Brett Battles - Every Precious Thing

“They’ll pay if you say it’s necessary,” Barney argued.

“But I can’t say it’s necessary. If I did, I’d have to apply that standard to all our patients. And you know what will happen then? Insurance companies will stop approving treatments here, and the medical center will have to shut down. There’s a bigger picture here than you’re considering.”

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I was,” the doctor said in a conciliatory tone. He turned his attention to Pep. “Mr. Pepper, I wish we could keep you longer, but the thing you need now more than anything else is rest. You can do that just as well in your own bed as here.”

“It’s okay, Doctor. I’m fine with it.”

Groves gave him a thankful smile. “They’re finishing up your paperwork. You should be good to go in fifteen minutes or so.”

“Thanks.”

The doctor glanced at Harp and Barney. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry about the situation, and I do agree with you, but there’s nothing I can do. I have other patients I need to see, so if you’ll excuse me…”

As soon as he was gone, Barney said to Pep, “When I was starting out as a doctor, you would have been in the hospital for a week, minimum .”

“I would have also had to watch debut episodes of I Love Lucy ,” Pep said.

“What’s wrong with I Love Lucy ?” Harp asked.

A nurse entered the room, carrying a handful of documents for Pep to sign. While Barney helped him understand what was what, Harp took a walk down to the cafeteria to grab some coffee. As he was pouring his cup, the guy in the suit who’d been behind him and Barney at the reception desk walked up.

“How is it?” the man asked, nodding at the coffee maker.

“Passable,” Harp told him.

“I guess passable will do.”

His cup full, Harp moved to the side to add some cream and sugar.

“Sorry again about earlier,” the man said as he poured his own cup.

“Our fault. We weren’t paying attention.”

The man smiled, and looked around. “Hate these places, know what I mean?”

“Hospitals?”

“Yeah. Give me the creeps.”

“I guess they could. Don’t bother me, though.”

“I take it you’re not a patient,” the man said.

“Do I look like a patient?”

The man gave Harp a quick once-over. “Nah. Visiting someone?”

“A friend’s being released in a few minutes.”

“Good for him. Oh, sorry. Him or her?”

“Him.”

“Well, good for him.” The man took a sip of his coffee, testing it. “I’m Leon. Leon Clausen.”

He held out his hand and Harp took it.

“Neal Harper.”

For a split second it seemed as if Harp’s name registered with the man, but the look was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You live in Braden?” Clausen asked.

“No,” Harp said, shaking his head. “Over on the coast.”

“The coast?” There was surprise in the man’s voice.

“Cambria. You ever heard of it?”

“No. Never.”

“How about Hearst Castle?”

“That, I’ve heard of.”

“About ten miles south of there.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s beautiful,” Harp said.

“I’ll have to check it out.”

“You should.” Harp smiled. “I should get back to my friends.”

“Sure, sure. You have a good day, huh?”

“You, too.”

Logan drew the short straw and ended up being the one who had to stretch out on the floor by the window. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep much at all, but the next thing he knew, sunlight was spilling through the window and he could hear the TV.

He sat up with a start.

Dev was sitting on the end of the bed closest to him, watching one of the morning news shows. Logan stretched, and looked over at the other bed. It was empty.

“Where is she?” he asked.

Without looking, Dev said, “Not here.”

Logan jumped to his feet. “Was she gone when you got up?”

“Yep.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Thirty minutes.”

“And you didn’t think to wake me?”

Dev looked over at him. “Wouldn’t have done any good, and I thought you could use a little more sleep.”

“What do you mean, ‘wouldn’t have done any good’? We need to look for her. We need to find her.”

He picked his pants off the floor, pulled them on, then snatched his shirt off the chair and headed for the bathroom.

“She left a note,” Dev said.

Logan stopped. “Where?”

Dev nodded at the empty bed. There was a piece of paper sitting on the cover half hidden by one of the pillows. Logan walked over and grabbed it.

I-40 West. Williams exit. Go north on State Route 64 for 30 miles. Not long after that you’ll see a faded white X painted on the edge of the asphalt. Pull to the side and wait. If I’m not there by 10:30 a.m., I’m not coming.

“Think she left as soon as we fell asleep,” Dev said.

Logan looked at her bed and could see his friend was right. Though he could tell she had lain there, it was otherwise undisturbed. If she had slept, then she was one of those people who never moved.

He suddenly looked toward the door. “My truck.”

Before he could take more than a single step, Dev held up a hand. “It’s still there. First thing I checked.”

Logan looked at the note again.

“I assume we’re going,” Dev said.

“Absolutely.”

Their first stop was at a mini-mart near the freeway, where they picked up a pay-by-the-minute phone similar to the one that had been in Diana’s bag.

“You drive,” Logan said to Dev as they left the store.

As soon as they were on the I-40, he punched in a Washington D.C. number on the cell.

“Forbus International. How may I direct your call?”

“Ruth Bobick, please.”

“One moment.”

He hadn’t thought he would need the help of his old friend. Ruth was a busy woman, even more so these days after her recent promotion at Forbus International, the defense contractor Logan had also worked for at one time. Everything he’d needed up to this point, Callie had been able to handle. But what he wanted now was something only Ruth could do.

When Logan had worked with his late brother-in-law and best friend Carl Stone as trainers for Forbus’s private security forces, Ruth had been their in-office contact. She had always been a friend, and though the company had placed the blame for Carl’s death on Logan, she had never believed it. After that incident, their careers went in decidedly different directions. Ruth climbed the corporate ladder at Forbus, while Logan returned to his hometown to work in his father’s garage. In her position as a vice president of a highly regarded defense contractor, she had access to information sources not available to most people. This had come in handy when Logan was trying to save Elyse Myat a few months earlier, and now could prove to be just as important to his search for Sara.

The line rang twice.

“Ruth Bobick’s office. How may I help you?” Ruth’s assistant asked. He sounded young and efficient, just the kind of person Ruth liked to have around.

“Tommy Shaw calling for Ruth,” Logan said.

Though it wasn’t public knowledge, Forbus was in the habit of recording company calls when they felt it necessary. There was no doubt in Logan’s mind that if they knew he was on the line, his call would fall into the record category. He was not in good standing with the company brass, with the exception of Ruth, and he wouldn’t be doing her any favors if people found out he was asking her for help. So he used a name he knew would catch her attention. Ruth had once admitted to a teenage obsession with the ’70s-era band Styx, and more specifically, the band’s guitar player, Tommy Shaw.