“That’s her. It has to be.”
The receptionist hesitated. “The patient suffered a seizure yesterday. She’s stable, but she isn’t in good condition to receive visitors.”
“She already has two people with her.”
“I’m her daughter.”
“She already has two people with her.”
The couple.
Every terrible possibility struck me at once. They had taken my mother’s ring. Perhaps they had followed her here. Perhaps they were beside her bed right now, frightening her or pressuring her to reveal something she could no longer remember.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “Those people may have hurt her.”
I couldn’t finish.
The receptionist glanced toward the security desk.
“Please,” I begged, lowering my voice. “Just let me see her. If she isn’t my mother, I’ll leave. But if she is…”
I couldn’t finish.
After a long moment, the receptionist picked up the phone and spoke quietly to someone upstairs. Then she printed a visitor badge and slid it toward me.
“Third floor. Room 318. A nurse will meet you there.”
“She may not recognize you.”
I grabbed the badge.
“And miss?” she called as I turned away. “Prepare yourself. She may not recognize you.”
The elevator seemed to take forever.
