“She’s darling,” Kat said drily.
“Always a ray of light,” Jessie agreed sarcastically. “She’s surly because her summer break is almost over. She has to go to summer school next week and she’s not happy about it.”
“Only one more week to lie around and do nothing,” Kat noted. “Poor baby. I wish I had that schedule.”
“What is your schedule for the day?” Jessie asked.
“Nothing exciting—reviewing court documents in the morning. Then some rich couple wants me to find out who’s dealing to their son. Philip Marlowe, I’m not.”
“Need any help? I could look over the docs and—”
“No ma’am,” Kat cut her off. “You’re supposed be giving both your body and your brain a break. Take a walk. See a bad movie. But no matter what, no work for you.”
Jessie was about to reply when her phone rang. By now she knew the number well. She answered immediately.
“This is Jessie Hunt.”
“Hello, Ms. Hunt. This is Nurse Janelle from the ICU at the Medical Center. Dr. Badalia would like you to come by so he can speak to you. When are you available?”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she said before hanging up.
She looked at Kat, who seemed to sense what was going on.
“Get dressed,” her friend said. “I’ll pour you some coffee and toast a bagel. You can be out of here in five minutes.”
“What about Hannah?”
“Don’t worry about her. I’ll keep an eye on her this morning. When I have to go, Instagram can babysit her.”
Jessie was already halfway down the hall to her bedroom when she yelled out, “Thank you!”
CHAPTER THREE
Ryan’s hospital room was kept dark and cool. The hiss of the ventilator came in a regular rhythm. It would have been almost soothing if Jessie could forget why it was there. The nurse had told her that Dr. Badalia would be in soon. As she waited, she studied Ryan.
He looked better than he used to. His coloring wasn’t quite as pallid as during her last visit and his skin seemed less waxen. If she squinted, she could imagine he was just sleeping. He still had his dark good looks and, with the sheet covering him up to his neck, one couldn’t tell that the body he worked so hard to keep in optimal shape had already started to atrophy.
But it was just an illusion. Just over two weeks ago, Ryan Hernandez had been the top detective for LAPD’s Homicide Special Section (HSS) unit, which investigated cases that had high profiles or intense media scrutiny, often involving multiple victims and serial killers. Now he was lying helpless in a hospital bed, stabbed in the chest by Jessie’s ex-husband while in their own home. It was too much to think about and she pushed the memory from her mind.
Dr. Badalia appeared at the door and she got up to meet him in the hall. He was a tall, thin man in his late thirties, and with his permanently severe expression, Jessie could never tell whether he was about to deliver good or bad news.
“Thanks for coming down, Ms. Hunt,” he said mildly.
“Of course. Do you have an update?”
“I do. As you recall, we removed Ryan from the medically induced coma last week. Late last night, for the first time, he showed some responsiveness to stimuli. So we reduced his sedation slightly to see if it could be replicated. It was. He was able to open his eyes and responded to a few ‘yes or no’ questions by blinking. We were able to briefly explain his situation, why he was on the ventilator, and so on.”
She couldn’t speak at first. The emotion of the moment hit her unexpectedly and a lump filled her throat. Only then did she realize just how much she’d been holding back the anxiety and dread all these weeks. What had only leaked into her consciousness when she was tired or frustrated now poured in.
“Are you serious?” she said. “That’s fantastic. Why didn’t someone call me?”
“It was quite late, past midnight. And to be honest, the effort seemed to wipe him out. After about six minutes he conked out.”
“Oh. What about this morning? Has he been awake today?”
“We actually decreased the sedative level about an hour ago in the hope of trying again. That’s why we called. I’m hoping that if he regains consciousness and you’re here, he might be able to communicate a bit more.”
“Of course,” Jessie said. “How long will it be?”
Dr. Badalia glanced into the room.
“How about now?” he offered. “It looks like he’s trying to wake up as we speak.”
Jessie looked over and saw that Ryan was indeed trying to open his eyes. It appeared to be a struggle, as if they were glued shut and he was trying to pry them open through sheer will. But it seemed to be working. They returned to the room.
“Ryan,” Dr. Badalia said. “There’s someone here to see you.”
Through squinted eyes, he watched as Jessie crossed the room and came over to him, taking his right hand in both of hers.
“Hey, babe,” she whispered. “It’s good to see you awake. Can you hear me?”
He looked like he was trying to nod. But whether due to the massive tube in his mouth or a lack of strength, he couldn’t make it happen.
“One blink for yes and two for no,” Dr. Badalia reminded him.
He blinked once. Jessie coughed to hide the sob of joy that rose in her throat.
“I know this is a lot to deal with,” she said. “But we’re going to get you out of here. It’s just going to take some patience, okay?”
He blinked again. Dr. Badalia stepped forward.
“Ryan, would you be willing to try a little practice exercise?”
He blinked yes.
Jessie was slightly annoyed. She had hoped to have a little time to talk to Ryan privately. But she pushed the irritation aside. The exercise was more important. Dr. Badalia continued.
“I’m going to ask Jessie to lay her palm flat with your palm on top of it. Then I’m going to ask you to raise a specific finger. Does that sound okay to you?”
Ryan blinked. Jessie unclasped their hands and rested her left palm on the mattress, then put his directly on top of hers. She looked up at him and smiled. His eyes crinkled, which she took to mean he was trying to smile back.
“I’d like you to try to raise your right index finger into the air. Can you do that?”
After what felt like an interminable pause, he lifted the finger slightly before letting it drop back down.
“That’s fantastic, Ryan. Now do you think you could try to do the same thing with just your pinkie finger?”
Ryan squinted and Jessie could feel his palm pressing weakly against hers as he managed to get the finger up just a smidge before it sank again.
“You’re doing really well, Ryan,” Dr. Badalia assured him. “Shall we try one more exercise?”
Ryan blinked once.
“Okay, this one is a little harder. I’d like you to try to pull all the fingers on your right hand inward to form a fist on top of Jessie’s palm. So whenever you’re ready.”
Jessie could feel Ryan’s hand shake slightly as he tried to curl his fingers in order to ball his hand into a fist. But nothing happened. He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly straining. One of the monitors off to the side began beeping faster than before.