Not that I was expecting hospital security to gun us down if they got hold of us, but when we turned what should have been almost the final corner to our escape route, I found it was a close run thing.
The two security guards we’d slipped past earlier had cornered Sean and my father by a bank of elevators. They looked up sharply when I appeared.
“What the hell is going on?” I demanded, East Coast again.
There was a pause, then one of the guards said, “Nothing that need concern you, ma’am.”
My brain clicked over. Clearly, they’d been looking for my father alone. Sean, I surmised, had been caught up in this purely by association. Any threat I might present was quickly weighed and dismissed.
“Of course it does,” I said, pushing a note of weary belligerence into my voice. I advanced, careful in my positioning, forcing the guard who’d spoken to turn away from Sean slightly to keep me in full view, just in case we couldn’t talk our way out of this. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sean shift his balance. Almost imperceptible, but enough.
I stabbed a finger towards my father. “This man’s a doctor—a damned good one. I need his expertise for a consult. Right now.”
“We got orders to hold him,” the guard said, but I saw the crease in his brow as the indecision and the worry crept in. He glanced at his partner for support, received only a halfhearted, puzzled shrug in return.
I sighed and deliberately lowered my voice. “Look, whatever the problem is, can’t it wait? I got a kid about to go into the OR whose legs are in a million pieces. You want to explain to his mother why he’s gonna spend the rest of his life in a goddamn wheelchair?”
I waved an arm vaguely behind me and felt rather than saw my mother step in closer. The guard who’d been doing all the talking let his eyes flick over her. Then he frowned again, his expression hardening.
My eyes met Sean’s. He’s not going to buy it.
I know. Be ready.
The guard opened his mouth, got as far as, “Look, Doc, I got my—”
“Oh, Doctor!” my mother cried suddenly. “Is this the surgeon? Is this the one who can save my poor Darcy’s legs?”
Darcy? Where the hell did that come from?
I turned. My mother had come to a faltering stop, a picture of anxiety, twisting her hands together in front of her breast like a tragic Shakespearean actress. All she needed was a handkerchief to dab at her eyes, but I thought that might have been overplaying the role a little, even for her.
“Ah, Mrs. Bennet,” I said, as the Pride and Prejudice reference finally sank in. Besides, wasn’t Mrs. Bennet supposed to be a scatterbrain? “There may be some kind of problem, I’m afraid. These gentlemen,” I said ominously, indicating the security guards as I moved to comfort her, “want to detain Mr. Foxcroft and—”
“Oh, but you can’t!” my mother cried, her voice rising, jagged. Her eyes swiveled wildly from one to the other. They couldn’t hold her gaze, shuffling awkwardly. They fetched and held and ejected people. They didn’t get into conversation with them. Not for minimum wage across a twelve-hour shift. And clearly not enough to be thrown by my mother’s obvious English accent, either.
“Look, lady—” the guard tried again.
“Tell them, Dr. Wickham!” my mother said, wheeling to face Sean, her face imploring. My God, were those actual tears? “Tell them he’s my only hope!”
And with that she gave a kind of a wail and collapsed into the arms of the guard who’d been doing the talking.
“Aw, lady, for Chrissake …” He tried to paw her away, like she was contagious, keeping his head back and his chin tucked in. Finally, he managed to get a grip on my mother’s upper arms and hoisted her away. “Go on, get him out of here,” he said to me in desperation. “But if anyone asks, you ain’t seen us and we ain’t seen you! Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed gravely. “Don’t worry, you won’t see us.”
The four of us disappeared along the corridor as fast as we could manage, round a corner and out through the first exit we came to that didn’t claim to be alarmed.
“My God, Elizabeth,” my father muttered, and his voice might have been shaky and breathless purely because we were all but running across the car park towards the Navigator, but that wouldn’t account for the note of wonder I heard there, too. “My God …”
Sean hit the remote and the locks popped. We piled in and he had the engine cranked and the vehicle already rolling before the last door was slammed shut behind us.
My mother fastened her seat belt and smoothed her skirt, frowning a little at a crease in the material. Then she looked up and smiled and, just for a moment, there was a distinct twinkle in her eye—a frisson of pleasure, excitement, even pure thrill.
“That was nicely played—well done,” Sean said, but his praise was guarded. “You took quite a risk, though. If they’d tagged even one genuine member of staff, we’d all have been sunk.”
I glanced at him, surprised by the downbeat tone. “Come on, Sean,” I said. “It was inspired and, anyway, it worked! Isn’t that what counts?” I smiled at him, but he didn’t return it. “Anyway, what alternatives did we have?”
He didn’t answer right away, concentrating on his driving. He was making a series of random turns, fast enough to put distance between us and the hospital, unobtrusive enough not to get us pulled over.
I frowned. Sean was cautious, yes, but he’d never been mean when it came to giving due credit, and he admired inventiveness. At that moment he glanced sideways and the brooding darkness of his gaze almost made me flinch.
What the hell …
My father leaned forwards in his seat. “What’s the matter, Sean?” he said in a clipped, almost taunting tone. “Did Elizabeth’s actions disappoint you in some way?”
“Disappoint me?” Sean echoed, his expression blanking as his voice grew lethally soft. “Of course not. Just how would they do that?”
I fired my father a warning look but his eyes were locked onto the narrow slot of the rearview mirror, which was all he could see of Sean’s set face, and he didn’t catch the gesture. Or, if he did, he chose to ignore it.
“You were about to start a fight,” my father said on a note of disdain. “It seems to be your first instinctive response to any difficult situation. Then Charlotte and Elizabeth managed to talk our way out—rather successfully, I thought. Does that fact wound your ego in some way?”
I was torn between pleasure at the unexpected praise, and anger at his attack on Sean.
“It never hurts to plan for the worst,” was all Sean said. “And I think you’ll find that Charlie was just as prepared to take direct action.”
“Hm,” my father said. He let his eyes slide over me, and there was something vaguely dissatisfied in that brief appraisal. “How much of that is due to your influence, I wonder.”
“Some,” Sean said. “But have you considered how much of it is down to you?”
“Oh, cut it out—both of you,” I snapped. “Stop talking about me like I’m not damn well here. Or at least have the decency to wait until I really am not here before you dissect my character.”
“I think you’ll find what we’re doing is vivisection,” Sean said, showing his teeth in a tight little smile totally devoid of humor. “For it to be dissection, I believe you’d have to be dead.”