Free Forever Sheltered by Deanna Roy

said, and we both laughed so hard I almost fell out of the chair.
    My cell phone buzzed, but I had no idea where it was.
    “I don’t think you should get that,” Corabelle said.
    I struggled to my feet. “But it could be the good doctor,” I said, although there was no way that was true. I’d refused to give him my number. Said I’d contact him. Silly me.
    The phone was out on the coffee table. “It says St. Anthony’s Hospital,” I told them. “Maybe they’re hiring me back.” I fumbled and hit the talk button.
    “Give me that!” Corabelle hissed and took the phone. “This is Corabelle, assistant to Tina Schwartz.” She flashed me a horrible look, but this just made me giggle. I plunked down on the sofa.
    “No, she isn’t here at the moment,” Corabelle said. “Can I take a message for her?” She looked around for a piece of paper, saw none, and snatched up a pen to write on her palm. “Okay, got it. Yes. That’s great. I’ll let her know.”
    “Well, good news.” She set the phone back down. “The director of the hospital wants to see you first thing in the morning about enrolling in some program. Sounds like you may have your job back.”
    No way. Things never went right for me. Somebody had pulled a string. A big one.
    I had underestimated the doctor.

Chapter 14: Darion

    Cynthia wasn’t in her hospital bed when I checked on her that afternoon. A quick glance at the empty bathroom told me no one was there. Panic threatened to consume me as I jerked my phone from my pocket to call Nurse Angela. Cynthia’s ANC was under one hundred. She had no immune system to help her fight off contagion right now. None. Anything could happen.
    Staph infection.
    Fungus.
    Bacteria.
    God, even the common cold could kill her right now.
    I paced the small room as I rang Angela. She was a nurse. And smart. She would make sure Cynthia was double masked. They were probably outside in the courtyard getting some air. That was safe enough as long as they watched what they touched, who they talked to.
    Angela answered within two rings. “I’m going to have to call the alert code,” she said without any greeting. “I assume you’re in her room?”
    “Yes.” I strode straight out the door. “How long has she been missing?”
    “Ten minutes. Should I call the code?”
    A missing child was a Code Amber to alert the staff. Cynthia was willful and prone to wandering since she knew I was near, so I asked Angela to hold the code unless we had to call it.
    “You checked the art room?” I asked.
    “First thing. It was empty.”
    Nurses looked at me curiously as I passed. I was probably radiating fear. “Where are you now?” I asked.
    “Heading to the cafeteria. She talked about ice cream earlier. Maybe she thought she could sweet-talk someone into some.”
    I didn’t bother to ask how Cynthia got away. The girl was sly. If Angela went to the bathroom, or even nodded off for a few minutes, my sister would find a way to escape her room.
    Particularly to find Tina.
    I snapped the phone shut. I had to bring myself down. I couldn’t seem overly alarmed for a doctor asking after a patient. But my heart was practically beating outside my chest. Why did Cynthia do this? Maybe we would need to put an IV back in her just to keep her tied down.
    I blew past the art room, then slowed down and turned around. How carefully had Angela looked in there?
    I headed for the door. Tina was gone, so it was surely unused. My stomach turned over again just thinking about her holding that box of possessions.
    It opened easily. Like Angela said, the room was silent and forlorn. The walls were blank, and the string to hold drying artwork cut across the room with nothing but clips on it.
    I stepped inside. I could picture Tina standing by the cabinet, clutching a box of paints, so mad at me she could almost spit fire. The grief of the loss of her added to my upset. These past few days simply could not have gone any worse.
    I turned around to