“Hannah…” Ethan croaked. His voice was raspy, ruined.
I stood up. I don’t remember standing, but suddenly I was on my feet, towering over the scene.
“Who is she?” My voice didn’t sound like mine. It was low, dangerous, void of emotion.
The doctor stepped in, sensing the volatility. “They were brought in together. An assault. They arrived in the same ambulance.”
I looked at the woman. I looked at the empty space where her hand had just been holding his.
“Explain,” I said. “Now.”
The Story That Almost Made Sense
The woman spoke first. Her voice was small, trembling. “My name is Samantha. I work with Ethan.”
“You work with him,” I repeated. “In Boston?”
“No,” Ethan interjected, wincing as he tried to sit up. “Here. The satellite office.”
“You’re supposed to be in Boston,” I said to him.
