I smoothed my hair back and washed my hands, letting the cold water slide over the insides of my wrists as I took long, slow breaths. Finally I collected my lab coat off the floor and pulled it back on, taking a deep breath.

I can help you. I belong here. I will save you. I don’t sell drugs illegally.

Brittany was waiting when I opened the door, her overplucked eyebrows arched high in concern. “Are you okay, Dr. Sweeney? You looked like you were going to be sick.”

“Oh.” I pressed a hand to my cheek and forced a smile. “I’m a little overtired, I think. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. You have a lot going on. Here.” She handed me the file I’d dropped in my hurry. “It’s for your next patient.”

“Thank you.”

I took the file and watched her disappear down the hall. After a minute I followed, peering cautiously around the corner at the waiting room. A tacky plastic Christmas wreath hung on the door. A small, limp tree with too many baubles stood next to the magazine table. A handful of kids on iPads. Frazzled moms soothing fussy babies.

But the girl was no longer sitting where I’d seen her.

I scanned the room again. There she was—in the corner next to the door, whispering frantically to a dark-haired, acne-ridden teenage boy. The patches of lighter skin around her eyes and mouth were stark against her shiny black hair. Her hands were blotchy with pigment, her fingers long, her nails ragged, as she gestured toward the reception desk.

I saw her mouth moving: That’s her!

She saw me then. Her almond-shaped eyes—an unusual shade of amber—widened when they collided with mine.

The air shimmered between us, an electric tingle that vibrated with unspoken words. My stomach hollowed. Horror and fear caught in my throat, made my legs wobbly as my heart thundered in my chest.

We moved at the same time: I strode toward her while she grabbed the boy’s arm and tugged him out the door. I crossed the reception area, careful not to appear too urgent, and threw the door open.

But they were already disappearing into the stairwell.

Gone.

CHAPTER 26

I SAW MY LAST patient and murmured an excuse to Brittany before leaving in a rush. In my car, I took out my burner phone and texted Gabe:

One of the girls from Ben’s van came into my clinic. Think she recognized me.

Gabe replied almost immediately.

Shit. Tell Ben. He can talk to her.

But what if he didn’t get to her in time? No, I couldn’t just sit around waiting for my world to crash around me.