[Georgia 03] Fallen

did Evelyn tell you?”
    He lengthened his strides, trying to lose her, or at least make her have to work for it. “The truth, I hope.”
    “I’m sure it was buried in there somewhere.”
    Will hated that she could so easily sow doubt in his mind. Evelyn Mitchell was Amanda’s best friend, but the two women were nothing alike. Evelyn didn’t play games. She didn’t take pleasure in humiliating people. “I think she told me what I needed to know.” He punched the down button on the elevator. He couldn’t resist. “She said that you were proud of me.”
    Amanda laughed. “Well, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”
    “No.” A thought occurred to Will. Maybe Evelyn had been dancing around the truth after all. Had she secretly given him a clue? Will felt a wave of nausea come over him.
    You’re like a son to her. In more ways than you know .
    He turned to Amanda, preparing himself for the worst day of his life. “Are you going to tell me that you’re really my mother?”
    Her laugh echoed down the hallway. She braced her hand against the wall so she wouldn’t fall over.
    “All right.” He punched the button for the elevator again. And again. And then a third time. “I get it. Very funny.”
    She wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, Will, do you really think a child of mine would turn out to be a man like you?”
    “You know what?” He bent down so that he could look her in the eye. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, and you can’t stop me.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    He walked toward the emergency stairwell. “Thank you, Amanda, for saying such a nice thing to me.”
    “Come back here.”
    He pushed open the door. “I will treasure it forever.”
    “Don’t you dare walk away from me.”
    Will did just that, taking the steps two at a time, safe in the knowledge that her little feet could not keep up with him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
     
    S ARA TOOK OFF HER READING GLASSES AND RUBBED HER EYES . She had been sitting at the table in the doctors’ lounge for at least two hours. The patient’s chart on the tablet in front of her was starting to blur. She had slept a total of six hours in the last four days. Her level of exhaustion was reminiscent of her residency, when she’d slept on a cot in the broom closet behind the nurses’ station. The cot was still there. Grady had undergone a billion-dollar renovation since the last time Sara worked in the emergency department, but no hospital had ever wasted money on making residents’ lives easier.
    Nan, the student nurse, was on the couch again. She had a half-empty box of cookies on one side of her and a bag of potato chips on the other. Her thumbs were barely visible as they furiously tapped on her iPhone. She giggled every few minutes as, presumably, a new email came in. Sara wondered if it was possible that the girl was getting younger before her eyes. Her only consolation was that in a few years, the junk food Nan loved so much would start to matter.
    “What’s up?” Nan asked, dropping the phone. “You cool?”
    “I’m cool.” Sara was oddly relieved that the girl was talking to her again. Nan had been pouting since she’d realized that Sara was not going to share the juicy details of her part in the hospital shooting.
    The girl stood, brushing crumbs off her scrubs. “You want lunch? I think Krakauer was gonna order from the Hut.”
    “Thanks for asking, but I’ve got plans.” Sara looked at her watch. Will was supposed to take her to lunch. It would be their first date, which said a lot about the way Sara’s life was going lately considering Will was the reason she wasn’t getting any sleep.
    “Later.” Nan didn’t so much push open the door as throw her body against it.
    Sara took a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet in the lounge. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She’d accidentally left her glasses in her car this morning and had to hike back up the stairs in the parking deck to fetch them. That was when she’d found the note stuck under her windshield wiper. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the first time someone had left the word cunt on Sara’s car. She supposed she should be grateful that this time it wasn’t keyed into the paint.
    Sara didn’t have to consult a handwriting expert to know that the message was from Angie Trent. There had been another note left on Sara’s car yesterday morning, though this time the greeting had been waiting for her when she left her