The light above the elevator indicated that it was still on the third floor. For the second time in three hours Rye opted for the fire stairs. He climbed, taking several at a time, rounded the landings without slowing, and burst through the door marked “THREE,” winded but wild to find Brynn.

The long and empty hallway stretched both left and right. He ran several yards in one direction, didn’t spot anyone or hear voices behind the closed doors, reversed direction and ran the other way until he reached the last room, where light shone into the hall through the door standing ajar.

He pushed it open and went in. There was a hospital bed, empty except for a pink, well-worn stuffed bunny lying on the pillow. Under the window, a twin bed, the linens stripped from it and piled in a bundle on the bare mattress. Coloring book pages of ballerinas taped to the walls.

Rye registered all this within a second.

Brynn and a young woman with a name tag clipped to her scrubs were standing before a wall-mounted flat-screen TV, watching the same news story Rye had seen a portion of downstairs.

Hearing him huff up behind her, Brynn turned her head. Her face had been leached of color; her expression was stark with despair. He moved to stand beside her in a show of support, but he didn’t touch her, aware of the other woman’s curiosity over his sudden appearance.

The news story ended with a wrap-up from the smiling anchorwoman. “Senator and Mrs. Hunt certainly made it a memorable Thanksgiving for little Violet and her family, hey, Mark?”

The co-anchor looked into the camera through moist eyes. “They certainly did. What an inspiring and heartwarming story for Thanksgiving night. And the story isn’t over. We’ll have coverage of Violet’s homecoming for you on our morning program.”

He went on about it being a day to count blessings and spread happiness to those in need of cheering, that everyone should take the Hunts’ example to heart. Rye’s stomach turned. Since Brynn appeared to be hypnotized by the anchor’s blather, he plucked the remote from her hand and muted the audio.

The name-tagged woman regarded him with uncertainty. “Are you with Dr. O’Neal?”

Brynn roused herself. “I’m sorry. Abby, this is…uh…my…friend.”

He hitched his chin. “Hi.”

Abby said hi back, then, “Is everything all right, Dr. O’Neal?”

Brynn placed a reassuring hand on the young woman’s arm. “Yes, of course. Fine. I’m just more than a little surprised that I wasn’t consulted before all this took place.” She motioned toward the TV. “Who signed Violet out? Dr. Lambert?”

“No.” The doctor she named must’ve been familiar to Brynn. She gave an absent nod. “I would like to have been notified, so I could be here to wish Violet a safe journey home.”

“It all happened so suddenly,” Abby said with a genial smile. “No sooner had I come on duty than the TV vans started pulling up outside the gate. I’m told that only the administrator was given a heads-up, and barely fifteen minutes before the Hunts themselves arrived in a long white limo. They intended for it to be a surprise, and said that it wasn’t about them, it was about Violet.”

“Leaving one to wonder how the TV stations knew of it in advance,” Brynn said.

Abby shrugged. “They’re such a high-profile couple, I guess it’s hard for them to keep anything under wraps.”

“The limo might have been a giveaway,” Rye said. He admired Brynn’s ability to maintain her forced smile when he felt like smashing something.

Brynn asked, “Was it ever explained how Violet came to be chosen for this—”

“Farce.”

“—honor?” Brynn asked, talking over Rye’s angry whisper.

Abby’s lips formed a moue of sadness. “I heard the senator telling one of the reporters that they wanted to do this for a child who was seriously ill, but well enough to withstand the trip.” She laughed softly. “Of course the travel was streamlined for her. They made it hassle-free for Violet and her mother.”

“Yes,” Brynn said, keeping her smile pasted on, “they literally rolled out the red carpet for them.”

The news vans had caravanned behind the Hunts’ limousine to a private landing strip where the couple’s Gulfstream had been waiting to fly Violet and her mother to Tennessee for a reunion with her father, brothers, and beloved dog, Cy.

