Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ethan had slept with his wife for the first time in six years, though he hadn’t touched her except to comfort her when she seemed unsettled. She’d barely been aware of him.
He’d awakened often, sure it had all been a dream. But she remained beside him. In fact, she’d slept for sixteen hours, and counting.
Her breathing wasn’t shallow or irregular, nor was she using her neck or intercostals to aid in getting air, so she wasn’t in respiratory distress. She was taking about fifteen breaths per minute—normal range.
Yes, he’d counted. What else did he have to do?
Her breath didn’t smell sweet, so no diabetic ketoacidosis. Which made sense, considering that, as far as he knew, she didn’t have diabetes.
He’d checked her pulse the old-fashioned way more than once—fingers to veins in the wrist.
It was normal, as was her temperature, so no fever. Probably no infection.
Her lips were chapped. Combined with the pallor of her skin, that told him she was dehydrated. She was far too thin, clearly malnourished, probably anemic, which would also account for her pallor. And her exhaustion.
She wasn’t sick, she wasn’t dying. Nothing plagued her that a few good meals, plenty of water, and lots of sleep wouldn’t heal.
But the longer she slept, the harder his diagnosis was to believe.
He stood at the window, eating and barely tasting one of the pastries he’d had delivered the afternoon before.
Outside, Changsha was waking up. An old woman walked a dog no bigger than a loaf of bread.
A scooter threaded the gap between a sedan and a delivery truck.
Across the street, people waited at a bus stop, staring at their phones.
That particular habit seemed to cross every culture.
Thin clouds blocked the blue sky. Considering that the people on the street were bundled in coats, it must be chilly outside. Which made sense—it was November, after all.
Though light filled the room, Mei Lin hadn’t stirred.
He settled into the chair he’d carried in from the kitchen after his quick shower. It wasn’t comfortable, but he didn’t want to leave her side. Aside from the shower and occasional trips to the kitchen for food and drink, he’d stayed with her, wanting to be there when she woke up.
She’d mumbled in her sleep more than once. He’d heard his own name once, uttered in distress, and something that sounded like ay-ee, which, if he remembered his Mandarin lessons, meant auntie.
Mei Lin’s other words had been gone before he could identify them.
When he’d first fallen for her, he’d started learning Mandarin, wanting to understand her better. Not literally—her English was excellent. But language and culture were linked. If he didn’t at least have a cursory understanding of Mandarin, how could he truly know the woman he loved?
When he’d given up ever seeing her again, he’d deleted the language app from his phone. If he’d had any idea…
He’d have done a lot more than learn her language. He’d have found her and brought her home. He’d have done anything to protect her.
He definitely would have ignored all the people who told him to move on.
He couldn’t think about that right now. There’d be plenty of time to beat himself up for everything he’d done and hadn’t done once they were safely out of China.
Mei Lin had grown restless a couple of times. Her breathing had sharpened, and once, her fist had clutched the sheet. She’d curled up as if protecting herself from something, or someone.
Ethan had calmed her. He wasn’t sure if it’d been his hand on her shoulder or his voice telling her she was safe, but she’d settled again.
One time, around three, her eyes had opened and met his. “Not yet,” she’d said in perfect English. “Please, don’t leave me yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, ever. I promise.”
He didn’t know if she heard him or if she’d been awake at all. Within seconds, she was sleeping soundly again.
Ethan tossed the empty pastry wrapper into a trash can. It was torture, being with her but not being able to ask her questions. Studying her face—still beautiful despite the dark circles and sunken cheeks—but not hearing her voice or seeing her eyes, or understanding anything.
A little after seven, she shifted in the bed. He stared at her, waiting, praying she’d wake up.
And then she blinked a couple of times and sat up abruptly. “You’re here.”
“Where else would I be?” He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled. “How you feeling?”
As if she’d used too much energy already, she settled back against the pillows. “Okay, I think.”
“You were pretty tired.” It wasn’t easy to keep the concern out of his voice. “When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?”
Her head tilted on the pillow. She focused on him as if she were seriously contemplating the question. “January of twenty-twenty.”
Twenty-twenty…what? Twenty-five? Twenty-four?
But she was done.
She’d quit communicating with him on January seventeenth of that year, just as the pandemic had gained ground in China. She’d been working extra shifts at the hospital to try to deal with the influx of patients. She’d been tired and busy, but she’d never gone a day without texting or calling him.
And then…nothing.
“Six years ago?” He kept the words lighthearted. “That explains why you slept so long.”
Her eyes widened. “Too long? I’m sorry. I should not—”
“It’s okay. I’m glad you slept.”
“I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” She scooted back as if she’d just remembered he was a threat.
Ignoring the fury that kicked the bottom out of his stomach, he lifted his hands, palms out. “Mei Lin, it’s fine. You’re fine. You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“Okay.” She pulled the blanket up like a shield. “I’m sorry.”
Stifling a sigh, he stood and backed toward the door.
“I assume you need the bathroom.” When she said nothing, just looked at him with that terrified expression, he pointed at the sack of things he’d bought the day before.
“Change clothes, if you want. I’m going to start breakfast. Are eggs all right? ”
She blinked, her eyes wide. “I can do it. You don’t have to—”
“I want to, sweetheart. Do you need anything?”
Like so many of his questions, that one seemed to confuse her. “I don’t think so. I’m a little…I’m sorry.”
