Six months later . . .
“Tonight’s the night,” Cameron says as we walk through the halls of the hospital. “I’m going to tell Gina I love her.”
“Seriously?” I stop walking and think about what he’s saying. They’ve been joined at the hip for five months now, I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. “I think that’s great, Cam.”
“Do you?” he asks.
I pat him on the back. “Of course, I do. Gina and I haven’t been together for a long time. I told you back then it was all good. Plus, I owe you big time. When you guys started hooking up, it took a lot of the heat off me. I’m just glad we can all still be friends.”
He studies me. “I know you are. But I’ve always wondered if you regret pushing her away. Especially after Elizabeth split.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut at the mention of her name. I start walking again.
“Hey, man. I’m sorry,” Cameron says. “I didn’t mean to bring her up. I know it’s a sore spot with you. I know you’ve been trying hard to move on.”
“It is what it is,” I tell him. “It’s all good, Cam. Go have a great night with Gina.”
On my way to the cafeteria, I think of how I am truly happy for him. For them. Gina and I were never right for one another. We got each other through some stressful times, and for that, I’m grateful.
I was pissed at her for weeks. I blamed her for Elizabeth running away. But in time, I forgave her. After all, I was the one who lied. I was the one who crossed the line.
Before I’m finished with my meal, I get paged back to the ER.
Diane hands me a chart. “Dr. Stone, we have a young man with an open wound in curtain six. Man versus Cujo.”
I open the curtain to find a nurse setting up a procedure tray.
I look at the chart to see the patient’s name. “Mr. Howard, I’m Dr. Stone. It says here you’ve suffered a dog bite.”
He nods. “Danger of the job,” he says. “I walk dogs.”
I turn my head to the side and study him. I can’t help but think about her. Elizabeth. I want to ask him if he knows her. Maybe all dog walkers hang out in the same circles.
If she’s still doing it, that is.
I’ve looked. I’ve spent hours upon hours walking the streets of New York looking for her. I’ve followed other dog walkers, run up on every woman pushing a stroller, eaten at Sal’s so many times I’m sick of Chinese food.
I called every number in her phone. All fifteen of them. Every single one was a dog-walking client. None of them had heard from her.
I even used Ethan’s agency to try and track down Elizabeth or Grant Smith, but they couldn’t find any solid leads when we didn’t have much to go on. What they did tell me, however, is that no Elizabeth Smith attended the University of Maryland around the time she could have gone there.
There are a lot of Elizabeth Smith’s in the world. Just not my Elizabeth Smith.
It’s as if she never existed.
Diane pops her head around the curtain as I’m finishing up with Mr. Howard. “There’s someone to see you out in the waiting room.”
My heart pounds. Someone to see me? Could it be her? Everyone else I know would text me.
I rip off my gloves and head out past ground zero, looking through the glass to see if it’s her. But she’s not there.
I walk through the doors.
“Dr. Stone?” a man asks.
He’s a big guy. Intimidating. Taller than me and heavier by a good fifty pounds. He has a crew cut and is clean shaven, with a few scars on his face that reek of fist-fights.
“How can I help you?” I ask.
He pulls a picture out of his pocket. “Your receptionist said she recognized this girl. Said you might have treated her some time ago.”
I look at the picture and try not to react. It takes all my willpower to hold in my emotions. My questions. Because I’m staring at a picture of Elizabeth. Only she’s a brunette. And, Jesus, she’s even more beautiful than she was as a blonde.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” I say.
“Grant,” he says. “Grant Lucas.”
Holy motherfucker.
I try to stay calm. “Why are you looking for this girl?” I ask, my heart beating so fucking loud, I’m positive he must hear it.
He pulls out a badge and flashes it at me. I grab it before he can put it back in his pocket.
I examine it and then look up at him with a hard stare. “Your badge says Chicago P.D. Looks like you’re a little out of your jurisdiction.”
“Have you seen her or not?” he asks, getting pissed as he rips his badge out of my hand.
The wheels in my head are spinning. I don’t have to reveal any patient information. Not even to a cop. Especially not to a Chicago cop. Then again, if this guy is her husband, he might keep pressing the hospital for information until he gets what he wants.
I study the picture some more, as if I’m trying to remember her. “You know, I do remember her. I mean, she’s hot, what’s not to remember?”
He snorts in amusement. Good, I need him on my side.
“How long ago?” he asks.
I shrug. “A few months. Maybe more. She had a cut on her face,” I lie. “Said she was mad because she was heading to . . . I’m not sure, but Boston maybe? Said she was going on some job interview there.”
“A cut huh?” he asks.
“Yup. Four or five stitches if I recall.”
He scrubs his hands across his face and I get a glimpse of a tattoo on his right wrist. Oh, shit! It looks just like Elizabeth’s.
I try to keep him talking so I have a chance to get a better look at it. “Hope her job wasn’t for a modeling contract,” I say, laughing. “Shame really. She had a great face, too.”
“I’m going to need to see her hospital records,” he says.
“Do you have a subpoena?” I ask.
“No.”
I shrug nonchalantly like I don’t really care. “I wish I could help, but hospital records are sealed records. And since it was so long ago, it’s not like I can just get her chart. It’s been archived.”
I look around the room, pretending I’m making sure we’re alone, like I’m about to give him sensitive information. “But, hey, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure you’d get much out of seeing her chart. If I recall, the girl didn’t give us any information. She was a closed book. Maybe she got clocked by a john and was afraid to give her address. Whatever it was, she was in and out quickly. Hell, I don’t even remember her name.”
He sighs in frustration. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card.
It’s now when I realize he hasn’t mentioned her pregnancy. Or a baby. Does he not know?
“If you ever see her again, give me a shout. It’s important. She has something I can’t get from anyone else.”
“Hey no problem.” I take the card and extend my hand to him.
When he shakes it, I don’t let go. I turn his hand so I can see his wrist. “Great ink, man. I’ve been thinking of getting one myself. You don’t happen to know of any good places here in New York, do you?”
I check out his tattoo as I speak to him. It’s the same fucking one she has. Except his is more manly. And his has a different name.
Alexa.