Her recorded voice floated into his ear, soft and familiar.
Hi, you’ve reached Emily. Leave a message and I’ll call you back when I can.
He hung up before the beep.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
His stomach twisted.
A woman at the nurses’ station watched him with recognition in her eyes. She was older than the first nurse, with silver threading through her dark hair and a badge that read Charge Nurse Lauren.
Mark remembered her vaguely.
She had been in the room when Emily was bleeding.
She had called him.
His mouth went dry.
“You,” he said.
Lauren looked at him without surprise.
“Mr. Carter.”
“Where is my wife?”
Lauren held his gaze. “She asked that no personal information be released to you beyond what hospital policy requires.”
Mark blinked. “What?”
“She amended her contact permissions before discharge.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It isn’t.”
“She was barely conscious.”
