In Her Eyes by Sarah Alderson (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📕

and his father is in prison – but I can’t risk Hannah getting hurt, or Robert.

‘But how are you going to find that kind of money?’ Laurie asks.

I chew on my lip. ‘They said Gene said the money was stolen from him. But who stole it?’ My mind is racing. ‘If we can find out who stole it, maybe we can steal it back.’

‘What?’ Laurie gasps. ‘Are you crazy?’

I pull out my phone. ‘I need to find Gene.’

I hit dial but the call goes straight to voicemail and his mailbox is full. I swear loudly and hang up. For months and months Gene’s been impossible to lever out of the house and now, when I need him, I can’t find him anywhere. Damn him. This is all his fault. ‘He’s run,’ I say, furious. ‘I know it. He’s run away and left me to deal with it all. I’m going to kill him if I find him.’

I’m aware of Laurie eyeing me nervously and realize my hands are fisted and my voice is a growl. She thinks I mean it and I think I do too. I force my hands to unfurl.

‘I wonder who they buy their drugs from,’ I say.

‘I do not want to know,’ Laurie mumbles.

‘What if it was them who broke in though? Maybe they thought they could scare Gene or threaten him, or maybe they wanted to rob us in lieu of payment.’

‘It’s possible,’ she says.

‘More than possible,’ I shoot back. ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense.’

My phone suddenly jerks to life in my hand and I jab at the button, hoping it’s Gene. It isn’t. It’s Hannah. She’s at the hospital. There can’t be a good reason she’s calling so late. I put the phone to my ear with a shaking hand.

‘Hannah?’

‘Mom?’ she says, her voice strangled.

Oh God. Something is wrong – I can tell at once.

‘You need to come,’ she sobs.

Chapter 32

DAY 8

Dr Warier meets us at the door to the ICU. He gives a very brief smile and then ushers us into the pastel-hued relatives’ room, where two other doctors and a woman in a sharp blue pantsuit await us, grim-faced as undertakers.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask, the bones dissolving in my legs as I drop down onto the sofa opposite them. ‘Where’s Hannah? She said there was some kind of emergency but said she couldn’t tell me over the phone. What is it? Is June . . .?’

Laurie puts her arm around my shoulders. The first doctor, who I know is in charge of pediatrics, stands up and clears his throat, which is never a good sound, I’ve discovered, when it comes from a doctor. ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news,’ he says.

The ceiling starts pressing down on top of me and with it comes a need to run from the room – but I can’t. I’m paralyzed.

‘June went into cardiac arrest last night. We performed CPR and we managed to restart her heart.’

My own heart skips several beats. ‘She’s alive?’ I stammer as relief surges inside me.

The doctor nods.

I spring up from the sofa and make instantly for the door. I need to see her. I need to be with her. But someone steps in front of me. It’s the woman in the pantsuit. She won’t let me pass and, frustrated, I glare at her.

‘Someone interfered with her oxygen line.’

‘What?’ I look between her and the doctor.

The woman gestures for me to sit back down and I do, dropping like a stone. Laurie sits too and takes my hand. ‘What are you saying?’ I ask again.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Someone made a deliberate attempt on June’s life.’

‘How?’ I ask, staring at them. ‘Who?’

‘Someone bypassed security with a stolen pass and came in via the stairwell. He was wearing a white coat and surgical scrubs. He hid out in the supply closet and then he lit a fire in there. The cop on duty left his post for a few minutes to help put it out.’

The woman darts a look at the doctors. The first doctor, the surgeon who operated on June, takes over the conversation. ‘We’re sorry,’ he says to me. ‘But June’s score on the Glasgow Coma Scale has slipped. As you know she was an eight. Now she’s scoring a five.’ And there it comes, the moment that tips me over into the darkness.

‘Now, what that means is—’

‘I know what it means,’ I cut in. I’ve Googled it. It means a severe brain injury. Anything below a three is brain dead. She’s deteriorated.

I look around at the other doctor to see if he’s going to contradict him, because someone has to. He can’t be telling me the truth. But everyone is silent, grave-faced, deliberately avoiding my eye.

‘The likelihood of June recovering is now less than one per cent.’

‘No, no, no,’ I mumble, shaking my head harder and harder until it feels I might dislocate something. Where’s Robert? I need Robert. I can’t do this alone.

‘What does that mean?’ I hear Laurie asking. ‘You’re not giving up on her!’

There’s a pause and then Dr Warier starts talking, his voice soft and calming. ‘We don’t feel there is any point in keeping June on life support. Even if she were to regain consciousness, there’s no telling what damage might have been done.’

I look up, enraged, spitting fire. ‘No!’ What are they talking about? I’m on my feet, yelling now. ‘Someone did this to her . . . someone tried to kill her. This . . . no . . .! You are not switching off the life support. You’re not letting her die. I’m not going to let you. You can’t.’ I move to stand in front of the doorway. I won’t let them near her. I won’t allow them to do this.

Dr Warier steps forwards and takes both my hands in his. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly, tears filling his eyes. ‘We’ve done all the tests we can do. The kindest thing to do for June right now would be to let her go, let her die with dignity.