10
Sara
The drive to the hospital takes nearly two hours—we hit traffic on the way—and my nerves are stretched thin by the time the driver drops me off by the hospital entrance and disappears. He didn’t reply to any of my questions, so I have no idea who he is or what his relationship is to Peter and his team. And maybe it’s for the best. I have no doubt I’ll be questioned as soon as the FBI learn I’m here.
My hope is to see Mom and Dad before that happens.
Fighting to contain my anxiety, I hurry through the familiar hallways. I need no signs to point me to the ICU. This hospital is where I did my residency and where I worked all those years; it’s more home to me than the house I lived in.
“Lorna Weisman?” I ask, rushing up to the ICU check-in desk, and then I wait, silently screaming
