Yes, her new shirt covered her. Yes, she’d scooped all of her hair up off her neck and twisted it into that severe-looking bun. It made her look only slightly older, and she found herself longing for a hat and sunglasses.
Because Mr. Nelson and Todd were still out there, looking for her.
And Neesha knew that neither would rest until they found her.
CHAPTER
SIX
L ANDSTUHL , G ERMANY
T UESDAY, 5 M AY 2009
M arkie-Mark Jenkins wanted to visit Dan Gillman one last time before he and Izzy went wheels up and headed back to San Diego.
And because Izzy didn’t want to get into the gnarly details of why he didn’t want to go with, he found himself walking through the halls of the one place where he least wanted to be this morning—the one place he could actually come face-to-face again with Cynthia, since she worked here.
Still, he walked quickly and kept his head down and made it without mishap into the relative safety of Gillman’s room.
Dan was stuck here in the hospital for at least another few days—maybe less if he could convince the doctors that he wasn’t going to overexert himself. The nursing staff was also monitoring the fishboy for signs of infection, still calling him a “medical miracle,” because he’d survived quite a few touch-and-go days in the ICU after having first been brought in
But apparently Dan hadn’t gotten that particular memo, because he was looking remarkably average as he slept with his mouth open, his hair going every which way, and his face smashed against a pillow that bore a dark spot of his allegedly miraculous drool.
He’d kicked off part of his blanket, and sure enough, there was the leg in question—the one that everyone had dourly expected wouldneed amputation. But Dan’s little piggy toes looked pink and healthy, and Izzy felt a hot rush of gladness that he usually didn’t associate with anything having to do with his arch-nemesis.
As Izzy and Jenk came farther into the room, Jennilyn LeMay, Danny’s first-rate, top-notch, high-class, too-good-for-him girlfriend stood up from where she was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to the fishboy’s bed, and put her finger to her lips.
“He’s been sleeping so badly at night,” she told them almost in-audibly. “He didn’t want to nap, but … When he finally does fall asleep, I just don’t have the heart to wake him.”
Danny wasn’t the only one sleeping badly. Jenn looked exhausted, and had clearly given up all attempts at looking professional, which was actually an improvement, in Izzy’s book. She was one of those women whose coif surrendered to a bad hair day with the slightest change in the weather, and who invariably snagged her stockings if she walked or moved. She was the one who’d lose a button on her strait-laced suit jacket thirty seconds before the Big Important Meeting, and she, alone, would get splashed when a car went through a puddle going round a corner. It was her shoulder the baby would throw up on while his diaper leaked on her sleeve, and while riding the subway, she was guaranteed to get jostled and spill her coffee down the front of her blouse.
She also had what Izzy thought of as a milk-maid complexion and physique. She was a tall, strapping, healthy young woman with gorgeous, fresh-looking skin. And she looked far more natural in the jeans, sneakers, and curve-hugging T-shirt she currently had on, with her baby-fine hair pulled back into a ponytail, all makeup scrubbed from her ordinary yet extremely not-unpleasant face.
“You look like you could use a break,” Jenkie told her. “We’ll sit with Danny for a while, if you want.”
Jenn looked uncertain until Izzy added, “We’ll stay until you get back. Go on, I can hear the coffee from the mess hall singing your name in three-part harmony.
Jenny, I’ve got your number, I need to make you mine …”
She smiled when he sang and dimples appeared, and as Izzy gazed through her glasses and into her eyes—a
Because Mr. Nelson and Todd were still out there, looking for her.
And Neesha knew that neither would rest until they found her.
CHAPTER
SIX
L ANDSTUHL , G ERMANY
T UESDAY, 5 M AY 2009
M arkie-Mark Jenkins wanted to visit Dan Gillman one last time before he and Izzy went wheels up and headed back to San Diego.
And because Izzy didn’t want to get into the gnarly details of why he didn’t want to go with, he found himself walking through the halls of the one place where he least wanted to be this morning—the one place he could actually come face-to-face again with Cynthia, since she worked here.
Still, he walked quickly and kept his head down and made it without mishap into the relative safety of Gillman’s room.
Dan was stuck here in the hospital for at least another few days—maybe less if he could convince the doctors that he wasn’t going to overexert himself. The nursing staff was also monitoring the fishboy for signs of infection, still calling him a “medical miracle,” because he’d survived quite a few touch-and-go days in the ICU after having first been brought in
But apparently Dan hadn’t gotten that particular memo, because he was looking remarkably average as he slept with his mouth open, his hair going every which way, and his face smashed against a pillow that bore a dark spot of his allegedly miraculous drool.
He’d kicked off part of his blanket, and sure enough, there was the leg in question—the one that everyone had dourly expected wouldneed amputation. But Dan’s little piggy toes looked pink and healthy, and Izzy felt a hot rush of gladness that he usually didn’t associate with anything having to do with his arch-nemesis.
As Izzy and Jenk came farther into the room, Jennilyn LeMay, Danny’s first-rate, top-notch, high-class, too-good-for-him girlfriend stood up from where she was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair next to the fishboy’s bed, and put her finger to her lips.
“He’s been sleeping so badly at night,” she told them almost in-audibly. “He didn’t want to nap, but … When he finally does fall asleep, I just don’t have the heart to wake him.”
Danny wasn’t the only one sleeping badly. Jenn looked exhausted, and had clearly given up all attempts at looking professional, which was actually an improvement, in Izzy’s book. She was one of those women whose coif surrendered to a bad hair day with the slightest change in the weather, and who invariably snagged her stockings if she walked or moved. She was the one who’d lose a button on her strait-laced suit jacket thirty seconds before the Big Important Meeting, and she, alone, would get splashed when a car went through a puddle going round a corner. It was her shoulder the baby would throw up on while his diaper leaked on her sleeve, and while riding the subway, she was guaranteed to get jostled and spill her coffee down the front of her blouse.
She also had what Izzy thought of as a milk-maid complexion and physique. She was a tall, strapping, healthy young woman with gorgeous, fresh-looking skin. And she looked far more natural in the jeans, sneakers, and curve-hugging T-shirt she currently had on, with her baby-fine hair pulled back into a ponytail, all makeup scrubbed from her ordinary yet extremely not-unpleasant face.
“You look like you could use a break,” Jenkie told her. “We’ll sit with Danny for a while, if you want.”
Jenn looked uncertain until Izzy added, “We’ll stay until you get back. Go on, I can hear the coffee from the mess hall singing your name in three-part harmony.
Jenny, I’ve got your number, I need to make you mine …”
She smiled when he sang and dimples appeared, and as Izzy gazed through her glasses and into her eyes—a
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