Chapter 29
Sydney
A week later, I drive to work with a sense of foreboding. I can’t put my finger on it. I haven’t had any fragile patients in the OR lately that could potentially go downhill quickly. There haven’t been any issues with that silly alarm. Heck, I’m just impressed that I’ve managed to remember to set the darn thing.
But the whole way to work, I have that same uneasy feeling I’ve had so often recently. I look in my rearview mirror as I approach the light. I don’t see any sign of an Escalade anywhere. I shake my head. I’m sure I’ve been imagining them everywhere. Yet, then again, they are quite popular. Heck, I’m certain more than a few of the doctors I work with likely drive one.
It’s probably that, again, Matteo has disappeared like a ghost. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since the night he climbed into my bed. I should’ve asked Anthony if Matteo had access to the security code needed for the alarm system. But I wasn’t in a good place to handle the answer, whether it was yes or no.
An issue I plan to correct immediately. Love him or not, I need to regain control of my life. While his intentions may be good, the days of his access to our home are done unless he’s recommitting to me. There has to be something in that alarm system packet that shows how to change the code.
Why is my life like this?
Because you let it be, you damn fool. You’re smart enough to graduate top of your class in medical school, but can’t see what this man is doing to you. One kiss is all it took, and he had you dropping your panties like a bachelorette at a Magic Mike show. Ah! How easily that hot Italian put you under his spell after all he’s done?
I’d been tempted to reach out to him after not hearing from him in a week. Yet, this isn’t my first rodeo with my husband. And I refuse to chase after Matteo. I’d managed to decode his pleas that night. And I wanted to honor them. But I’ve already lost so much time to him. Given up years of my life, not understanding what happened. And whether he has things he needs to take care of or not, I’m not willing to keep going like this without an end in sight. We’re technically still married. He needs to talk to me.
I’m a busy woman. I have things to keep me occupied for the time being. Once the time comes, and I can’t do it anymore, I feel like I’ll know it. Whether it be meeting someone I’m interested in pursuing, or simply needing to move on from this part of my life. I’m in love with Matteo, but I can’t do this much longer. And it wouldn’t be fair of him to ask if he won’t tell me what’s going on. He’s had years to explain.
It is early afternoon, given I’d taken call for Broadie last night. It had been his daughter’s birthday, and I was happy to cover for him so he could enjoy the evening with his family. I had to take two patients to the OR for laparoscopic appendectomy. These are fairly routine procedures, but given the very late hour, I slept in until eleven this morning.
What on earth?
As I pull into the hospital parking lot, I notice a lot of commotion. There is a heavy police presence and multiple news crews on site. What could’ve happened?
The gated physician parking area is conveniently located between the surgical center and the ER. The last thing I need to do is enter the emergency room with all of the hubbub. But my curiosity is killing me. Again, my thoughts go to the increased security presence I’d noted over the last few months. Was there some celebrity in our midst the hospital had been protecting until their identity was leaked? Or had something tragic happened here?
I admit, I don’t stay up to date on the news, local or otherwise. My job is stressful. My marriage, even more so. I don’t need to be inundated with more negative events. It’s probably not smart. Yet, I depend on the constant influx of emails from my practice and the hospital system to advise if there is something concerning afoot. Had I missed something?
As tempted as I am to pull out my cellphone and check for an email, it seems best to get inside and ask my colleagues to fill me in. Reaching for my work bag, I exit my SUV, lock the car, and move toward the surgical center when I notice them. Two black Cadillac Escalades are parked in the surgical center parking lot. There are several men dressed in black suits and sunglasses meandering around their vehicles. One seems to be speaking into a phone or a walkie talkie of some sort. But beyond the fact that I’d once again seen these suspicious vehicles, these men appear to be looking in my direction.
As I make my way to our surgical office, there’s a definite sense of tension in the air. Hospital staff walk with heads bent, speaking in hushed tones. It’s odd. Glancing around, I notice additional men I suspect are security of some sort, dressed similarly to those in the parking lot.
Walking into the office, I immediately note a dull hum across the check-in counter. It’s lunch hour, thus the office staff is normally on break, and the waiting room empty. But today, Beatrice and several of the nurses are standing together in the reception area, looking up at the television there.
Dropping my bag onto Beatrice’s desk, I move around the counter to join them. “Hey, guys. What’s with all of the commotion?”
Sweet Beatrice reaches for me, pulling me into her arms. The action instantly has me alarmed. “Oh, Sydney. I’ve never been so glad to see you.”
“What? Why? What’s going on?”
“Well, I’d completely forgotten that Dr. Weston had asked you to cover the second half of his call shift last night. So, when I came in this morning and caught the woman’s picture on the news, I thought it was you and lost it.”
