“Sir, I must ask you to return to the waiting area. Someone will help you as soon as possible.”
Greg said as clearly as he could with his jaws clenched, “Dr. Davis. I’m looking for Sherri Masterson Hogan, who was in that six-car smash-up. I’m told she was airlifted here and I intend to find her.”
The doctor nodded. “I see. Are you a family member?”
“I’m her husband.”
What difference did it make, anyway? He was determined to see her, regardless of their relationship.
“Hold on. I’ll see what I can find out for you,” Dr. Davis said, striding down the hallway, the tails of his medical coat flapping around him.
Greg paced back and forth, dodging carts, beds and medical personnel until the doctor returned.
“She’s in surgery.”
“What are her injuries?”
Dr. Davis shook his head. “You’ll need to speak to the surgeon about that.”
“Where can I find him when he gets out of surgery?”
“You can wait for him upstairs, in Intensive Care. He’ll look for family members when he finishes.”
Greg swallowed. “I want to see her as soon as possible.”
“The surgeon will discuss that with you.”
Greg nodded, turned on his heel and headed toward the bank of elevators.
“Good luck,” Dr. Davis said behind him.
Greg rode the elevator to the next floor where the ICU was located. It was quiet on the ICU floor, which was a relief from the pandemonium downstairs. He pushed through double swinging doors and found the nurses’ station.
“Sir,” one of the nurses said, “you can’t come in here.”
“I’m waiting for Sherri Masterson Hogan to come out of surgery.”
She looked down at the desk and riffled through some files. She read some of the files before saying, “We have a Sherri Masterson who has been recently admitted.”
So she’d taken back her maiden name. Why wasn’t he surprised?
“Are you family?”
He’d already lied once. “Her husband.”
She nodded. “Good. We need to get more information on her.”
He took a deep breath. “Okay.”
She went down a list, asking questions. He knew her age, birthdate, even her blood type, but he had no idea where she lived these days, so he rattled off his own address.
After answering the rest of the questions, Greg wandered down the hallway to the ICU waiting room with the nurse’s promise that the doctor would be out to speak with him as soon as he was out of surgery.
Greg hated sitting around, but he had no intention of leaving the hospital until he knew more about Sherri’s injuries.
He wondered why he cared. He hadn’t seen or spoken to her in almost two years. Eighteen months, six days, to be precise.
She’d asked him not to contact her once everything had ended, and he’d determinedly followed her instructions. He’d almost convinced himself she was part of his past. He was so over her. Then what was he doing here? Why had he panicked at the thought that she could die?
For one thing, she was much too young, six years younger than his thirty-two years.
Just because she wanted no part of me didn’t mean she deserved to die.
The last six months they were together had been filled with so much tension that it had become a third party in their marriage. She’d withdrawn into herself. When he asked what was wrong, she told him that he was too secretive about his past and his background. She said she didn’t really know him at all.
Okay, so he wasn’t the most talkative person in the world…especially about his feelings. He’d never been good about opening himself up and sharing his innermost thoughts and emotions with anyone.
When they’d first married, she had asked him all kinds of questions…about his childhood, his family, why he’d chosen to be a cop. He never liked talking about his childhood or his family and admittedly he was less than forthcoming. As far as he was concerned, all of that was in the past and had no bearing on who he was today. He’d just had trouble explaining that to Sherri’s satisfaction. He’d finally stopped trying.
He shouldn’t have been all that surprised the day he got home to find every last trace of her presence in his apartment gone. She’d left the key to his place on the counter with a note telling him that she was getting a divorce and to contact her attorney—she also left the attorney’s business card—if he had any questions.
Hell yes, he’d had questions! How could she just move out like that? She’d kept asking him to talk to her about stupid things, but that was no reason just to walk out on him. He’d loved her and she’d thrown his love back in his face. Why else would she have hired an attorney before she’d even bothered to tell him she wanted a divorce?
He’d been furious with her. He’d waited three days to calm down enough to call her attorney, who had told him that since they’d acquired no property of significance during the three years of their marriage, Sherri wanted to keep what was hers and let him keep what was his.
He hadn’t argued because he knew there would be no point. She’d obviously made up her mind and his opinion didn’t matter.
He’d tried to be what she’d wanted in a husband, but he hadn’t really known what she expected a husband to be. He’d been alone for most of his twenty-seven years before they’d met. Of course there had been adjustments to sharing a place with her. However, he’d loved her and showed his love in every way he knew how, but his love hadn’t been enough. He knew, was absolutely convinced, that she’d loved him in the beginning. There was no way she could have faked her response to him. His off-duty hours had been spent in bed with her, making love to her, holding her, listening to her while she talked about her childhood and her family.
She’d had it tough and he’d told her that he would always be there for her, that he would never abandon her, or leave her to deal with life on her own.
And yet…
After a while she’d stopped talking to him as much and he figured that was because she’d told him everything about her past. She would ask him about his work, but once he was home he didn’t want to talk about his job. He just wanted to be with her.
He’d always worked long hours during an investigation, but she’d known that. He might have rushed her into marriage a little fast, but he had been afraid he would lose her if he settled for a long engagement. He’d lost her anyway.
Well, he’d come to terms with the divorce. There wasn’t much else he could do. He’d tried to console himself that cops had a higher rate of failed relationships than almost any other profession. Somehow, that hadn’t helped him get over the pain of losing her.
And now she was seriously injured. Regardless of the circumstances, he could not leave the hospital without knowing how she was.
Greg waited three more hours before a weary doctor wearing scrubs appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Masterson?”
“Um, no. Greg Hogan. Sherri uses her maiden name.” He had trouble talking around the knot in his throat. He finally managed to ask, “How is she?”
The doctor rubbed the back of his neck. “There was some internal bleeding and we had to remove her spleen. She’s