarice home, when he’d rushed straight back to Penny’s house so he could search for the little girl. Why would he be so hellbent on finding Willow, then not wait to see what the doctors had to say about the child’s condition? Why . . .
    “Ms. Sheridan?” Diana jerked slightly in surprise. A slender man wearing a white coat and wire-rimmed glasses stood in front of her. His face was young, but streaks of gray laced his brown hair, and fine wrinkles surrounded his kind, dark-gray eyes. “Nurse Trenton at the desk tells me you’re here about Willow Conley.”
    “Yes. How is she?”
    “First of all, I’m Doctor Evans.” He sat down beside Diana, his expression sober. “Ms. Sheridan, I don’t mean to be rude, but what is your relationship to Willow Conley?”
    “None.” He blinked at her. “I mean, I’m not a blood relative, but I’m her mother’s closest friend. I know there are hospital rules—Nurse Trenton reminded me—but I’m the only person available to come tonight.”
    The doctor smiled. “Usually we do abide by the rules, but there are always situations calling for exceptions. I think this is one of them.” The doctor’s manner immediately became cool and analytical. “Willow shows no signs of physical trauma—no burns, lacerations, or even bruises. However, I’ve ordered several tests to rule out internal injuries, especially because when I was examining her, I saw she’d had an appendectomy on Tuesday.”
    “She just came home this morning.” Diana realized it was after midnight. “Or rather, yesterday morning.”
    “Willow’s incision looks fine—no tearing, no signs of infection. Still, we want to be sure all is well with her, especially after such recent surgery.” Dr. Evans paused. “Before the appendectomy, Mrs. Conley listed Simon Van Etton as the person to call in case of emergency if she was not available.” He paused, adding reluctantly, “I know Mrs. Conley is in the burn unit. I caught a glimpse of her when they brought her in, but I didn’t treat her.”
    “She’s not going to live,” Diana stated flatly.
    “We don’t know that yet. Even massively burned patients survive these days with all of the new broad-spectrum antibiotics available.” He tried to look encouraging and failed, falling back to a detached, professional tone. “Ms. Sheridan, we know nothing about Mrs. Conley except that she’s widowed and Willow is her only child. Her doctor will need more