“Do you by chance have another?”

“Only the number of her answering service.”

“Dr. Lambert tried that. They struck out reaching her, too. Her phone’s battery must’ve run completely dry.” He started backing away and gave her a smile. “Sorry about scaring you.”

Until he turned and started walking away, Abby hadn’t noticed a second man waiting at the elevator. He wasn’t a heart-stopper like the one she’d talked with. He had shifty eyes and looked ill-kempt even in his dark chauffeur’s uniform. She thought this face looked battered, too, but that could have been a trick of the lighting.

Abby couldn’t fathom why Dr. Lambert would need two drivers.

Then again, knowing Dr. Lambert, she figured he needed one for himself and another for his ego.

8:22 p.m.

The hospital complex was a sprawling campus. The concrete arteries connecting the various buildings were lighted like the Vegas strip. The rain helped to blur the lights, but it also kept the sidewalks free of other pedestrians, making Rye and Brynn that much more conspicuous. They covered a lot of ground in a short span of time, but not so much that Rye relaxed his vigil.

He kept them moving at a clip while staying on the lookout for the black Mercedes. He didn’t know positively that Goliad and Timmy were on their trail. But if they weren’t already, they or someone of their ilk in the Hunts’ employ would be soon. The first place they’d look for Brynn would be where she would have expected to find Violet.

Spotting a taxi leaving one of the main buildings, Rye said, “I’ll flag it down. Don’t dawdle.” He dropped Brynn’s hand and took off in a sprint. When she caught up to him, he was holding open the back door; they scrambled in.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“Just drive,” Rye said. “She needs a minute. Got some bad news about her cousin.”

“Any particular direction?”

“Just drive.”

Grumbling, the driver sat forward and drove away. For the first half mile, Rye watched out the rear window, but didn’t detect a tail.

“Are we being followed?”

“I don’t think so. But I could be wrong.”

Brynn pushed back her hood. Passing headlights gave him fleeting glimpses of her face. He couldn’t tell if the watery streaks on her cheeks were tears, rainwater, or reflections of trickles on the windows. Regardless, her expression was telling. She was devastated.

“They knew all along that I would attempt to steal the drug for Violet,” she said. “As proved by the timing of that grotesque display. They staged it while we were making the drive back from Howardville.”

“Even before you ran out on Lambert, the Hunts had hedged their bet by getting Violet out of reach.”

“Worse, they made sure I can’t get to her. Her homecoming will be televised. Which means more media in Tennessee. Lights, cameras.” She placed her fingers against her temples and pressed hard. “I was mentally prepared to cross the line of ethics. I knew the risks and was willing to take them. But I would rather not have a spotlight on me when I did.”

“You could call Mr. and Mrs. Griffin.” Brynn had never revealed to him Violet’s surname, but there was no need for confidentiality any longer. Following the news story, everybody knew their name. The Hunts had made sure of it.

“Call, tell them that you have the GX-42,” he said. “If you got up there before eight p.m. tomorrow, they would send Elsa packing and let you carry on.”

“Would they, Rye? Now? With the spotlight shone on them? I’m not so sure. The risks would be greater for them, too.”

“What if it was your kid?”

She gave a rueful smile over his repetition of her question. “I would send Elsa packing.”

“I’m betting they would, too.”

“But even if they did, there’s a medical team on high alert. With Violet’s welfare being the senator’s ‘top priority,’ she will be closely monitored.” Looking defeated, she said, “The Hunts covered all the bases.”

“Do you think Lambert was behind it?”

She considered it, then shook her head. “If Nate had known about the televised spectacle they had planned, he would have been at the center of it. More than likely he’s irked over being excluded.” She lapsed into thought, then said, “This has her stamp on it.”

“The wife with shoes to die for?”

“She’s the senator’s mama bear. She’s also an excellent promoter. A winner.” She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “They fought dirty, but they won. As a physician, I can’t let this dose go to waste. I’ll deliver them the vial tonight. Humble myself and admit to a temporary loss of reason. Something. I’ll make nice. Uphold my Hippocratic oath. My conscience will be clear, and I’ll no longer be looking over my shoulder for Goliad and Timmy.”

“They’re not the only ones on your tail.”

His tone brought her eyes open. She gave him her full attention.

“I had a call from Dash.”

He related the conversation. Even knowing that her brain was sluggish with exhaustion and desolation, he didn’t spare her the details. She needed to be made aware of everything she was up against.