Agent Reardon spoke from the doorway, saying, “Sorry to eavesdrop” in a tone that wasn’t remotely apologetic. “Jason, I took the liberty of having your belongings from your campsite moved to the hotel next door. I’ll have some clothes brought over immediately.” She eyed Ben in his dirty, creased uniform. “What size are you? There’s an adjoining room you can have and I’ll make sure clean clothes are waiting. You live out of town, yes? It’ll be easier if you stay put until our investigation is complete. Won’t take long at all, don’t worry.”
Ben nodded. “Absolutely. I’m not going anywhere.”
Jason smiled gratefully, trying to keep up with what Dr. Sharma and the FBI agent had said. His brain was wrapped in cotton, and he straightened up as the words penetrated. “Wait—a private room? Our insurance doesn’t cover that. How much is it?” He’d have to get a loan, and with interest rates it would take years to pay off. He barely had enough for food and rent, and Maggie would need therapy and—
“Jason. Breathe,” Agent Reardon ordered. “It’s all handled. Don’t worry about a thing. Maggie needs rest, and we require privacy to speak with her tomorrow and get more details of her abduction. We don’t need sick kids sneezing and hacking and crying behind a curtain. We’re covering the room upgrade.”
He exhaled slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Of course. Also, we’ve posted agents by the elevators, at both ends of the hall, and outside the door here. Media are crawling all over downstairs and outside.”
“Media?” Jason asked dumbly. “Why?”
Her lips quirked into a brief, sharp smile. “You’re a big story, Jason Kellerman. Single father, dramatic kidnapping, hunky, heroic park ranger thrown in for good measure. The villain was vanquished and the pretty little blond girl saved. This is like manna from heaven for the news outlets. The public are desperate for a feel-good story right now.”
“Oh.” How bizarre to think about people talking about them. Jason took Maggie’s lax hand, her curled fingers warm and real.
“Don’t talk to anyone about what happened. Not even nurses or orderlies. Only Dr. Sharma.” The agent gave Ben another assessing look. “I’m going to assume you’re trustworthy, but if you blab anything to the media, there will be hell to pay.”
Jason sputtered. “He would never!”
Ben held up his hands. “It’s okay. I understand you have a job to do. You can trust me.”
Agent Reardon nodded briskly. “Good. One of my agents killed the suspect, and we need the complete picture before the media starts spinning its usual bullshit and half-truths. All they know so far is what we’re telling them. Let’s keep it that way.” She turned on her heel. “Sleep well. And you both really do smell like shit.”
In her wake, Jason, Ben, and Dr. Sharma looked at each other. Ben said, “She’s a real people person, huh?”
Then Jason was laughing again—laughing—and he leaned over Maggie to breathe her in.
Ben jammed his baby toe on the wheel of the cot, and bit back a curse as he hopped on one foot. That’s what he got for pacing in socks. His muddy boots were tucked under the chair in the corner, and he really didn’t want to put them back on.
The plain T-shirt he’d been given was a little tight across his shoulders and boxers a little loose beneath okay jeans, but it would do. He’d left to give Jason privacy while Dr. Sharma examined him, and had practically run to the hotel next door, accompanied by agents who whisked him in and out through a side entrance, away from the buzz of reporters around front.
Part of Ben had wanted to stand under the stream of hot water for hours, but he’d hurried back, promising Jason he’d watch Maggie while Jason showered after being declared only bruised and exhausted by Dr. Sharma.
Ben peered at Maggie again in the low yellow light of a lamp in the corner. She was sound asleep, lips softly parted, the blue tint fading. Her chest rose and fell, lungs still rasping, and he carefully tucked the blanket up around her a little higher.
Then he paced again.
To the window, past the cot to the door, then back. He hadn’t even glimpsed the sky in the alley between hotel and hospital, but now he could see the moon’s pale glow through the glass.
All was silent beyond the closed bathroom door, and he stared at it on each pass of the small room. There’d been no running water. Maybe Jason was just on the toilet, and Ben shouldn’t interrupt.
But what if he passed out and I didn’t hear the thump? What if he’s hurt after all? What if he needs help?
Stomach tight, he knocked on the bathroom door, just a brush of his knuckles. “Jason? Are you okay in there?”
“I’m…”
Twisting the handle after a few ragged heartbeats, Ben edged the door open. “Everything okay?”