Chapter 6 - The Hospital Visitor and the Man Who Wouldn't Let Her Walk Away
By the time I reached St. Catherine Medical Center, the winter sun was already disappearing behind the buildings.
I had spent most of the day in police facilities, courtrooms, and secure conference rooms.
I hadn't slept.
I hadn't changed my clothes.
My arm ached beneath its bandage.
And I still had an ugly red Christmas sweater folded inside my handbag because I couldn't bring myself to throw it away.
Nicholas insisted I travel with security.
I insisted that Detective Ortiz be told where we were going.
We compromised.
He arranged transportation.
I made the call.
And when we reached the hospital, he asked whether I wanted him beside me.
"Yes," I admitted.
The answer surprised both of us.
He nodded once.
Then followed me through the revolving doors.
St. Catherine was the only place in Milwaukee where I usually felt completely certain of myself.
I knew the corridors.
The elevator delays.
The nurses who kept candy in their pockets.
The residents who spoke too quickly.
The families who arrived frightened, exhausted, and desperate for someone to help them understand what was happening.
I had spent nine years working as an ASL interpreter.
I had sat beside people hearing that a loved one wouldn't survive the night.
I had helped parents communicate with physicians about sick children.
I had interpreted the first conversation between a patient and her husband after he woke from a coma.
I knew the job mattered.
I knew I was good at it.
And I knew the moment I walked through the hospital doors beside Nicholas Valenti, every person in the lobby would stop seeing me as Audrey Keane.
They would see the woman from the Christmas gala.
The woman in the viral video.
The mafia boss's mysterious girlfriend.
A nurse behind the reception desk recognized me.
Her eyes widened.
Then she saw Nicholas.
Her mouth fell open.
I smiled weakly.
"Evening, Donna."
She stared.
"Audrey?"
"Yes."
"Are you okay?"
"Long story."
Her eyes flicked toward Nicholas.
"Apparently."
I almost laughed.
Nicholas looked perfectly comfortable.
Of course he did.
He was a man who could walk into a room full of armed strangers and act as though the furniture belonged to him.
I, on the other hand, wanted to crawl behind a vending machine.
Tessa met us outside the interpreter services office.
She was five feet three, wore bright purple glasses, and possessed enough energy to power a small city.
She launched herself at me.
"YOU ARE ALIVE!"
I winced.
"My arm."
She immediately stepped back.
"Oh my God. I'm sorry."
Then she looked at Nicholas.
And froze.
Her eyes traveled upward.
And upward.
Then she whispered, "He's very tall."
"Tessa."
"And very real."
"Tessa."
"And he's standing right here."
Nicholas extended his hand.
"Nicholas Valenti."
Tessa shook it.
"Yes. I know. Everyone knows."
She looked at me.
"You could have told me you were dating a billionaire."
"We're not dating."
Nicholas cleared his throat.
"That's accurate."
Tessa looked between us.
Her expression became delighted.
"Oh, this is going to be interesting."
I wanted to disappear.
"Can we focus on the strange man asking about my mother?"
Her smile vanished.
"Right."
She led us into the office.
The hallway was empty.
Tessa closed the door.
"The first time he came, he said he was arranging accessibility support for a Valenti family member. He knew you were an interpreter and asked whether you'd be assigned."
"That might have been legitimate," I said.
"That's what I thought. But then he asked whether you lived alone."
Nicholas's expression changed.
Tessa continued.
"I told him I couldn't share employee information. He got irritated. Said he was authorized to collect it."
"Did he show identification?"
"No."
"Description?"
"Forties. Medium build. Dark hair. Gray coat. He had a cut near his mouth."
Every hair on my body stood up.
"A scar?"
Tessa frowned.
"Yes. How did you know?"
I grabbed the edge of the desk.
The younger fake waiter.
He had escaped the gala.
And now he had come to my workplace.
Nicholas took out his phone.
"Ortiz. We have a possible sighting of one of the suspects."
Tessa stared at me.
"Suspect?"
I nodded.
"In last night's shooting."
Her face drained of color.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she whispered, "He stood right there."
She pointed toward my desk.
"Where?"
"Beside your chair. He looked through the papers stacked there."
I felt sick.
There were patient schedules in that office.
Not full medical records, but enough information to identify appointments and interpreter assignments.
If someone had accessed them, hospital security needed to investigate.
Nicholas spoke into his phone.
"Get an officer here. And the hospital needs to preserve the hallway footage."
He listened.
Then nodded.
"We'll stay until they arrive."
Tessa folded her arms around herself.
"I thought he was just a pushy administrator."
"You did the right thing," I told her.
Her eyes filled.
"He knew your mother's name."
"I know."
"What is happening, Audrey?"
I looked at Nicholas.
He looked back.
Then I told Tessa the truth.
Not every detail.
Not the contents of the video.
Not the evidence the police were examining.
But enough.
By the time I finished, her hands were trembling.
"Oh my God."
"I know."
"Your mother?"
"She's safe right now."
Tessa's face hardened.
"Good. Because if anyone hurts Ruth, I'm going to become a problem."
I smiled weakly.
"You're already a problem."
"Yes, but I usually limit myself to administrative complaints."
Nicholas almost smiled.
Then someone knocked.
A familiar voice came through the door.
"Audrey?"
My entire body stiffened.
Colin.
Of all the people I had hoped to avoid, Colin Fletcher was near the top of the list.
Tessa's expression went dark.
"Oh, absolutely not."
The door opened before either of us answered.
