Grey (49 page)
Authors: E L James
“The heat's that bad?”
“Suffocating. I've got to go. I'll call for an update later.”
“Safe travels, Christian.”
ON THE FLIGHT I
throw myself into work to distract me from the problem waiting at home. By the time we've touched down I've read three reports and written fifteen e-mails. Our car is waiting, and Taylor drives through the pouring rain straight to Seattle Free Hope. I have to see Leila and find out what the hell is going on. As we near the hospital my anger surfaces.
Why would she do this to me?
The rain is lashing down as I climb out of the car; the day is as bleak as my mood. I take a deep breath to control my fury and head through the front doors. At the reception desk I ask for Leila Reed.
“Are you family?” The nurse on duty glowers at me, her mouth pinched and sour.
“No.” I sigh. This is going to be difficult.
“Well, I'm sorry, I can't help you.”
“She tried to open a vein in my apartment. I think I'm entitled to know where the hell she is,” I hiss through my teeth.
“Don't take that tone with me!” she snaps. I glare at her. I'm not going to get anywhere with this woman.
“Where is your ER department?”
“Sir, there's nothing we can do if you're not family.”
“Don't worry, I'll find it myself,” I growl, and storm over to the double doors. I know I could call my mother, who would expedite this for me, but then I'd have to explain what's happened.
The ER is bustling with doctors and nurses, and triage is full of patients. I accost a young nurse and give her my brightest smile. “Hello, I'm looking for Leila Reedâshe was admitted earlier today. Can you tell me where she might be?”
“And you are?” she asks, a flush creeping over her face.
“I'm her brother,” I lie smoothly, ignoring her reaction.
“This way, Mr. Reed.” She bustles over to the nurses' station and checks her computer. “She's on the second floor; Behavioral Health ward. Take the elevators at the end of the corridor.”
“Thanks.” I reward her with a wink and she pushes a stray lock behind her ear, giving me a flirtatious smile that reminds me of a certain girl I left in Georgia.
As I step out of the elevator on the second floor I know something is wrong. On the other side of what look like locked doors, two security guards and a nurse are combing the corridor, checking each room. My scalp prickles, but I walk over to the reception area, pretending not to notice the commotion.
“Can I help you?” asks a young man with a ring through his nose.
“I'm looking for Leila Reed. I'm her brother.”
He pales. “Oh. Mr. Reed. Can you come with me?”
I follow him to a waiting room and sit down on the plastic chair that he points to; I note it's bolted to the floor. “The doctor will be with you shortly.”
“Why can't I see her?” I ask.
“The doctor will explain,” he says, his expression guarded, and he exits before I can ask any further questions.
Shit.
Perhaps I'm too late.
The thought nauseates me. I get up and pace the small room, contemplating a call to Gail, but I don't have to wait long. A young man with short dreads and dark, intelligent eyes enters. Is he her doctor?
“Mr. Reed?” he asks.
“Where's Leila?”
He assesses me for a moment, then sighs and steels himself. “I'm afraid I don't know,” he says. “She's managed to give us the slip.”
“What?”
“She's gone. How she got out I don't know.”
“Got out?” I exclaim in disbelief, and sink onto one of the chairs. He sits down opposite me.
“Yes. She's disappeared. We're doing a search for her now.”
“She's still here?”
“We don't know.”
“And who are you?” I ask.
“I'm Dr. Azikiwe, the on-call psychiatrist.”
He looks too young to be a psychiatrist. “What can you tell me about Leila?” I ask.
“Well, she was admitted after a failed suicide attempt. She tried to slash one of her wrists at an ex-boyfriend's house. His housekeeper brought her here.”
I feel the blood draining from my face. “And?” I ask. I need more information.
“That's about as much as we know. She said it was an error of judgment, that she was fine, but we wanted to keep her here under observation and ask her further questions.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“I did.”
“Why did she do this?”
“She said it was a cry for help. Nothing more. And, having made such a spectacle of herself, she was embarrassed and wanted to go home. She said she didn't want to kill herself. I believed her. I suspect it was just suicidal ideation on her part.”
“How could you let her escape?” I run my hand through my hair, trying to contain my frustration.
“I don't know how she's gotten away. There'll be an internal investigation. If she contacts you, I suggest you urge her to come back. She needs help. Can I ask you some questions?”
“Sure,” I agree, distracted.
“Is there any history of mental illness in your family?” I frown, then remember that he's talking about Leila's family.
“I don't know. My family is very private about such matters.”
He looks concerned. “Do you know anything about this ex-boyfriend?”
“No,” I state, a little too quickly. “Have you contacted her husband?”
The doctor's eyes widen. “She's married?”
“Yes.”
“That's not what she told us.”
“Oh. Well, I'll call him. I won't waste any more of your time.”
“But I have more questions for youâ”
“I'd rather spend my time looking for her. She's obviously in a bad way.” I rise.
“But, this husbandâ”
“I'll get in touch with him.” This is getting me nowhere.
“But we should do thatâ” Dr. Azikiwe stands.
“I can't help you. I need to find her.” I head to the door.
“Mr. Reedâ”
“Good-bye,” I mutter, hurrying out of the waiting room and not bothering with the elevator. I take the fire escape stairs two at a time. I loathe hospitals. A memory from my childhood surfaces: I'm small and scared and mute, and the smell of disinfectant and blood clouds my nostrils.
I shudder.
As I step out of the hospital I stand for a moment and let the torrential rain wash that memory away. It's been a stressful afternoon, but at least the rain is a refreshing relief from the heat in Savannah. Taylor swings around to pick me up in the SUV.
