Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
J
I’m still not sure if Finn threatened me last night. Because it sounded like a threat, even though we were talking about a hypothetical.
And while, usually, that would result in me going into a frenzy to find out every secret of his so I can protect myself, I somehow don’t feel like Finn is my biggest enemy.
I lift my phone and stare at the text that Kelly sent me early this morning.
We need to talk.
I wish she’d sent me that on the Jinx phone, but since last night, my Jinx phone has been strangely silent.
We need to talk.
There are two problems with those words—the first is that I’m not ready to talk to Kelly because I’m about forty-eight percent sure she’s an imposter and thirty percent sure she’s mentally unstable.
The second reason is that Kelly has access to this hospital. She can spring on me at any moment because my entire life is inside these four walls.
The only people who have ever carried me away from this place are Gran and Finn.
One of those people is dead.
The other wants me dead.
So, I don’t have many options in terms of hideaways. But even if I did, I’m bound to come back to the hospital anyway. My heart isn’t good enough for me to survive on the outside.
Kelly was relentlessly calling Jinx. She’s going to find me anyway. I need to figure out what I’m going to do about her.
Footsteps pound in the hallway, and I whip my head up, anticipating Kelly’s face peering through the window.
But it’s Dr. Kenji.
He walks in, looking sober and tired. His hair is sticking up all over his head, which is how it normally looks after a surgery, and his lab coat is wrinkled.
“Hey, Doc.” I greet him distractedly. “Did you sleep in the ward again?”
“J, we need to talk about your lab work.”
There are those four awful words again.
Ping!
I scramble to the edge of my bed when I see the notification.
“What’s wrong?” Dr. Kenji’s eyes shift from sleepy to alert, and he immediately looks over his shoulder as if he anticipates someone barging in and raining gunfire on us both.
Courtney, Kelly’s high school friend, answered my DM.
COURTNEY: Are you from Netflix?
My eyebrows scrunch together. Netflix? Why would she ask that?
“J, this is very important. In your test results—”
“Yeah. Yeah. I know what it says, Doc. I have a bad heart.” I scoot out of bed and push my feet into my comfortable Crocs. “Sorry. Can we talk another time? I have to check something.”
I grab my jacket and purse and fast-walk to the door.
“Where are you going?” Dr. Kenji asks, keeping up with me. “You’re not well enough to leave the hospital.”
I try to move faster than him, but it’s wasted effort, and I end up huffing and puffing loudly.
This is embarrassing.
“I’ll be fine,” I grumble, eyes on the door. “I won’t overdo it, Doc. I swear. I just have to do one quick errand, and I’ll come back, and you can tell me all about what’s wrong with my results then.”
Dr. Kenji shakes his head, making his eyeglasses slide a little down his nose. “J, this isn’t something you can brush off. Your heart is—”
“Oh! Good morning!” Martina waves from halfway down the corridor. Her dark brown eyes sparkle at me, and she’s holding a plastic bag with containers inside.
I wave back enthusiastically, seeing a way out. “Martina!”
“Yes, yes.” She shuffles to me, her grin wide enough to reveal one gold tooth. “It is good to see you up and about, J.”
“Dr. Kenji, this is Martina. She’s… a friend of a friend. Sort of. You can consider her my guardian for now.”
Dr. Kenji opens his mouth to protest.
I back away from him. “Tell her whatever’s wrong with me, and she’ll loop me in later. Okay? Martina…” I gesture to Dr. Kenji.
Martina, the lifesaver, hooks her arm around Dr. Kenji’s. “Doctor, how old are you? I have a beautiful niece who just got her law degree. Her name is Jesusita, and you seem just her type. She loves the K-pop songs and she’s even been to Korea…”
“I’m Japanese,” I hear Dr. Kenji dryly informing Martina as I escape to the elevator and respond to Courtney.
ME: I’m not from Netflix. I’m a friend of Kelly’s. She’s going through a divorce right now and her husband is dragging her character through the mud. I want the friends who knew her to write a statement standing up for her.
ME: Can we meet?
The elevator lets me out on the first floor, and I plod through the busy emergency room.
COURTNEY: Is this a prank?
ME: What do you mean?
COURTNEY: Kelly went missing six years ago. Her body still hasn’t been found.
COURTNEY: I thought Netflix was doing a documentary about it.
What?
I stop in the middle of the lobby.
Kelly isn’t dead or missing. She’s alive and well, and she’s in a horrible marriage with a rich hedge-fund-managing jerk named Shawn who wants to divorce her.
So what’s up with that story about Kelly being in the psych ward?
Something isn’t adding up.
ME: Can we meet somewhere? I have more questions.
Courtney stops responding.
I grit my teeth. Why is she ignoring me?
She might be at work, J, my rational side argues.
I don’t care if she’s at work. I want answers now. Can’t she put me out of my misery and tell me where we can meet?
At that moment, a familiar figure walks through the automatic double doors at the hospital’s entrance.
My watch beeps at the sight of her.
It’s Kelly.
I backpedal as quickly as I can and press my back against the wall around the corner. Kelly’s steps are light and urgent as she jogs to the elevator at a speed I can only dream of.
I peer around the corner. Kelly puts her phone to her ear as she waits for the elevator to arrive.
At that moment, my phone rings loudly.
My heart lurches to my throat and my watch shrieks. It’s such a high-pitched sound that it pierces the fog of conversation from the emergency room.
Kelly whirls around to locate the source of the ringing. I duck out of sight, put my phone on silent, and try my best to breathe.
Inhale.
Be still…
Exhale.
And know…
I wait a few more minutes, terrified that when I peek around the bend, Kelly will be right there, staring me down.
Inch by inch, I ease out of my hiding place. I look past waiting patients, busy doctors and nurses, and the other hospital personnel.
No Kelly.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I take cautious steps to the door and hustle into the sunlight. A taxi lets out a patient in front of the hospital, and I hop in.
“Where are you going?” the driver asks.
I check my DMs. Courtney still hasn’t answered me. What if she never does? What if Kelly finds me before I can find answers?
Fingers tapping quickly over my phone, I grab directions to the nearest internet cafe. “Take me here.”