Colin stood in the doorway wearing navy scrubs beneath a white coat.
He was handsome in a polished, carefully maintained way.
Light brown hair.
Blue eyes.
A smile that had once made me feel chosen.
Now it mostly made me tired.
His gaze moved over me.
Then to Nicholas.
Then back.
"What the hell is going on?"
I folded my arms.
"Hello to you too."
Colin stepped inside.
"I've been calling you."
"I noticed."
"You haven't answered."
"Also noticed."
He looked at Nicholas.
"Can we talk privately?"
"No."
His expression tightened.
"Audrey, don't do this."
"Do what?"
"Make a scene."
Tessa laughed.
A sharp, humorless sound.
"You came into her office without being invited."
Colin ignored her.
"Everybody has seen the video."
I stared.
"Which video?"
"The Christmas gala. You walking into that man's party. Him saying you're his date."
I tilted my head.
"That man is standing right there."
Colin finally turned toward Nicholas.
"Look, I don't know what your arrangement is, but Audrey isn't the kind of woman who belongs in your world."
Nicholas said nothing.
He simply looked at Colin.
It was impressive how uncomfortable silence could become.
Colin continued.
"She's a hospital interpreter. She's not some socialite who understands this kind of publicity."
I felt anger rise.
"Colin."
He turned back.
"I'm trying to protect you."
Those five words.
I had heard them so many times.
Whenever he criticized my clothes.
Whenever he complained about my mother's visits.
Whenever he told me to stop taking late-night emergency interpretation shifts because his schedule should come first.
He was always protecting me.
Usually from choices I had already made.
"Did I ask you to?" I said.
He blinked.
"What?"
"Did I ask you to protect me?"
"Audrey, be reasonable."
"I am being reasonable."
"You were involved in a shooting at a party hosted by a criminal."
Nicholas's eyes darkened.
But he stayed silent.
I stepped closer to Colin.
"You were involved in a relationship with another woman while still telling me you loved me. And somehow you think you're qualified to lecture me about dangerous men."
Tessa covered her mouth.
Colin's cheeks turned red.
"That was private."
"So is my life."
"Marina and I—"
"Don't."
He stopped.
I stared at him.
"For three years, I tried to make my life small enough to fit inside your expectations. I changed my schedule. I missed my mother's birthday. I apologized when you got angry because a patient needed me late."
His expression shifted.
"That's not fair."
"Neither was coming home to find another woman wearing my sweatshirt."
Tessa looked delighted.
Nicholas looked away.
Not because he was embarrassed.
Because he was giving me the moment.
I took a breath.
"We're finished, Colin. We've been finished for twenty-three days. Stop calling me. Stop involving yourself in my personal life."
He looked at Nicholas again.
Then back at me.
"This is insane. You barely know him."
"That's true."
Colin opened his mouth.
I continued.
"But I know enough about you."
His face hardened.
"You're making a mistake."
"Maybe."
I stepped aside and opened the door.
"But it's mine to make."
For a long moment, he didn't move.
Then he left.
Tessa waited until the door closed.
Then whispered, "That was beautiful."
I sat down.
My hands were shaking.
I didn't feel victorious.
I felt exhausted.
Three years of loving someone had ended with a conversation in a hospital office.
And the man I had once planned to marry had walked away without ever understanding why.
Nicholas crouched beside my chair.
"Are you okay?"
I looked at him.
"Not particularly."
He nodded.
"Do you want me to leave?"
"No."
The word escaped before I could soften it.
He stayed.
And for a few minutes, that was enough.
An hour later, Detective Ortiz arrived with hospital security officers.
They preserved the corridor footage and reviewed the visitor's movements.
The images confirmed what Tessa had described.
The younger fake waiter entered the hospital shortly after three.
He approached the interpreter office.
Spoke with Tessa.
Then left through a side exit.
But another camera captured something more troubling.
He hadn't arrived alone.
A second man waited near the parking garage.
Dark coat.
Baseball cap.
Head lowered.
The detective enlarged a still frame.
Nicholas leaned forward.
I watched his face.
He recognized the man.
"Who is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Peter Walsh."
"Who?"
"One of Owen's security contractors."
I looked at him.
"Your own security?"
"Yes."
Detective Ortiz folded her arms.
"Mr. Valenti, how many people in your operation had access to the event plans?"
Nicholas was quiet.
"More than I thought."
The detective pointed toward the image.
"Then we need a list."
Nicholas nodded.
"You'll have it."
His phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
His expression sharpened.
"Excuse me."
He stepped into the hallway.
I couldn't hear every word.
But through the glass panel in the office door, I could see his face.
He was angry.
Frighteningly angry.
Then he returned.
"Audrey, there's been another development."
My stomach sank.
"What?"
"Owen found the silver-haired waiter."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"An abandoned service garage near the river. He's in police custody now."
Relief moved through me.
But Nicholas wasn't smiling.
"What's wrong?"
He looked toward Detective Ortiz.
Then back at me.
"The man says he knows who hired him."
I stood.
"Your uncle?"
Nicholas slowly shook his head.
"He says Vittorio Valenti never ordered the shooting."
I stared.
"Then who did?"
Nicholas's phone vibrated again.
A text.
He read it.
And something in his expression frightened me more than anger.
Because it looked like betrayal.
"The waiter claims the entire operation was ordered by someone who has worked beside my family for twenty-two years."
I whispered, "Marcus Bell?"
May you like
Nicholas nodded.
Then he added, "And he says Marcus wasn't working alone."
