The Silence That Speaks (Forensic Instincts 4) - Page 85
“No. Just finding out who has one.”
* * *
Roger was utterly exhausted.
He turned the key to the front door of his Brooklyn apartment, kicked the door shut behind him and pulled off his wrinkled clothes as he walked toward the bathroom.
A minute later, he was standing under a steaming shower.
He hadn’t been home in three days.
All he’d done was stare at the computer screen for hours at a time, running one query after another on several hospital databases and providing a bunch of pompous, pain-in-the-ass lawyers with the information they wanted.
Frankly he was losing patience. He didn’t care about the lawsuit. He didn’t even care if the hospital went down and he wound up losing his job. Talent like his would be appreciated elsewhere.
The only reason he was working so hard to stick around Manhattan Memorial was Emma.
Roger’s heart beat faster just thinking about her. She was funny and beautiful, and she listened to him like he was important. He’d never known a girl like her.
Hunger started to swell up inside him, and his hand slid down his body to relieve the painful longing.
Soon he wouldn’t have to do this.
Soon he’d have the real thing.
* * *
Sleep wasn’t coming to him that night, regardless of his exhaustion. His body was tense from stress and from sexual need. They’d be going out on their first date soon. He’d get up the guts to do something then. He had to believe she’d be receptive. Maybe she even wanted him as much as he wanted her. If not, he’d convince her.
He couldn’t take lying there anymore. He turned on the lamp next to his bed and squinted at the clock—2:00 a.m.
He wondered what she was doing now. Probably sleeping, that luscious blond hair spread out across her pillow. And then she’d wake up, open those gorgeous eyes, flash that beautiful smile and brush that incredible hair.
It was unearthly, fit for a princess.
But like any true hero, Roger knew he had to earn his princess.
Groping on his nightstand, he found and put on his glasses and grabbed his favorite toy: a Nintendo 3DS. It was a portable three-dimensional gaming system capable of transporting him to many different worlds, whenever he wanted.
And right now all Roger wanted was to save his magnificent blonde princess.
Popping in the cartridge, Roger entered the world of Zelda. In that moment, Roger became Link, the brave warrior fighting to save his Princess Zelda. The game started from his last save, where he was ready to enter Hyrule Castle.
Once inside, Link had to defeat the dozens of guards blocking his path. Cycling between weapons, Link destroyed every guard, statue and enemy in his quest to save the princess. Weaving his way up staircases and down long hallways and killing guards along the way, Link finally made it to the top level of the castle. There she was! The beautiful Princess Zelda was once again being held captive by the evil Yuga. To Link’s horror, Yuga used his black magic to transform her into a stunning portrait. She was trapped. Link knew he had to defeat Yuga. He chased the evil sorcerer through the castle—and the Boss Battle began.
Dozens of sword-slashes later, Link won the battle. But Yuga escaped again with the princess trapped in the portrait. Link followed, and suddenly found himself sucked into another world: Lorule. Dark and scary though it was, Link didn’t care. He would follow Princess Zelda to the end of time and earn her love by becoming the hero she needed.
Sighing, Roger saved his game and powered off the 3DS. If only he had Link’s courage and confidence. Then he would win Emma for sure.
It was now 4:00 a.m. He had to be back at work in two hours. Time to try sleeping again.
He turned the lamp off and started to doze. Images of blonde princesses flashed through his head, and he finally fell asleep with a smile on his face.
27
IF MADELINE THOUGHT things were going to get better, she was wrong.
The more days that passed, and the more visible the attorneys and accountants were within the hospital walls, the more hostile her work environment became. Even the people she’d counted on to reach out to her were too angry or too afraid of the ramifications to do so. Once in a while, she’d see one of her colleague friends gazing in her direction, as if they wanted to say something reassuring, but then thought better of it and hurried on their way.
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