“You don’t—”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I will try to stop apologizing.”
“I’ll cook the eggs when you’re ready, so take your time.”
“I will hurry.”
He forced himself to turn, to step out of the room and walk away.
She needed space, and he could give it to her, even if the thought of letting her out of his sight terrified him.
In the kitchen, he cracked eggs and whisked them, then found a pan and added a pat of butter.
He’d bought a whole bunch of groceries the day before, unsure what she’d want or what they’d need.
He doubted they’d eat a quarter of what he’d paid for.
He eyed the box of protein bars. Those, he’d keep handy.
His wife needed dense, nutrition-rich calories, and those would work in a pinch.
He brewed two cups of tea. He’d eaten all the pastries, but she needed protein, anyway. Maybe she hadn’t eaten a decent meal since January of twenty-twenty either. She’d always been thin, but not like now.
When they’d first met, she’d been obsessed with CrossFit. He’d never understood the draw of the crazy workouts, but Mei Lin loved the competition and teamwork.
“You can do so much more than you think you can!” He could still hear the enthusiasm in her voice. “Just come one time. You’ll love it.”
He hadn’t loved it, but he’d loved her enough to try it. His workouts were for solitude and thinking through the day’s cases.
For Mei Lin, workouts had been an event.
Now, she looked as though she barely had the strength to hold herself upright.
He set the steaming mugs on the table, then filled two glasses with bottled water.
With nothing else to do, he leaned against the counter, scrolling through travel sites.
If they hurried, they could get on a train and be in Hong Kong by early afternoon, even sooner if they caught the high-speed rail.
Gavin had texted him, telling him to attach a ticket to her ID and buy the tickets to the train they would actually take with cash.
Ethan didn’t like the idea of signaling that they were going to take a train, even if they took a different one.
But what if he bought a flight and attached it to her ID, and then paid cash for the high-speed train?
Considering the time it would take to get to the airport, get through security, and wait at the gate, the train would be just as fast or faster.
If he timed the flight to leave after the train, then they could be out of town before whoever was after her realized she was gone.
He shifted to looking at flights. Plenty left Hong Kong for Canada tonight. The US would be better, but she needed a visa. Right now, Ethan just wanted…
He sensed movement and looked up.
Mei Lin stood in the kitchen doorway as if waiting for permission to enter. She wore a pair of navy joggers and a peach-colored T-shirt. The clothes were too big, though. Maybe he should’ve shopped in the children’s section.
But she was there. She was alive and breathing. The rest, he could deal with. “There you are, beautiful. Are you hungry?”
“I can cook.”
“So can I.” He nodded to the table. “Have a seat. I made you some tea.”
After she sat, he focused on the stove, giving her a moment to get settled.
When the eggs were finished, he spooned them onto two plates and carried them to the table.
“You did not have to do all this.”
He set a plate in front of her and sat. “It’s a pleasure to serve you.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Sorry I keep saying that. I’ve forgotten… I don’t know how to be…me.”
He let that statement roll around in his head. Who had she been for the last six years?
More questions to add to the growing list. As soon as she finished eating, he was going to start asking them.
“You’ll find yourself again, sweetheart.” He reached across the table, hand open.
She slipped hers into it.
He closed his eyes and breathed through a wave of frustration and gratitude. “Father, thank You that we’re together. You know everything we need. We trust You to keep us safe and lead us home. Bless our food. In Jesus’s name, amen.” He opened his eyes.
It’d been a short, simple prayer, but now she was crying.
“What is it? Are you—?”
“I’m good. I’m so—” She managed to stifle the sorry before it escaped, pulling her hand away and swiping the tears.
“It’s all right, Mei Lin.”
At the sound of her name, she met his eyes.
He smiled. “I’m overwhelmed too.” He guessed she felt at least a little like he did. “We’re going to get through this.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Step one: finish your eggs.” He made his voice stern, and she almost smiled before picking up her chopsticks.
He ate a few bites with a fork he’d found in the drawer, forcing himself not to stare. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.
When he polished off his breakfast—she was only halfway through hers—he stood to wash the dishes.
“Leave them for me,” Mei Lin said. “You cooked.”
“I got it. Finish your—”
His phone rang.
He glanced at the screen. Only Gavin had his burner’s phone number, and it wasn’t Gavin. He ignored the call.
The Signal app Gavin had insisted he download chimed ten seconds later. Ethan dried his hands and read the message.
Answer your phone.
Who in the world…?
It rang again.
He connected the call. “Hello?”
“This is Michael Wright.” The man’s voice was steady. “I’m Gavin’s nephew, your cousin.”
“Oh. Gavin told me—”
“Listen carefully,” Michael said. “You need to leave. You have three minutes. Don’t call for a car or taxi.
Stay on foot. Go out the back. Stick to alleys.
When you reach a main road, turn right, cross, and then go left down the next alley.
Keep your phone on. I’ll have a driver meet you. He goes by Taibo.”
Mei Lin had gone very still, chopsticks suspended above her plate.
“I don’t understand,” Ethan said. “How will—?”
“They know where you are.” Michael spoke slowly and carefully. “And they’re coming for her.”
Adrenaline pumping, he met Mei Lin’s eyes. “Three minutes?”
“Two and a half,” Michael said. “Go.”