Free Scared Yet? by Jaye Ford Page A

to go, just found herself fifteen minutes later driving into the hospital grounds. It was where she’d intended to go when she left the office. Her subconscious must have held onto the plan. Or maybe her father would always be her safe haven.
    She bypassed the multi-level parking station, following the road around the main hospital to the original old brick building that now served as the hospice, her brainslowly emerging from its fright. Okay, okay, take a breath. She’d just panicked because she was bruised and tired and overwrought.
    She pulled into a spot near the hospice entrance, eyed the note on the passenger seat. The three words were smallish and scrawled, written across the middle of the page. No, she hadn’t panicked for nothing. The man with the balaclava and the fists had come back.
    She found Kelly’s old phone in her bag and the detective’s business card.
    â€˜Detective Sergeant Quest.’ It was Rachel’s neutral voice but loud and forced. She was outside somewhere, yelling over the roar of traffic.
    Liv told her about the note.
    â€˜Where are you now?’ Rachel asked.
    â€˜At the hospital.’
    â€˜Are you hurt?’
    â€˜No, I’m visiting my father.’
    There was a short pause. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was so ill. I’m going to be tied up with work until late. Can you put the note in a plastic bag and bring it into the station tomorrow? I’ll send it off for fingerprinting so try not to handle it any more than you already have.’
    Rachel spoke as though she got calls about assailants and threatening notes every other day. Maybe she did. Maybe nothing surprised her.
    â€˜Should I be concerned?’ Liv asked.
    â€˜Hold on.’ Rachel spoke unintelligible words to someone else and the sound of a large vehicle came and went in the background. ‘Sorry about that. I think a reasonable level ofconcern is appropriate at this point. Make use of whatever security precautions you have at home, don’t take any unnecessary risks and call triple-0 if you’re worried.’
    She’d wanted reassurance, not safety instructions. She pressed her lips together, fought back the image of a black-clad man lunging at her. ‘Okay.’
    Rachel yelled, ‘Hey, over here,’ to someone on her end of the phone. ‘I’m sorry, Livia, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    Liv folded the phone closed, shoved the note in her bag out of sight and looked around the parking area. ‘Don’t go to unpopulated places on your own,’ Rachel had said at the station. It was after one, slap-bang in the patient rest period. All she could see were cars and wide-open space. The epitome of unpopulated.
    As she stepped out of the car, her eye pulsed in the gloriously sunny afternoon and strands of hair fluttered against her face on a gentle breeze. The lot was maybe a third full, vehicles scattered randomly about. She strode quickly to the entrance, pushed through the door into the hushed atmosphere of the Palliative Care Unit and paused a moment to slow her breathing. Anxious and uneasy was no way to greet her father. He didn’t need it and she didn’t want to spend the waning days of his life with him that way.
    â€˜Jeez, what happened to you?’ Liv’s favourite nurse looked aghast at her from the nurses’ station.
    â€˜Hey, Wendy. Bit of a mishap. How’s he doing today?’
    â€˜Oh, he’s in good form. Being a real hard-arse.’
    â€˜Just the way I like him.’
    Liv tapped lightly at his door then pushed it open, saw his wasted shape under the sheet and smiled for him. ‘Hi, Dad.’
    He watched her walk across the room and sit beside his bed, said nothing for a long time. Liv rested her forearms on the edge of his mattress and waited while he took in her face, her hand, then her face again. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than it used to be