Stranded With The Suspect

“Ma’am, are you all right?” asked the second security guard, who was short but muscular.

She nodded, and pushed her hair out of her face. “I... I’m fine,” she managed.

“We had a report of screams and crashing,” said the second man. “Sounds of a struggle.” He surveyed the broken glass and overturned tables. “Can you tell us what happened?”

She shook her head. What exactly had happened? Had the Prophet really hit her? Had he really threatened her? The violence was so unlike him. He would never want to hurt her, would he? “He burst in here, and he was terribly upset,” she began. “He’s desperate, I think. And afraid...”

Simon stepped into the room once more, breathing hard. “He got away,” he said. “We’ll need to block all the entrances and conduct a search of the entire hotel.”

The two guards blinked at him. “We don’t have the authority to do something like that,” the first man said.

“Don’t you need a warrant or something?” the second man asked.

“Do you want to wait until he kills one of your guests before you do more than stand around twiddling your thumbs?” Simon snapped.

“I don’t really think the Prophet would kill anyone,” Andi protested.

“He could have killed you,” Simon said. His eyes met hers, searing her with their anger. He turned back toward the security guards and she started to protest, but a sharp cry out of her own mouth cut off her words.

She cradled her abdomen and tried to brace herself against the sharp pain that tore through her. As she blinked back tears, she realized the three men were staring at her. Simon was the first to reach her side. “What is it?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Just...gas or something.”

“She needs a doctor,” Simon said, helping her to the sofa.

“We have a physician on call.” The older security guard pulled out his phone and punched in some numbers.

“No. I’ll be fi—” But another sharp pain cut off the words. Andi closed her eyes. She couldn’t be going into labor. Not now. Not when so much was unsettled.

Simon took hold of her ankles and swung her feet up onto the sofa. “Lie back and close your eyes,” he said. “Breathe deeply and try to relax.” He had removed her shoes and was rubbing her feet. She ought to object, but it felt so good she couldn’t force the words past her lips.

“What about your felon?” one of the security guards asked.

“His name is Daniel Metwater,” Simon said. “Thirty-two years old. Six foot two inches, one-hundred sixty-five pounds, curly dark hair and eyes. Contact the police and alert the rest of your staff, but if you see him, don’t try to deal with him yourself. He’s dangerous and may be armed. But he has enough of a head start that he’s probably already left the hotel.”

“We’ll get someone up here to clean up this mess once the doctor is done,” one of the men said.

“It can wait until morning,” Simon said. “I don’t want any more strangers in here than necessary.”

Andi kept her eyes closed and let herself drift. Simon’s hands were warm, his fingers strong and soothing. Where had he learned to give a foot massage like that? As he dug his thumb into her aching arch, she had to bite back a moan. She may even have fallen asleep.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when someone squeezed her hand. “Hello, Ms. Daniels,” said a smooth, lightly accented voice. “I’m Dr. Johar. I understand you’ve been experiencing some discomfort.”

She opened her eyes and stared into the face of a handsome, brown-skinned man. She looked past him, searching for Simon. “Where’s Simon?” she asked.

“He’s in the hallway, talking to the local cops.” The older security guard stepped forward.

The police. They would be after Daniel. He wouldn’t stand a chance now. She struggled into a sitting position. “I’m fine now,” she said, hoping the words were true. She needed to talk to Simon, to plead with him not to be too hard on Daniel. Yes, he had hit her, but it must have been because he was out of his mind with fear. Ordinarily, he would never do anything like that.

Then Simon’s face came into view, hovering over the doctor’s left shoulder. “She had at least two moments of pain that were strong enough to make her cry out,” Simon said. “I did what I could to help her relax.”

“Are you her husband?” the doctor asked as he felt for Andi’s pulse. “Or boyfriend?”

Andi waited to see how he would answer. “No,” he said and turned away. “I’m a cop.”

“Perhaps you would like to step away and give us a little privacy,” the doctor said. “Ms. Daniels, would it be all right with you if I examined you? I want to check on your baby.”

Andi consented, and with less embarrassment and discomfort than she would have thought possible, the doctor made a thorough examination. When she was dressed and seated upright once more, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Everything looks good,” he said. “You are not yet in labor, though you are effaced two centimeters.”

Her face must have betrayed her confusion, because he added, “Your body is preparing for the upcoming delivery. The baby is shifting into position for birth and your cervix is getting thinner.”

“How long before the baby is born?” she asked.

“I take it this is your first child?”

She nodded.

“It could be a couple of weeks or a few days.”

“What was the pain?” she asked.

He glanced around the room, at the overturned tables and broken glass, at Simon standing by the window, his back to them. “The person who telephoned me said there had been an altercation. I assume the person who did this—” He nodded to indicate the mess “—is gone now?”

“Yes,” she said. Daniel was gone, though she wondered if Simon was right, and he would return.

“The pain was probably a stress reaction. A particularly sharp kick, a tension in the muscles.” The doctor shrugged. “What matters now is that you don’t worry about it, and try to get some rest.” He patted her hand. “You are young and strong and everything looks as it should be. When is your due date?”

“I’m not sure,” she said.

He raised one eyebrow, but didn’t comment, merely stood there. Simon turned toward them. “How is she?” he asked, though Andi was certain he had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

“She is fine,” the doctor said. “All she needs is rest and no stress.”

“Would you mind waiting with her here for a few minutes?” Simon asked.

“For a few moments,” the doctor agreed.

Simon left the room. The doctor looked down at Andi once more. “This cop—he is a friend of yours?”

“Not exactly,” she said. She was sure the doctor was curious, but she refused to elaborate—not that she could have found words to explain the bizarre situation in which she had suddenly found herself.

Simon returned in less than five minutes, carrying a black backpack. “Thank you,” he said to the doctor. “You can go now.”

As soon as the door shut behind the doctor, Andi sat up. “What happened to the Prophet?” she asked.

“He got away,” Simon said. “But the Denver police are looking for him. And hotel security will be watching for him.”

“When you find him, promise you won’t hurt him,” she said.