Page 15 of Rogue Survivor
I hang up before Leah can respond. Before I lose my shit. Burying my face in Veronica’s pillow long enough to let out a single, choking sob, I let her scent calm me. She has to be okay. I won’t survive if she’s not.
For the thousandth time tonight,I call Veronica’s cell. No answer.
“Veronica? It’s Mom. Again. Please, baby. Call me—”
“Mailbox full.”
I checked her voicemail four hours ago. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few old messages from Mitzi, one from me telling her how proud I was of her for getting in to UT Austin, and one from Tracie, the woman who runs the sober living home.
“Veronica, Jamie hasn’t been here for three days and she’s not answering her phone. I had to reassign her room. If you hear from her, please let her know I’m sorry.”
I tried calling Tracie, but not until well after 11:00 p.m., so she probably won’t get back to me until the morning. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Besides delete some of the more than twenty messages I’ve left Veronica tonight. The police were exactly as much help as I predicted, and Leah’s checking the local hospitals every few hours.
I haven’t left Veronica’s room since I got home from the precinct. I can’t. If I thought it would do any good, I’d drive up and down every single street in Austin, but then I could miss her coming home.
If she comes home.
Pulling her purple fuzzy blanket around me, I lie on her bed, my phone still clutched in my hand. The ringer is set as loud as it can go, and it’s fully charged. More than once tonight I’ve wondered if it’s working, but Connor’s called three times, so it must be. I let each one go to voicemail, though. What if Veronica called at the same time? The risk was too great.
“Please come back,” I whisper when I close my eyes. “Wherever you are…just come home.”
“Is this Isabel Lopez?”the tired, female voice asks. Seconds ago, the ringing phone woke me from a nightmare where ten years had passed with no sign of Veronica or Mitzi, and it took me several deep breaths to stop crying enough to see the caller ID. Austin Mercy Hospital.
“Y-yes. Please tell me my baby girl is okay. Veronica Lopez?” Sitting up, I sway against the headboard.
“Yes, ma’am. We admitted an unidentified female a little after 10:00 p.m. tonight. She was unconscious and needed surgery for a ruptured spleen and minor internal bleeding. She woke up a few minutes ago and was able to give us her name and your number. ”
“Oh, God. Is she going to be all right?” I push to my feet, and a wave of dizziness threatens to send me back down to the bed. Shit. What time is it, anyway? A quick glance at my watch has me gaping. Almost 5:00 a.m.
“I’m only the charge nurse, ma’am. I can tell you that she's out of the woods for now and stable, but you really need to come in and discuss her condition with her doctor. She'll need your support and we need your permission for any further treatment she receives.”
“Tell her…can you tell her I’m on my way? If she wakes up, I mean.” Tears race down my cheeks, and I don’t even try to stop them. My baby girl’s alive. Oh, shit. What about Mitzi?
“I can—”
“Was there another girl brought in with her?” I ask. “Same age. Blond, blue eyes, five-foot-six?”
“We don’t have any other unidentified females at the moment, ma’am. I’m sorry. I have to go.” The woman hangs up, and I realize I never got her name. Does it matter? Veronica’s alive. I just hope alive also means…okay.
Chapter Six
Isabel
My eyes burn,and the hard plastic chair in Veronica’s hospital room isn’t doing my back any favors. But I don’t care. I’d sit on a bed of nails holding fifty pound weights if it would make Veronica better.
Concussion. Broken arm. Dislocated knee. Ruptured spleen.
She’s only woken up for a few minutes at a time. Long enough to tell me she was sorry. To ask about Mitzi—and cry when I couldn’t give her an answer. I should try to sleep. But I’m terrified I won’t hear her quiet whispers. She had a terrible reaction to the painkiller they gave her when she first woke up, and the doctor warned me she’ll likely sleep most of the day.
My bladder won’t be ignored much longer, and I stifle my hiss when I push to my feet. I’m too old to stay up all night—let alone for almost thirty-six hours straight. Bracing my hands on either side of Veronica’s shoulders, I press a kiss to her cheek. “Be right back, baby girl. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
She’d laugh—if she could hear me. Then say something like,“I don’t know, Mom. I hear these beds can move pretty fast on freshly waxed floors.”
In the attached bathroom, I take care of my needs, then splash some cold water on my face. A quick glance in the mirror confirms I look like death warmed over, but I don’t care. Veronica’s alive. She’ll heal.
Guilt threatens to choke me, stealing the few blessed moments of relief I’d found watching my daughter sleep. Mitzi is still out there somewhere. Is she hurt? Cold? Alone? And why didn’t they go to Brian’s after the library? I tried to ask Veronica what happened, but she teared up and her heart rate started to spike, so I backed off.
Dropping to my knees, I press my hands to my mouth, stifling my sobs. If I weren’t so worried about Veronica, so keyed in to her every breath, so obsessed with every number on the machines monitoring her vitals, I’d call Leah. But what would I say?
