Jackson hit the automatic doors at a near-run. The lobby smelled like lemon and anxiety. “St. River—Burn Unit," he snapped at the desk.
“Fourth floor," the receptionist said. “Visiting hours—"
He was already in the elevator.
The fourth-floor corridor looked too bright. He reached Room 412, grabbed the handle, and pushed in.
Blank sheets. No flowers. No garment bag in the closet. No sign of a person who had breathed here for a month.
Jackson stood very still. “Where is she," he said to the air.
Mara appeared in the doorway with a chart in her hands and a face that didn't give anything away. “Mr. Hale."
“Where is she."
“Not here," Mara said.
He stepped toward her. “Don't play with me."
“I wouldn't," she said evenly.
Doctor Hsu arrived behind her, calm as a clock. “Mr. Hale. We wer
