Love Beyond Words (City Lights, #1)(83)
“Cogerme,” he swore and then jumped as his phone rang. His heart hammered in his chest but it wasn’t Natalie. The number was unfamiliar. “Hello?”
“Julian Kova??”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Kova?, I’m so glad to have you on the line. Relieved, actually. This is Dr. Cannon from SF General. I was your treating physician two weeks ago when you were admitted for severe dehydration. I’ve been attempting to contact you for several days now.”
“What about?”
The gate opened and a put-together woman with a blonde chignon and crisp uniform was looking over a passenger manifest.
“Firstly to apologize, Mr. Kova?. We strive to provide the most professional level of care but our lab staff was temporarily reduced—by the flu, coincidentally enough—and the results of your blood work were delayed. Additionally, it would seem that your admission forms were incorrect, making it very difficult to contact you. But we now have the lab results…”
Julian felt a vague disquiet unravel in gut. “And?”
“Well, Mr. Kova?, given your symptoms and what your friend Mr. Thompson had told us about your illness’s progression, you were treated and released as a flu patient when, in fact, you were not.”
“I was not.”
“We found no evidence of any flu strain. We did find, however, a marked increase in emetine levels in your blood work.”
The blonde with the chignon put an intercom to her mouth and in a clipped German accent requested the first and business class passengers to please begin boarding.
Julian stood up and trundled his bag toward the gate to stand in a short line behind a man in a herringbone suit. “What does that mean?”
“High levels of emetine, as well as an abnormal EKG—which you had— can point to ipecac toxicity. Are you familiar with ipecac syrup?”
“It induces vomiting, doesn’t it?”
The herringbone gave him a pinched glance over his shoulder.
“Yes. It triggers severe vomiting, much like what you had experienced. We see this in bulimic patients who take it to purge, and we administer it ourselves to drug overdose victims or those who have swallowed poisonous material. But you are neither a bulimic nor a drug addict—so far as the rest of your blood work indicated—and the severe nature of your dehydration is consistent with an intense consumption of ipecac syrup—and diuretics as well—over the course of twenty-four hours.”
Julian froze at the front of the line. The woman asked for his boarding pass.
“And since you were quickly too incapacitated to ingest the syrup on your own for that long…Well, frankly I got a little nervous and thought I’d check on you personally.”
“Your boarding pass, sir?” The blonde woman held out her hand. Julian stared at the woman and she pursed her lips in faint disapproval.
Over the phone, Dr. Cannon cleared her throat. “Mr. Kova?, do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes, doctor. Thank you. Thank you very much.” Julian hung up. David…what have you done?
“Sir, I must insist on your boarding pass.”
Julian snapped to like a man waking suddenly from a doze. “What? No…Sorry.” He stepped out of the line and, heart hammering, found Natalie’s cell number on his contacts and pushed it. It went immediately to voice mail that meant hers was out of battery life or turned off. He called the café. The girl who answered said Natalie called in sick. He called her home phone. No answer but for the answering machine. He hung up, called again. No answer. Julian started to walk through the terminal, calling, getting her machine, hanging up.
He walked faster and faster. The fifth time her machine picked up, Julian tossed the phone in his bag and ran.
#
Natalie stepped out of her shower and hurriedly dried off and dressed. But instead of going out, she paced her small living area, fighting the urge to run out the door. The waiting was terrible. Liberty and Marshall were bravely staking out Julian’s complex and here she sat doing nothing. Three days of nothing. She’d called in sick to work and going to school was out of the question. Impossible to sit in class and pretend everything was perfectly normal while Julian was living with a madman. But Liberty and Marshall had so far reported no sign of either him or David. The terrible fear that David had snapped and killed he and Julian both took hold in her mind and would not let go. What can I do? If David sees me…
The intercom buzzed, making her jump. She peeked out of her window that overlooked the street in front of Niko’s. A huge white Cadillac Escalade was parked on the street, adjacent to Niko’s. She went to the intercom at her door.
“Yes?”
“Yeah, this is Carl. From the service.”
“What service?”
“Is this a Miss…Natalie Hewitt?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been instructed by a Mr. Julian Kova? to pick you up.”
Natalie’s heart leapt to her throat. “Julian sent you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She sagged against the wall with relief. “But…why didn’t he call me to tell me?”
“I can’t answer that, ma’am. I have my instructions. I’m to take you somewhere safe. He also said to tell you that he knows all about David, and the truth about the other night and that…” Carl cleared his throat. “And that he loves you…uh, ma’am.”