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University of Pittsburgh Medical Center

the next day

R ory woke to the soft beeping of monitors and the bleachy smell of stiff hospital sheets. Daylight filtered through the Venetian blinds, casting thin stripes across the institutional beige walls. Her head throbbed dully, but her knife-like abdominal pain had subsided to a manageable ache.

A soft knock at the door drew her attention. The resident who was managing her care stood in the doorway, gripping a wheelchair.

“You have a visitor,” Dr. Garcia said. “If you’re up for it.”

Rory’s eyes fell to the chair’s occupant. Evan Jeffries, wearing a hospital gown and wristband. His legs covered by a thin, scratchy blanket. He looked old and tired.

“Okay.”

The doctor wheeled him into the room and to the bedside. She engaged the brake on the chair and gave Rory a serious look. “I’ll give you two some privacy, but you need rest. You both do. I’ll be back in three minutes.”

She left, and a heavy silence blanketed the room.

Finally, Evan spoke. “Rory, I—there’s no excuse.” He clutched the plastic side rail on her bed so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “I found you in that cave, saw you were hurt, and panicked. I ran.”

Rory studied him. The righteous activist, the passionate historian who documented the bravery of others, had crumbled in the face of an actual crisis? It seemed impossible.

“Why? No BS, Evan. Really, why?”

He hung his head. “I convinced myself you’d be fine, that you weren’t badly hurt. And … that your disappearance would draw more attention to your work.”

She stared at him.

After a beat, he said, “I was right about that, by the way. I don’t know if you’ve been online, but your photographs have gone viral. If I’d know about your condition, I never would have left you. I swear. But all’s well that ends well, right?” He raised his eyes and gave her a hopeful look.

She broke eye contact and swallowed hard. Then she pressed the call button. “Professor Jeffries and I are done talking. He’s ready to leave.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes, keeping them closed when the door opened, Evan was wheeled away, and the door clicked softly closed behind him.

The next time she opened them, Police Chief Ron Mercer and his ex-wife stood in her open doorway. She blinked.

“I’m surprised to see you two together” she managed.

Diana laughed. “That makes three of us. Can we come in?”

Rory nodded.

Diana crossed the room and squeezed Rory’s hand. Then she placed a vase of bright spring flowers on the bedside table. “You worried us.”

“I worried me,” Rory replied with a laugh.

“The doctor said you’re going to be okay.”

She nodded and gestured toward the IV line in her left arm. “They gave me intravenous hemin to treat my AIP. I have mild concussion so they want to keep me overnight. But I’ll be fine.”

Ron, still in the doorway, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Look, I need to know if you want to press charges against Evan Jeffries. Abandoning an injured person, failure to report?—”

“No. No charges.”

The chief frowned. “He left you to die.”

“And he’ll have to live with that knowledge.” Rory turned toward the flowers and smiled at the cheerful riot of colors. “And the knowledge that I see him for what he truly is.”