Ch. 27 Borrowed Time
I slam the car door shut and gaze at the hospital sign.
Mercy Memorial.
I stop at the entrance, hands fisted. I drove all day to get here. The air in Jericho is really different—drier. Like it's sucking something vital out of everyone and everything.
I've been hunting for Madison for a while now. The very fact that she was so difficult to track down—that tells me not everything is as it seems.
It feels like a bomb waiting to explode—taking everything I thought was right with it.
I need a lead, but so far we've come up short. I've been surveilling Madison for a few days now, and her life is completely ordinary—too ordinary.
No friends, no boyfriends, no family nearby—zero social life.
She lives like a ghost.
I walk towards the Emergency entrance, push open the door and smile at the nurse sitting at the station.
She looks up and smiles. "How may I help you?"
I return her smile, though I don't feel it. "I need to see Dr. Madison Kent."
—------------------
I pace my office, phone in hand. I curse myself for letting my meeting run so late.
My mind drifts to Celeste. She—something was wrong.
Worry niggles at my centre and my throat tightens.
I already checked her desk, and she'd left for the day.
I bite the bullet and call her. I need to know that she's alright.
The phone rings and rings but she doesn't answer.
A shiver runs down my spine. I'm already gathering my things when my phone rings.
It's her. I answer immediately.
When her voice finally comes through, it's so faint, I can barely make out the word.
Help.
She needs my help. I ask her where she is. My hands tremble as I bang on the elevator button.
Her next word is even fainter.
Home.
Heart in my throat, I rush towards my car.
I'm already speeding towards her building, address pulled from her employee form and set as location by the time I'm behind the wheel.
My whole body is cold.
I break every speed limit as I rush towards her. I'm at her building in fifteen minutes flat, and I'm still counting seconds.
I run up the stairs, taking three at a time, already dialing 911. I just know something is wrong. She lives on the top floor. I finally round the corner and find her there—collapsed on the floor.
My heart stops.
The 911 operator's voice becomes urgent, and I mechanically give her the details. She promises to send assistance immediately.
I gently shift her to the side. Blood runs down her temple and pools on the floor, seeping into the concrete. She looks pale, her fingers are ice-cold. I rub them to warm her as much as possible.
I lower myself to the floor. With trembling fingers, I check her pulse at the throat. It's thready, but clear.
A short exhale escapes me as I collapse against the metal railing. It's sharp against my back and digs into my shoulders. I pull my tie off and hold it against her head, trying to stem the bleeding.
I don't know how long I sit that way, but it feels too long. Celeste feels colder in my arms.
Paramedics arrive and gently pry her from my arms. I won't let her go.
"Come on, big guy! If you love her, let us help her!"
Reluctantly, I release her into their care and get back up.
"I'm coming with you." They gesture me in and I hold Celeste's hand while the ambulance speeds towards the nearest hospital.
—----------------------
The hospital waiting area has cold metal chairs that hurt my back after such a long driving spell.
I'm debating whether to continue sitting at all when a blonde woman with hazel eyes finds me about fifteen minutes after I requested to meet Madison.
"Christopher Lowell, is that you?"
I stand up to greet her and paste a smile on my face.
"Indeed it is. Gosh, you haven't aged a day since high school!"
"That's hogwash and you know it!" She chuckles as we stand there a little awkwardly, now that the small talk is done.
I decide to grab the bull by the horns.
"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"
Her eyes widen slightly, and she nods. "Sure. Let's catch up in my office."
I close the door behind me and wait for her to settle down in her chair. The office is fairly spartan, except for a photograph of herself and her dad from our graduation.
"How have you been? I didn't think I would ever cross paths with you again—especially after what happened in high school. Yet here we are... And you're actively seeking me out."
Her eyes are sharp, though the shadows under them clearly indicate long hours and late nights.
Was she always like this? Hard and sharp?
I take a deep breath.
"Madison, before we begin, I am obligated to inform you that I am a prosecutor with the DA's office, and that anything you say here will amount to a confession.
"Furthermore, I am going to record our conversation. You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of Law."
"Did you just read me the Miranda rights? Am I under arrest?"
"Not yet." I pause before pulling out my phone and starting the recording.
"Let the record reflect that Dr. Madison Kent has been informed of my identity, the recording of this session and the Miranda rights. Dr. Kent, please reply if you've been informed accordingly."
"I have." Madison watches me impassively—gaze cold.
"Dr. Kent, why did you frame Marcus Holden and Celeste Shaw in the high school cheating case?"
