in the unit recently,” she said, dropping her voice low. “She thinks somebody may be tampering with patient medicine. That’s why Frank called you in to upgrade our security.”
Frank put his hands on his hips, clearly displeased. “This is all just rumor and suspicion at the moment,” he said. “The security upgrade is simply routine maintenance and nothing more.”
Cole crossed his arms, letting his instincts lead him where they wanted to go. “Even so, I’d rather go check on Deborah, just to make sure she’s okay.”
Frank let out a puff of air. “There really is no need, Mr. Strachan. Let’s not panic unnecessarily. She’ll be back soon enough, I’m sure.”
Cole turned without a word and pressed a button to exit the unit. “Okay. I’ll go find her myself.”
He stepped out into the long corridor that ran alongside the pediatric ward on the fifth floor and pressed the elevator button impatiently. When it failed to arrive immediately, he pushed open the stairwell door and bounded down two at a time. He exited on the first floor, where he remembered seeing a sign for the morgue. He heard Frank’s voice behind him. “Mr. Strachan, please wait.” Frank caught up with Cole as he slowed to find his bearings. “You can’t enter the morgue without an ID card.”
Cole stopped and eyeballed the middle-aged hospital administrator, who was looking sternly at him over the frames of his glasses. Cole cocked his head to the side. “Then it looks like you’ll have to come with me, after all.”
Frank clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Very well.” He extended his hand. “This way.”
Cole followed Frank’s polished shoes, which clipped softly on the floor as he led him yet again through a warren of corridors. As Cole walked, he tried to quell the whirl of emotions stirring deep inside. The thought of stepping inside a morgue was not something that appealed to him. The last time he had been inside a morgue was to collect the body of his precious baby son, Elliot. He had insisted on accompanying the funeral directors while they transported Elliot to their parlor. It was his final job as a doting father. The moment Frank opened the door of the room, Cole recognized the faint but familiar odor of death and he stopped himself from gagging. The memories evoked by smell were often the hardest to bear.
“You see,” Frank said, gesturing around. “There’s nobody here.”
“What about that room?” Cole said, walking to a door at the back.
“That’s the refrigeration room,” Frank replied. “It’s where we store bodies for the longer term. Nobody is in there at the moment.”
“I’d like to take a look.”
Frank sighed. “If it will put your mind at rest, then please look inside.” He walked to the door and turned the handle. “What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Deborah anyway?”
“We were high school sweethearts.”
Frank’s eyebrows shot up high. “Of course,” he exclaimed. “I should’ve recognized the name. You’re the Cole Strachan.”
Cole was taken aback. Had Deborah spoken of him? “Yes, I’m the Cole Strachan. Has she mentioned me?”
Frank gave a wry smile. “A little.” He opened the door. “But trust me, you don’t want to know.”
Cole ignored the comment and walked past Frank into a room with numerous refrigeration compartments. It was empty and quiet, except for a tapping sound coming from behind the wall of steel.
“Someone is trapped in one of these units,” he said, feeling his pulse start to race. “It must be Deborah.”
He rushed to the compartments and began to slide open each one. Body after body greeted him, pale and lifeless. He and Frank worked together until, at last, Cole saw Deborah slide into view. Her delicate features were unchanged, and her hair was still as lustrous and blond as it ever was. Her eyes were closed, and her body was shaking uncontrollably from the low temperature.
“She may be hypothermic,” Cole said, gathering her into his arms, remembering how slender and lithe her limbs were. Her skin felt like ice beneath her thin cotton scrubs.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Cole?” she slurred. “Is that really you? Am I dreaming?”
“Yes, it’s me,” he said, carrying her through the morgue and out into the corridor, searching for a doctor to assess her condition. “This isn’t a dream. I’m right here.”
* * *
Deborah sat up in her hospital bed, looking at the anxious faces around the room. Frank Carlisle stood nervously by the door. Dr. Julie Warren was deep in hushed conversation with her colleague Dr. Toby Cortas, and Diane sat close to the bed, holding Deborah’s limp hand. Finally, her eyes came to rest on a face she never thought she’d see again in her life—Cole Strachan. He was gazing at her as if the past ten years had never happened. His hair was shorter than he used to wear it, speckled with the tiniest hint of gray among the strawberry blond strands, but his face was still as freckled and youthful as she remembered. His green eyes had always been his most striking feature, and clearly they still were, blinking in his usual languid, unhurried way. He sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands firmly clasped together as though he were desperately trying to maintain his calm appearance. His clothes were those of a workman: dark T-shirt and blue jeans, tool belt and steel-toed boots. It took her a few moments to realize he was actually here. It had not been a dream or mirage or delusion. Cole was here.
And she wanted him gone.
She fixed him with a stare. “Please leave,” she said, before turning her attention to Frank. “I don’t want him here.”
Diane squeezed her hand. “He saved you from the morgue storage unit,” she said gently. “And he hasn’t left your side since.”
Deborah flicked her eyes to Cole’s and lifted her head. He was looking down at the floor. “Thank you,” she said tersely. “I guess that makes us even.” She heard the hardness in her voice and she didn’t like it. This wasn’t who she was. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m grateful you helped me.” She let her head flop back on the pillows, still fatigued from the low temperatures she had been subjected to.
Frank stepped toward the bed. “I’m so sorry this happened, Deborah. Dr. Kellerman from the morgue insists that he did not page you. We’re looking into it.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” she said. “Somebody pretended to be dead and then forced me into...” She stopped. The experience clearly had had more of an impact than she’d realized. Cole’s presence in the room made her dizziness worse. Her breathing became more labored. Dr. Warren walked to her side and placed a stethoscope on her chest.
“Calm down, Deborah,” Dr. Warren soothed. “Slow, deep breaths, okay?”
Deborah could take it no longer. She pointed to Cole and addressed the hospital administrator, who was skirting the edges of the room, hands in pockets. “What exactly is he doing here, Frank?”
“Mr. Strachan is here to help us with our security arrangements,” Frank replied. “Just like you asked.”
Deborah frowned. “So you go and hire a navy SEAL?” she asked incredulously.