Angie, one of the full-time nurses on staff in our clinic, walks over to Beatrice, wrapping her arm around her shoulders. “See, she’s okay.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I still can’t believe it,” Rebecca says, her hand covering her mouth in shock as she turns away from the television and looks my way. “Apparently, someone attempted to abduct Dr. Patterson last night in the parking lot.”
My hand flies to my chest in horror. “Oh, my god. Is she okay?”
“Well, I’m sure she’s shaken up, but I think she’s going to be okay. She gave an interview at a press conference this morning.”
“Where did this happen?”
“Right there in the physician parking lot. She’d been here late with a patient she had to take to the OR who had a huge kidney stone. They grabbed her when she was leaving.” Rebecca says. “I think security normally offers to escort nurses to their car when it’s late, but Dr. Patterson said on the news that she’d done it so many times and was parked so close to the building, she hadn’t given it a second thought.”
My legs suddenly feel unsteady beneath me. The reality of the situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. How many times had I come and gone from the same parking lot? Then Rebecca’s words become clearer. This happened last night. Had it been a random attack? Or had she been targeted? Was it a vagrant, hanging out around the emergency room?
Michelle, one of our medical technicians, stands on her toes, changing the channel.
“Oh, turn it up,” Angie says, pointing to the screen.
My eyes flick up, landing on beautiful Alexis as she’s seated in a wheelchair, surrounded by microphones. Her long blonde hair is down around her shoulders, her face seems swollen and bruised. Her bright blue eyes, still radiant through her pain.
“It was scary. I don’t remember many details before the two men grabbed me. I’d been in the operating room, and it was late. In hindsight, I should’ve asked for an escort, but I’d never had any reason to be concerned before. I mean, I was parked so close to the exit doors.”
I was in awe of how brave she was to put herself out there. The whole event had to be incredibly traumatic.
“One guy was trying to cover my mouth with a handkerchief while the other was dragging me somewhere, so I kept kicking to try and get away.” She lifts a tissue to the corner of her eye, dabbing before she continues. “They wrapped my wrists in zip ties and threw me in the back of the car. One of them pushed a gun into my ribs. I thought I was going to die.” Her voice breaks. “But all of a sudden, one of them ripped my hospital ID badge from my scrubs and started yelling. I was so scared. It was difficult to understand what they were saying because their faces were covered. Then, before I could wrap my head around what was happening, the car came to a halt, and they opened the door and tossed me out.” She sniffles, and I realize I’m crying with her.
An elderly gentleman stands beside her wheelchair, running his hand up and down her back. As her body shakes under the strain of her tears, the man interjects, “I think that’s enough.”
As the press conference comes to a close, St. Luke’s administration takes the stage to ensure the safety of all patients and staff.
The camera returns to a close up of the news show’s journalist reviewing the details of the events, speculating that Dr. Alexis Patterson could have been targeted, given her family’s wealth and standing in the community.
“That poor girl,” Beatrice mutters.
“I still can’t believe it. That anyone could do something like that,” Michelle adds. “It’s the kind of thing you hear about happening some place like New York City or downtown Chicago. Not Hanover County.”
I drop into a seat in the reception area, my head spinning at everything I’d just learned. “I can’t help but wonder if the hospital suspected something was going to happen?”
Angie tilts her head in confusion. “Why would you say that?”
“I’ve been seeing a lot of security officers here over the last few months. I assumed there was some high-profile patient here they were trying to protect. But then this happened.”
“Well, that’s odd. You’d think if they had any inkling that something dangerous could happen, they’d insist on having security posted at every exit. Especially at nighttime.”
Rebecca’s right. Why go to the trouble of hiring all of these security officers if you weren’t going to properly utilize them to protect the patients and staff?
Driving home this evening is surreal. I requested security to escort me to my SUV, constantly looking over my shoulder the entire way home. But instead of feeling safer the closer I get to home, that niggling feeling crawling up my spine intensifies.
As I pull into my drive, I break down. Reaching into my purse, I grab my phone and attempt to get Matteo. It takes two tries to get the call to connect; my hands are shaking so much. But the phone immediately diverts to voicemail. He often works late, but I thought for sure he’d answer when he saw it was me. Yet I tried again with the same result.
Walking to the front door, I immediately have the thought that I’m so grateful he had the wherewithal to install the security system. I have no reason to believe any real threat exists as far as I’m concerned. But I’m thankful all the same.
I shut the door and engaged the alarm system before dropping my bag on the bench in the foyer. Letting out a shaky exhale, I walk to the front door and peer out the window beside it. Yet instead of feeling secure, my hair begins to stand on end.
Why Is that Escalade back? And why isn’t the man who was so preoccupied with my safety answering his phone when I need him most?