Cameras had captured the red carpet–white glove treatment extended to them by the two pilots and flight attendant, as well as the fond farewell hug that the senator and his wife had bestowed on a smiling Violet and her tearfully grateful mother.

The end of the poignant story had shown the Hunts’ jet soaring off the runway into a rainy sky. The two stood arm-in-arm on the tarmac beneath an umbrella, waving until the plane’s blinking lights disappeared into the clouds, which was the fade-out shot that had brought tears to the anchorman’s eyes.

“Violet has more surprises in store,” Abby informed them in a hushed, happy voice. “Elsa from Frozen is scheduled to visit her at home tomorrow. Violet is also going to receive a new iPad, with all her favorite apps already downloaded, and a TV for her bedroom.” She chatted on, unaware of how appalling this was to Brynn.

“Mrs. Hunt is even prettier in person than she is on TV. Her suit was just okay, but her shoes were to die for.”

Before Abby could expand on wardrobe, Rye clasped Brynn’s elbow and said in an undertone, “We need to get out of here.”

Brynn must’ve picked up on his urgency and the reason for it. She said to Abby, “We’re due at a party. I only wanted to stop by and say a quick hi to Violet.”

Rye steered her around, out of the room, and down the hall toward the elevator. She went without protest.

Abby fell into step with them. “As close as you are to Violet and her family, I’m sure they would welcome a call from you. And she’ll be back on Tuesday.”

Tuesday. Days past the GX-42’s expiration.

“Yes,” Brynn said. “Her next radiation treatment is scheduled for Wednesday.” She worried her lower lip. “No matter how streamlined the trip, her autoimmune system is so weakened, I worry about infection. Severe fatigue.”

“I overheard Mrs. Hunt say that the flight crew has the weekend off, but they’ll be flying Violet back. And she’s being safeguarded. Violet’s doctor in Knoxville was put on notice. A medical team supervised by him will be on standby the whole time she’s there. The senator insisted on that. Violet’s welfare is his top priority.”

Brynn and Rye exchanged a look.

“It’s a shame you got here too late to see her off.”

Quietly, Brynn said, “Much too late.”

“I need to get back to work,” Abby said. “Have fun at your party.”

She started back down the hall. Rye watched her until she reentered Violet’s room. As they drew abreast of the elevator, he noticed that the ground floor button was lighted, indicating that someone had summoned it. It could have been anybody. But the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and he trusted that instinct. He wheeled Brynn around. “Hurry.”

She reacted without question as he towed her toward the fire stairs and rushed her down them. When they reached the first floor, he opened the door a crack. No one was at the elevator or in the corridor. The guard was still hunched over the television, his back to them. “Is there another way out?”

“An emergency exit on the other side of the building.”

“Will an alarm go off if we open it?”

“I have the code to disarm it.”

“Lead the way.”

They slipped through the door without drawing the guard’s notice and walked as rapidly and as silently as they could. Rye continued looking over his shoulder, checking the fire stairs door they had just come through. His ears were attuned for the ping that would signal the arrival of the elevator.

They rounded a corner at an intersection of hallways. The emergency exit was at the far end of one. He and Brynn jogged toward it. Brynn punched in the code on the keypad, and a lock released with a loud metallic click. No alarm blared when Rye depressed the metal bar and pushed open the heavy door.

He ushered Brynn out ahead of him and, after one last look behind him, followed her. He waited only long enough to hear the reassuring click of the door relocking, then grabbed her hand and took off in a dead run.

8:18 p.m.

Abby emerged from Violet’s room with her arms full of bedding, but drew up short in fright. A tall man was standing just beyond the door. “Mercy, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Can I help you? Only family is allowed—”

“Oh, I know. The guard said. But I’m Dr. Lambert’s driver tonight. He didn’t want to get out of the car in the rain, so he sent me in to see if Dr. O’Neal was here. He needs to consult with her about a patient. Sure enough, when I asked the guard, he told me she came in not long ago.”

“She was here. You just missed her.”

“By how much?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t meet them in the elevator.”