Vengeance

85 WASHINGTON, D.C.

Jake Harrison’s car screeched to a halt, slightly askew in a visitor’s parking spot at George Washington University Hospital. The engine had barely sputtered to a stop before the car door was opened and Harrison was hurrying up the sidewalk toward the hospital entrance.

A half hour earlier, Harrison had finally received the call he’d been waiting for — Christine’s doctors had determined that she had sufficiently recovered, and they had weaned her from her medically induced coma. She’d been moved from intensive care to a normal hospital room, and was now lucid and accepting visitors.

Harrison flashed his agency ID at the woman at the information desk near the entrance, then proceeded to the fourth-floor ward, where he stopped at the nurse’s desk, asking which room Christine O’Connor was in.

“She’s in room 4106,” she replied, “but she’s not accepting additional visitors.”

“Additional visitors? Who’s with her now?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss this with you. But if you’d like to have a seat in the waiting area, perhaps you can talk to Christine’s visitor when she departs. If you’d like, however, I can let Christine know you’re here.”

“Please do.”

After the nurse made the call, Harrison grudgingly retreated to the visitor’s lounge, selecting a chair offering a view of the hallway leading to Christine’s room. Twenty minutes later, a woman exited the room. He recognized her immediately — she was Joan McDonnell, Christine’s best friend since the two had met on Penn State’s gymnastics team as freshmen. Both had majored in political science and ended up with careers in Washington, D.C.

Joan headed directly to the visitor’s lounge as Harrison rose to greet her. She said nothing as she approached, simply stopping in front of him before embracing him in a long, tight hug. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes.

“How is she doing?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected,” she answered, wiping the moisture from her eyes with her hand. “She’s still weak and talking is very difficult for her. Her face is heavily bandaged, and I can barely understand what she’s saying. It’s going to take a while for everything to heal.”

“Why isn’t she allowing additional visitors? The nurse said you were the only one she’s authorized. Does she know I’m here?”

“She does.”

“And she doesn’t want to see me?”

“Not right now.”

Harrison’s heart sank in disappointment, unsure whether Christine didn’t want to see him because she blamed and hated him for what happened, or because she simply wasn’t ready to deal with people’s reactions to her injuries.

“You just need to give her time,” Joan said. “What happened to her that night was incredibly traumatic, both physically and psychologically, and it will take a while for her to process everything.”

“You’re right,” Harrison said glumly. “I’ll give her however much time she needs.”