“Home,” I direct him, as I get back in the car. Once I've buckled my seatbelt I call Welch from my cell.
“Mr. Grey,” he growls.
“Welch, I have a problem. I need you to locate Leila Reed, née Williams.”
GAIL IS PALE AND
quiet as she studies me with concern. “You're not going to finish, sir?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Was the food okay?”
“Yes, of course.” I give her a small smile. “After today's events, I'm not hungry. How are you bearing up?”
“I'm good, Mr. Grey. It was a total shock. I just want to keep busy.”
“I hear you. Thanks for making dinner. If you remember anything, let me know.”
“Of course. But like I said, she only wanted to speak to you.”
Why?
What is she expecting me to do?
“Thanks for not involving the police.”
“The police are not what that girl needs. She needs help.”
“She does. I wish I knew where she was.”
“You'll find her,” she says with quiet confidence, surprising me.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
“No, Mr. Grey. I'm fine.” She takes the plate with my half-eaten meal to the sink.
The news from Welch about Leila is frustrating. The trail has gone cold. She's not at the hospital, and they're still mystified as to how she escaped. A small part of me admires that; she was always resourceful. But what could have made her so unhappy? I rest my head in my hands. What a dayâfrom the sublime to the ridiculous. Soaring with Ana, and now this mess to deal with. Taylor is at a loss as to how Leila got into the apartment, and Gail has no idea, either. Apparently, Leila marched into the kitchen demanding to know where I was. And when Gail said I wasn't there, she cried out “He's gone,” then slashed her wrist with a box cutter. Fortunately, the cut wasn't deep.
I glance at Gail cleaning up in the kitchen. My blood runs cold. Leila could have hurt her. Perhaps Leila's objective was to hurt me.
But why?
I scrunch my eyes, trying to remember if anything in our last correspondence might give me a clue as to why she's gone off the rails. I draw a blank, exasperated, and with a sigh I head into my study.
As I sit down my phone buzzes with a text.
Ana?
It's Elliot.
Hey Hotshot. Wanna shoot some pool?
Shooting pool with Elliot means him coming here and drinking all my beer. Frankly, I'm not in the mood.
Working. Next week?
Sure. Before I hit the beach.
I'll thrash you.
Laters.
I toss my phone onto the desk and pore over Leila's file, looking for anything that might give me a clue as to where she is. I find her parents' address and phone number, but nothing for her husband. Where is he? Why isn't she with him?
I don't want to call her parents and alarm them. I call Welch and give him their number; he can find out if she's been in touch with them.
When I switch on my iMac there's an e-mail from Ana.
From:
Anastasia Steele
Subject:
Safe Arrival?
Date:
June 2 2011 22:32 EST
To:
Christian Grey
Dear Sir,
Please let me know that you have arrived safely. I am starting to worry. Thinking of you.
Your Ana x
Before I know it, my finger is on the little kiss she's sent me.
Ana.
Sappy, Grey. Sappy. Get a grip.
From:
Christian Grey
Subject:
Sorry
Date:
June 2 2011 19:36
To:
Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I have arrived safely, and please accept my apologies for not letting you know. I don't want to cause you any worry. It's heartwarming to know that you care for me. I am thinking of you, too, and as ever looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I press send and wish that she was here with me. She brightens up my home, my lifeâ¦me. I shake my head at my fanciful thoughts and look through the rest of my e-mails.
A ping tells me there's a new one from Ana.
From:
Anastasia Steele
Subject:
The Situation
Date:
June 2 2011 22:40 EST
To:
Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey,
I think it is very evident that I care for you deeply. How could you doubt that?
I hope your “situation” is under control.
Your Ana x
P.S.: Are you going to tell me what I said in my sleep?
She cares for me deeply? That's nice. All at once that foreign feeling, absent all day, stirs and expands in my chest. Beneath it is a well of pain I don't want to acknowledge or deal with. It tugs at a lost memory of a young woman brushing out her long, dark hairâ¦
Fuck.
Don't go there, Grey.
I respond to Ana's e-mailâand as a distraction decide to tease her.
From:
Christian Grey
Subject:
Pleading the Fifth
Date:
June 2 2011 19:45
To:
Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I like very much that you care for me. The “situation” here is not yet resolved.
With regard to your P.S., the answer is no.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
From:
Anastasia Steele
Subject:
Pleading Insanity
Date:
June 2 2011 22:48 EST
To:
Christian Grey
I hope it was amusing. But you should know I cannot accept any responsibility for what comes out of my mouth when I am unconscious. In factâyou probably misheard me.
A man of your advanced years is surely a little deaf.
For the first time since I got back to Seattle, I laugh. What a welcome distraction she is.
From:
Christian Grey
Subject:
Pleading Guilty
Date:
June 2 2011 19:52
To:
Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
Sorry, could you speak up? I can't hear you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
Her response is swift.
From:
Anastasia Steele
Subject:
Pleading Insanity Again
Date:
June 2 2011 22:54 EST
To:
Christian Grey
You are driving me crazy.
From:
Christian Grey
Subject:
I Hope Soâ¦
Date:
June 2 2011 19:59
To:
Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele,
I intend to do exactly that on Friday evening. Looking forward to it.
;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.
I'll have to think of something extra-special for my little freak.
From:
Anastasia Steele
Subject:
Grrrrrr
Date:
June 2 2011 23:02 EST
To:
Christian Grey
I am officially pissed at you.