Chapter Twenty-SevenThe sun was well past its zenith when Trevor raced up the steps into St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, his heart pounding in his ears. The nurse on the telephone said Ruth had a slight concussion. If that was the case, why had they admitted her? Had the woman been honest in her assessment? Were the doctors simply taking precautions?
He rushed through the door, the sharp antiseptic smell of the hospital assaulting his nose. He stopped at the reception desk, whipped off his hat, and presented his badge. “Detective Inspector Trevor Gelson to see Miss Ruth Brown.”
“We’ve been expecting you.” The woman peered at him from behind her round wire-rimmed glasses. “One moment while I call Dr. Wilkins.”
Trevor gripped his fedora, crumpling the wide brim. The receptionist lifted the re