I try to keep my voice as indifferent as possible, even though I'm burning inside with fury.
She studies my face for a long time. "Who says I did anything like that? You're mistaken."
I decide to bluff and see. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that I have evidence."
She snorts. "Yeah, right. You don't have anything solid. If you did, you wouldn't be here."
Damn it.
She continues to stare at me—cold and self assured.
I study her silently. I have one more bluff up my sleeve.
"Because I think, despite everything, you still care about him." I gesture towards the photo with her dad, and she stiffens.
"I think you wouldn't want his name dragged through the mud in the court of public opinion. I can already see the headlines—Dr. William Kent's only daughter suspected of cheating her way through high school and medical college.
"Every record, every effort, every success, both yours and his—pulled up for scrutiny, for verity.
"It'll destroy him—he already has a weak heart, doesn't he?"
She goes pale. Her hands turn to fists, and her smirk transforms into an ugly grimace.
"You wouldn't. You're not that cruel."
I stare into her eyes, and dead pan, "You destroyed my sister and devastated my best friend."
I lean towards her on the table and the silence stretches between us.
"Is that a chance you're willing to take?"
She studies my face, and I let her. I let my fury leak into my eyes, while keeping my jaw clenched shut.
Her eyes widen and she leans back. She looks around for an escape.
I grab the photograph on her desk, a portrait of Dr. W. Kent and click my tongue.
"Such a poor man."
Her eyes go a little wild. "Give me that!" She snatches the photograph from me and places it tenderly on the desk.
"Let the record reflect coercion tactics and threats employed by the prosecutor." Her voice is sharp.
"I did nothing. I admit nothing. You're just as pathetic today as you were then."
Her lips twist—a mixture of disdain, challenge and contempt .
"Just like your sister."
I clench my jaw in an effort to maintain my composure.
"As for my dad, you'll do nothing. You have nothing." She gets up.
"This conversation is over. You'll be hearing from your supervisor."
She gives me a twisted smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
"You are well within your rights to file a complaint. You can lodge one here." I give her a card with the relevant contact details.
She plucks it out of my hands and studies it curiously.
"I apologise for the inconvenience." I incline my head.
She just raises her eyebrows.
"Now, now—a simple complaint? Where's the fun in that?!"
—---------------------------
The emergency room smells like shit, blood, vomit and antiseptic. Raised voices call for doctors and nurses. I can hear a child screaming and crying in the background.
Nurses and doctors rush from one bed to the next, the urgent nature of their movements making my pulse run wild.
All of this I track while waiting for news on Celeste.
Doctors surround Celeste, doing God knows what.
I slump in an empty chair, and for the first time in my life, I fold my hands in prayer.
If there's anyone listening out there—please let Celeste be okay.
Kyle is already on the way to the hospital. Ella and Legend are coming, but Keith and Kenneth will visit tomorrow after handling things at Ingram Tech.
I'm truly grateful. I don't think my brain will function until I know Celeste will make a full recovery.
The curtains around Celeste's bed finally part and the doctor emerges. I rush to him.
"How is she?"
"Breathe. She's stable.
"She took a nasty fall. Knocked her head. Look, right now, she has a laceration on her head that required stitches, she's extremely dehydrated and quite possibly sleep deprived. Her body has been pushed to its limits.
"We've stitched up her wound and set up an IV. We're going to shift her to a room for monitoring while we wait on her bloodwork.
"She might have a concussion, but we'll only know when she wakes up.
"Please stay calm, stay vigilant. The doctor on call will give you more details. She's resting right now. We'll know more after her bloodwork."
Dr. Jain rushes towards another emergency case, leaving me standing there in the middle of chaos, tears in my eyes.
"Marcus, Marcus!" Kyle rushes over. He takes one look at me and pulls me to the side, and into a quieter corner.
"What did the doctor say?"
"She's stable. Resting."
Adrenaline crashes and my knees give out. Everything blurs.
Kyle grabs me and leads me to an empty chair.
They move Celeste to an open room, and we go with her. Kyle settles hospital formalities while I hold Celeste's hand.
"I'm so sorry, Celeste." I keep repeating those words over and over again—like a prayer that might make her recover.
At some point Legend and Ella arrive, offer to relieve me, but I refuse.
I could've lost her. The thought stops my heart cold for a second—before it starts beating faster than ever, like it wants to run away from even the thought of such a possibility.
I struggle to form a cohesive thought as my energy drains from me.
It's much later in the night that I recall one more person deserves to know.
I reluctantly let go of Celeste's hand for a minute to type out a quick text to Christopher.