Black and Green (The Ghost Bird #11)
C. L. Stone
Surprise Visit
DR. GREEN
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Sean Green threw open the driver’s-side door to Owen’s BMW. He patted his jeans pockets and then reached into his green jacket, finding only his cell phone. “Owen! Goddamnit. I left my keys somewhere.”
“No time,” Owen said, jogging toward the car. He carried a single backpack across his shoulder. He opened the back door and dropped it on the seat, making a whirling motion with his hand above his head. “Get in. I’ll drive.”
Sean’s head rocked back until he was glaring at the sky. “No,” he said in a whine. “You drive too slowly.”
“Just get in,” he said in a short bark.
Sean grumbled and jogged around the car, landing in the passenger seat and slamming the door. They had parked near their tent at Academy camp. There were piles of supplies in neat rows on a nearby picnic table.
They didn’t have time to pack it up. Not now.
Owen wedged himself in behind the wheel, inserted a key and turned the engine over.
Sean sent a text to the others around the camp about their tent and supplies. They’d take down their tents and would keep their things safe until they could be delivered back to their proper owners.
It’d cost them a favor, but they needed to get going.
Not only was Sang’s health at risk, but possibly her freedom, perhaps even her life.
Within minutes they were on the road headed back to Summerville.
Sean kept his phone in his lap, staring at the screen, prepared to call a thousand people and yet not wanting to clog phones in the crucial time they had.
The others were taking their time getting Sang packed up to go to her house.
Cameras were being monitored. Phones tapped.
Waiting for information was always the hardest. With information, they could do something. Take action. Make a decision.
Now all he had to focus on was the time ticking away as Owen barely broke the speed limit getting back to Summerville.
Sean groaned, throaty, louder than he meant to, with the frustration bubbling inside him. He gripped the phone harder in his hand, glaring out the windshield.
“I can’t risk going any faster,” Owen said. He shot him a look. It was one of the rare moments when Owen actually looked human to Sean. His hair was askew, blown by the breeze at the camp and then the rush to get into the car and on the road. He’d replaced his nicer clothes with an older sweater and a pair of old jeans meant to be worn while breaking down camps. Sean hadn’t seen him like this in months, maybe not even a year now. Owen never wore jeans.
“Because getting pulled over and getting a speeding ticket will take more time than following the rules,” Sean said, repeating the lecture Owen had often given him. “I know, I know...”
“She’s not hurt,” Owen said. “And she knows to leave if he tries anything dangerous. He wouldn’t do to her what her stepmother tried...locking her up. We’ll get her out even if he tried.”
“The fact is, we don’t know what’s going on,” Sean said. He held on to his phone, turning the screen on every once in a while, anticipating and feeling phantom vibrations every few seconds. He’d take a shock, if any of them wanted to hit the emergency button, just to hear any news. “She doesn’t have to go in, you know?”
“I know,” Owen said darkly, his eyes narrowing on the road. The sunlight streaming through the windshield reflected off his glasses. He raked his fingers through his hair, and with a few swipes, it was perfect.
He’d always had a knack for hand-combing.
“We could get her out,” Sean said. “In a heartbeat. We could stop all this.”
“We don’t know if she’d want us to,” he said. His knuckles were turning white as he gripped the wheel. “But, please, stop tempting me.”
Sean smothered another grumble and turned his eyes to the trees they passed by along the way. He folded his arms across his chest, his windbreaker rustling. When it got too warm in the car, he stripped it off and left the T-shirt underneath on, tossing the jacket into the back in a heap.
Owen eyeballed the crumpled jacket in the rearview mirror but said nothing. He tightened his mouth, too polite to grind his teeth but on the verge of it.
Good, Sean said to himself, although he didn’t mean it. He knew he was irritated and anxious, without anything to do other than wait.
He was tempted to check the camera signals, but if Victor was already checking them, it would slow things down if he tried to do the same thing. The cameras were handy, but the server could get overloaded if too many of them tried viewing at the same time.
Sean tucked a thumb close to his mouth and started biting a nail absently.
“You should be thinking about what we’ll need to do once we can get her to the hospital,” Owen said. “Maybe you should have someone prepare some sort of test?”
“Because she fainted?” Sean asked and shook his head. “There’s nothing to prepare for. I’ll do another couple of blood tests, but I bet she didn’t eat like she promised she would.”
“She’s clearly got low blood pressure. It’s the stress.”
“I agree,” Sean said. He stared out the window, not really looking at anything, but picturing the time Sang had been carried into the nurse’s office, looking pale and tired. She’d been getting better, but this week had been quite over the top. “Even if she’d been okay with her girl team, she has a lot to be stressed out over.”
“There might be underlying causes for these fainting spells,” Owen said. “She wasn’t having seizures, was she? We’re not looking at epilepsy, are we?”
“They would have noticed a seizure,” Sean said, and he shut his eyes, wanting to focus, but too many questions popped into his brain. He opened them, looking over at Owen. “There’s no point in doctoring when the patient and the data aren’t in front of you. We’re doing guesswork.”
Owen closed his mouth and pressed his lips together. Sean couldn’t blame him. Answers were what they were continually looking for, especially when it came to Sang. Would they ever have a day they wouldn’t worry about her?
Suddenly, the phone rang in his hands and he pushed the button quickly, bringing it to his ear.
“What?” he asked quickly. “What is it?”
There was silence for a moment, and then a heavily accented voice spoke over the phone, female and mature. “Is something wrong?”
“Mother?” Sean choked out with surprise, sitting up straight as an arrow in the car. He’d been so anxious expecting a call from the guys that this threw him off. “What...how...hello.” He coughed and then continued, “Hey, I meant to call you.”
He pictured his mother as he spoke, a Japanese woman, short, thin with few wrinkles and minimal gray strands of hair at the temples, which she often dyed to keep her hair completely ebony in color.
It was her eyes that made him shiver. The darkness that demanded perfection.