Free Code Triage by Candace Calvert Page B

somebody special. Like she’d moved on, moved up, gotten her whole pathetic life figured out, now that Kurt wasn’t in the picture anymore. He laughed out loud. Until yesterday, that is, when she’d screwed up royally and the cops came down on her like the loser she was. He’d seen the news. She was being investigated again. Stupid, stupid girl. But still . . . My girl. My kids. Nobody was going to change that. Or keep him away. No court, no Child Crisis investigator, no old geezer of a guard in some hospital.
    He looked down at his scrubs, the ones he’d taken from Kristi’s closet before trashing the place. Good thing she wore them baggy; they almost fit him. It had been easy to slip into Golden Gate Mercy. He’d gotten to the pediatrics floor without a problem, slick as snot. And he’d been close enough to see his kids in that room. Not close enough to violate the restraining order, but near enough to see the look in Kristi’s eyes when she caught a glimpse of him. She’d seemed confused, uncertain—he looked different: hair, beard, and weight too, probably—and then he’d seen what he’d wanted: a small flicker of fear.
    She should be afraid. They all should. No one was going to make him give up and go away. He was a man. And even if those kids didn’t have his name, they were his family.
    He sniffed, rubbed at his nose, and then fumbled in the folds of the 49ers jacket on the seat beside him. Until he found the gun.
    He squinted at the porch light once more, then started the car’s engine and drove away.

Chapter Six
    Riley reached for the stairway doorknob and hesitated, fighting a crippling wave of fear that she’d prayed would stay behind in Texas. Stop this. Open the door. It’s safe now. She peered up and down the hospital corridor, still dimly lit at this early hour, then turned back to the door. She twisted the knob. No one was following her. No one wanted to hurt her. No one would—
    “Riley!”
    She jumped, gasping, and turned toward the voice.
    “Oh, sorry.” Gilda Watson, the heavyset hospital operator, chuckled and shook her head, sending her short dreadlocks bouncing. “For a plus-size woman, I’m afraid I have a knack for sneaking up on a person. Didn’t mean to scare you, darlin’.”
    Riley pulled her hand from her chest, willing her breathing to return to normal. She smoothed the strap on her sling and dredged up a smile. “Oh, you didn’t, really. I feel so silly for jumping like that.” And remembering lying at the bottom of parking garage stairs with a broken neck.
    Gilda glanced toward the far wall. “Elevators down again? Or are you getting some exercise?”
    “Yes,” Riley said, “exercise, I mean. Or penance. Cappy’s wife brought pecan cookies yesterday. And the cafeteria made banana nut bread.”
    Gilda held up a fleshy palm. “Say no more. Been there. Ate those.” She checked her watch. “But it’s barely seven. Why are you here so early?” Her deep amber eyes filled with compassion. “Did we have a death?”
    “No,” Riley reassured her. “I wanted to check on a family that’s been admitted up on peds. A mother and her two children. They had a rough time yesterday.”
    “And you thought you’d try and make it easier for them. You’re a blessing, Riley. I mean that. I was just telling the new girl down in PBX that God knew what he was doing when he sent you here from Texas.”
    Riley felt her face flush. “Now what am I supposed to say to that?”
    Gilda laughed. “Amen?”
    “Well, thank you,” Riley said, watching as the woman started back down the hallway. “See you at Faith QD?”
    “‘Faith every day.’ Wouldn’t start my shift without it,” the operator called over her shoulder. “I’ll be there. Count on it, darlin’.”
    Riley reached for the stairway door, then let her hand drop. It was trembling. She’d do this stair hike tomorrow—or the next day. And pray there wasn’t a fire or other elevator-disabling event in the