She had an interesting way of defining the word problem, but Chay figured debating that wouldn’t be helpful.
“When was the last time you were in touch with this guy’s doctor?”
Bianca thought back. “Weeks,” she finally said.
Chay nodded as they stood on the corner and waited for the light to go green.
“I want you to contact him again. Find out if anything has changed.” They stepped off the curb. “And it’s possible, isn’t it, that a patient you wouldn’t connect with this kind of behavior is responsible for it anyway?”
She hesitated. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”
They stepped onto the sidewalk. The hotel was just ahead and Chay picked up their pace, knowing he’d feel better once he had her safely inside. He’d considered—and discarded—the idea of not returning here. Of checking them into a different hotel.
If someone was tailing them, that might be the prudent course of action.
On the other hand, if, in fact, they were being followed, going someplace else would alert the follower that he’d been made.
Besides, Chay already knew the layout of this place. Like lots of other crisis-hardened cops and soldiers, he’d automatically asked for a room with certain characteristics when he’d checked in: he didn’t want to be next to the elevators or the fire stairs, or even next to an ice machine because the sound of the machine could dull other sounds that might be more important.
He felt comfortable staying here for the night—but they’d be out by tomorrow. He already knew where they’d be heading, just as he knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to drop that information on Bianca tonight.
“So,” he said as they neared the hotel, “I want you to phone that doctor tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday. I don’t know if he’ll be available.”
“Make him available. Tell him this is urgent. And while you’re doing that, I’ll take a look at your files.”
Bianca didn’t answer for what seemed a very long time.
“The most I’ll agree to,” she finally said, “is that I’ll go through them and look for indicators of personality disorders that might lead to such erratic behavior.”
Jesus H. Christ! Somebody had ugly plans for his woman and she was talking psychobabble. Yeah. Okay. Maybe that helped her deal with it.
He knew what would help him, and there was no reason to share that kind of thing with her.
“That’s good,” he said, lying through his teeth.
The doorman smiled as he opened the front doors. Chay nodded at him, led Bianca to the elevators, stabbed the call button. Then he turned and took a long, hard look around the lobby. Nobody looked out of place. Still, when the elevator doors opened, he hurried her inside the car.
She gave a little shudder as the car rose.
“What?” Chay said.
“Nothing. Just me, suddenly remembering yesterday, the blackout in my office building.” She made a little sound that might have qualified as a laugh. “Would you believe that the lights had already dimmed and still I came this cl
ose to getting in the elevator?”
She held up her hand, thumb and forefinger an inch apart. An alarm bell went off in his head. That blackout. He’d been concerned about that blackout yesterday, but he hadn’t followed through…
“Good thing you didn’t,” he said, with what he hoped was casual ease, and he lowered his head and kissed her fingers.
When they reached their room, he stepped in front of her as he inserted the key card in the lock.
The door swung open and he breathed a sigh of relief. The room was just as they’d left it, except the maid had been there to turn down the duvet and leave chocolates on the pillows.
Chay closed the door and locked it. Then he took Bianca in his arms.
“Bianca.”