CHAPTER FIFTEEN

‘Coast’s clear,’ whispered Jasmine.

Tom followed her stealthily across the hotel lobby. It was five-thirty a.m. The night receptionist was on the phone, her long hair hanging down over her face. She didn’t notice them tip-toe into the large elevator. Tom held his breath until the heavy brass doors closed, and their upward journey was underway. His palms were slick with sweat but his mouth was dry.

Jasmine was staring into space, cool, placid and serene. Like she planned this kind of thing every day.

Stacy had come up with a good plan, brilliant, even. But no matter how clever, it was another stop-gap measure; more time spent hiding in the dark till the bogeyman went away. And Marcie Folan wasn’t going away anytime soon –unless they made her.

As the elevator crawled up to the thirtieth floor, Tom had never felt so alone. No one but Rico even knew they were here. Good old Ric. Together with Stacy, he’d saved Tom’s parents’ lives, at least for now.

Tom sorted through the night’s feverish memories.

‘Here’s what we do,’ Stacy had announced in the back of the wagon. ‘I’m a virologist. So, if we get Tom’s parents to the hospital, I can fake an outbreak of something nasty and highly contagious, and have them placed in isolation. That way, no one can get to them.’

‘But your colleagues, other medical staff,’ Tom argued, ‘they’d question your diagnosis the second they looked at them.’

‘Careful management, Tom. Blind eyes and sympathetic ears,’ Stacy said. ‘If I call on the right people, we can have your mom and dad transferred to another hospital out of state, no questions asked.’

‘You gonna tell his momma and papa about the howlers?’ Rico was wide-eyed. ‘They be locking you up for being crazy.’

‘All they need to know for now is that Tom’s OK, that he’s not a murderer, but that their own lives are in danger.’ She looked at Tom. ‘I’ll leave you to explain to them what else you feel you can.’

‘I can’t see them.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Can’t face them. Not until this is over. Not until …’ He broke off, swallowing back the threatening tears. ‘Damn it, where’s Jicaque vanished off to? He’s supposed to be helping us … and what’s happening to Kate?’

‘One thing at a time, Tom.’ Stacy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘And if Jicaque’s all you say he is, he’ll come through for you.’

We’ll see, Tom thought.

He had written a note to his parents on the back of a postcard, telling them to go to Park East Hospital and ask for Stacy, and not to tell Marcie or Hal Folan where they’d gone. Never to speak to them again. Asking them to trust him.