CHAPTER TWELVE
Eliza Longworth looked wiped out.
By the time Jessie, Ryan, and Brady got to her room at UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica, she had showered and was resting in a bed with a tube in her arm. Her light brown hair, loose and straggly, blocked part of her face.
“I thought you requested she not be cleaned up,” Jessie said to Brady more accusatorily than she intended.
“I did,” he replied, looking at the doctor.
“I got your request but I made a command decision,” the doctor told them as they peeked through the small rectangular window in the door to her room. “She was really hysterical for a while there—covered in her friend’s blood, going on about how she could have saved her if she did CPR a little longer. We had to sedate her.”
“Are we able to talk to her?” Ryan asked.
