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douche canoes.”  She jammed her thumb toward the hallway.
    Taking a fucking number wasn’t a viable option.  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s urgent, and not a request.”
    Their eyes snapped together. A nger made hers swirl like they were comprised of molten gold. “I can’t leave Brooke.”  Her voice dropped to a hair above a whisper.  “You know what the other girls did.  I won’t risk leaving her on her own, even for a minute.  I don’t trust anyone else to watch her.”
    “I’ve heard her boyfriend wants to see her.  That’s the best I can offer.   It won’t take long.”
    She crossed her arms over the LAPD logo on her hooded navy sweatshirt, lips mashed together, a muscle working in her slender jaw.  The curve of her face was surprisingly feminine, more so when it belonged to a woman who had the foulest mouth he’d heard on anyone outside the armed forces.
    “She says she doesn’t want to see him.  You know how fragile her psyche is because of this fuckface.  I don’t want her breaking down when I’ve just started making progress.”
    “Look.”  John pinched the bridge of his nose.  “I wish I didn’t have to do this.  But you know—and probably better than me—what’s going to happen in three days.  Two more are going to disappear, and in three weeks we’ll have another Brooke.” He glanced beyond Sergeant Jennings to the nervous-eyed brunette strapped to the hospital bed, her pale, skinny wrists twisting in restraints.
    She sighed and turned to Brooke.  “I have to update Mr. Federal Agent, but I’ll be back.  Maybe while I’m gone you can see Jack.”
    “I can’t. I can’t see him like this.”
    “Yes, you can.”  Sergeant Jennings walked over and clasped her hand around Brooke’s belted one.  “You’re strong, and you can do it.  He’s your boyfriend, not an alien.  I’ll be back soon.  Right?” She turned a challenging gaze on John.
    “Right.”
    She stomped past him and yelled through the open door.  “Someone get Jack Callahan from the lobby.”
    A uniform scuttled off, and she turned to John.  “If that girl freaks the fuck out and goes batshit when I’m gone, I’m blaming you.”  She pushed past him and stalked down the hallway, long blonde ponytail swaying as she shoved through her fellow brothers in blue.
    John let the door shut behind him. “Noted.”

SIXTEEN
     
    The door flings open, and Jack fills the threshold.  It’s good to know I was right in thinking the threats the man made against Jack were empty.
    He stands there staring like his eyes are deceiving him.  I wonder why until I remember my hair’s not strawberry blonde anymore, the only shade he’s seen it. “Oh, God, Brooke.”
    I struggle to sit up, but he’s already in Lisette’s chair, wrapping his arms around me.  My face crumbles—I can’t help it.  It’s hard staying strong when he’s around. 
    He kisses my forehead, stroking my hair.  I did the same for Abby before she died, and my stomach revolts at the recollection.
    “You just rest now,” I croon foolishly, brushing my lips across her hairline.  They’re wet when I pull away.  I don’t even want to know what from.  Blood, sweat, pus?  A cocktail of all three? 
    “I thought I’d never see you again.  I didn’t know what I’d do without you.”   His hands cup my face when he presses his lips against my chapped ones.  I peek into his light blue eyes for a second, but I have to look away.  It’s like staring into the sun.  “How are you feeling?”  He prods the restraints.  “Why’ve they tied you down?”
    I want to lie, but he’d see through it.  He usually can.  “They think I’m going to kill myself.”  I catch sight of his horrified expression.  “I’m not going to.” Abby martyred herself for a good reason.  I can’t up and kill myself because then all this would be for nothing. 
    “I know you won’t.”
    It’s funny.  As I stare at his hand