Phil waited for Poppy or Violet to say something, but neither spoke.
He took a deep breath. “I’m not a killer . . .” Then, after thinking about it, “At least not anymore. I used to be a Green Beret, and that kind of came with the job.”
Violet shuddered.
Phil softened, took another small step toward her. “Violet, for what it’s worth, I hated dropping contact with you. It’s the worst part of this job. To be honest, I found you utterly charming and fun to be with during our brief time together. And if circumstances were different—”
Violet shot a hand up to stop him.
She didn’t want to hear anymore.
She turned on her heel and fled the bathroom.
“You can tell your boss Claire St. Clair will be taking her business elsewhere,” Poppy sniffed before turning and chasing after her friend.
As the door closed behind her, she overheard Phil say to himself, “Who?”
Chapter 41
Poppy could not help but feel a bit garish in her bright pink suit that she had worn to play the part of Claire St. Clair as she burst through the doors of Bear Valley Community Hospital in Big Bear, California. When she, Matt, and Violet had decided to trek to Los Angeles to look into Cobra Security Force International, Poppy had insisted they take two cars since she had received word from a nurse that Sam would be discharged later in the afternoon once his doctor officially signed off.
Sending Matt and Violet back to the desert in his rental, Poppy had zipped up the winding roads to the top of Big Bear Mountain and arrived just before six in the evening. Clicking down the hallway in her heels, she stopped at a nurses’ station and asked where she could find Sam Emerson. A distracted male nurse, manning two phone calls at the same time and an impatient doctor waiting on some paperwork, gestured toward Sam’s room down the hall. Poppy thanked him, and marched down to the open door where Sam, fully dressed, sitting in a wheelchair by the bed, was arguing with a short, stout, stern-looking nurse in blue scrubs who appeared to not appreciate Sam’s aggravated tone.
“Look, I feel fine,” Sam said gruffly. “What’s so bad about calling a taxi to drive me home?”
“Because it’s against hospital policy as I have already explained to you, three times, Mr. Emerson. You need to be driven by a friend or family member, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” Sam spat out. “What if I just say the cab driver’s an old army buddy?”
The irked nurse vigorously shook her head. “That won’t work.”
“Why not?” Sam sighed.
“Because now I know you’d be lying. Am I going to have to call the doctor, who is a very busy man, and have him come here just so he can talk some sense into you?”
Poppy stepped into the room. “There’s no need for that. The friend or family member has finally arrived.”
Sam and the nurse turned to Poppy, both surprised by the shiny pink suit she was wearing. There was a silence as they both took the whole look in.
“I know, I know, I look like a walking stick of bubble gum,” Poppy sighed.
“I was going to say you look beautiful,” Sam said with a sly grin.
“Hallelujah! The man finally said something nice,” the nurse cracked. “I was beginning to wonder if he was even capable!”
Sam shot her an annoyed look. “Don’t start with me, Nurse Ratched.”
“He can get a little irritable and depressed when he feels confined and trapped,” Poppy explained. “He’s like a wild horse that needs to run free. I’m sorry if he’s given you any trouble.”
“Oh, we’ve kept him in line as best we can,” the nurse said.
“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here!” Sam barked, gripping the sides of the wheelchair and starting to struggle to his feet.
The nurse grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him back down. “Oh, no you don’t. Until the doctor says you can go, you’re not getting out of that chair.”
“I feel like Papillon on Devil’s Island. There is no escape!” Sam bellowed.
The nurse, who was probably in her early thirties, gave him a quizzical look. “That must be one of those old man references.”
“You really are working my last nerve, lady,” Sam seethed.
“Good, it’ll keep your blood pumping and your heart rate up,” the nurse said before turning to Poppy. “Let me call the doctor, and then, if there is a God, you can finally take him off our hands.” She turned back to face Sam and patted him on top of the head. “Sit tight, Mr. Emerson.”
Sam swatted the nurse’s hand away from his head. She chuckled and ambled out of the room.
Poppy folded her arms and tried not to crack a smile. “Sounds like you’ve been a naughty boy.”
“Well, if they’re going to treat me like a child, then I’m going to act like one. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve been here long enough. I hate hospitals.”
Poppy had never seen Sam so anxious and uncomfortable, but she was not going to allow him to run roughshod over the dedicated and hardworking nursing staff. “No, you do as the nurse says. They’ve done a remarkable job. You look a thousand times healthier than when I saw you last.”
Sam grumbled something unintelligible, which Poppy ignored. She sat down on the bed to wait for the nurse to return. Sam rattled on about all the things he needed to do like chop wood for his fire, replace a cracked window pane on the cabin, fix the broken starter motor on his car. Poppy just nodded politely and let him go on.
When the nurse returned, she did not look happy. “I’m afraid the doctor wants to keep you one more night.”
Sam nearly jumped out of his wheelchair. “What?”
The nurse grinned. “Just kidding. You’re good to go.”
“You nearly gave me another heart attack!” Sam snapped.
“Please, nobody wants that. We’re
