Emma That is Dead (FREE!)

Chapter Thirty-Three

I add Jordan's number to my contacts and tear out of the parking lot.

Keeping my eyes on the road, landmarks pass by in a blur. Autumn-dusted trees and rolling foothills. The sprawling properties and boat marina flanking Gull Lake. Choppy gray waves clawing at the shore. I know the locations by heart, but I'm too distracted to pay them any attention.

Emma caused Jordan's accident. Forced her Jeep over the guardrail, and sent it plummeting hundreds of feet, narrowly missing the river below.

But why would she go out of her way to do something so heinous? Jordan could have been killed—and for what? Emma's already made it clear Jordan has no ties to her disappearance. That whatever information she thinks she has holds no bearing.

But then ... Emma's lied before. Telling my mom I'm paranoid again. Planting drugs in my car for Smith to find. What else is she lying about? For Jordan to summon me to the hospital like this, whatever she has to say must be big. Really big.

Anxiety slams into me as I enter the hospital, my heart thumping against my ribcage as I slide past the information desk. There's no reason for me to hide my face this time. I'm not sneaking in; I've been invited. And no auxiliary volunteer is going to keep me away.

A crowd waits at the elevators. A younger guy with nervous eyes, holding an empty car seat. An older couple with flowers and a gift bag that reads Get Well Soon. A lady playing referee between two prepubescent boys who are clearly trying to provoke one another.

With this many people in line, I'll never fit inside. I scan the area for a staircase, and push myself through the door, taking the steps two at a time up to the second floor. A fluorescent light flickers overhead as I head towards the pediatric wing. It's a different department than where Jordan was before; still an area for the sick and injured, but not as serious as the patients in intensive care.

The waiting room here is empty, and the double doors leading into the department locked. I peer through a window and wave, trying to catch the attention of a staff member at the nurse's station, and it doesn't take long for a woman in bright pink scrubs to notice me. Whatever she does behind the desk releases the lock and the doors let out a metallic click. I step through and tentatively approach the counter.

"May I help you?" she asks.

A chill runs through me as a gust of cool air funnels down the hall. "My friend Jordan Pacey is a patient here. She invited me to visit now that she's awake."

"You must be Arbor. Her mom said you'd be coming." When she smiles, her wide brown eyes crinkle at the corners. "My name's Shandra, I'm Jordan's nurse today. She's in room 219, third door from the end," she says, gesturing to her left.

I thank her and follow her instructions, pausing in front of a wooden door with the numbers 219 plated in the center. It's closed.

Shit. What am I supposed to do now?