She pointed to a set of double doors. When Morgan and Lance approached, the doors swung open. Gurneys were lined up in curtained-off bays like cars in an auto shop.

Morgan spotted number seven and hurried over. Mac sat on a folding chair, but the bay was empty. Morgan’s stomach turned over. “Where is she?”

Mac stood. “They took her for some tests. She’ll be back soon.”

“How bad is she?” Morgan gave him a quick hug.

Mac frowned. “She spiked a fever this afternoon, and your grandfather didn’t like the way she looked.”

“He has good judgment.” Morgan checked the hallway. No Gianna yet.

“The doctor thinks her dialysis graft could be infected.” Mac swept a hand through his shaggy surfer hair. A biology professor at the local university, he spent a good deal of time outdoors and volunteered with search and rescue. He was perpetually tan.

Lance shook Mac’s hand. “Thanks for bringing her.”

“I’m glad to help.” Mac gestured toward the chair. “Why don’t you sit down, Morgan? You look tired.”

She shook her head and paced. “I assumed she’d caught a cold. I should never assume anything with Gianna. She’s been so normal, sometimes I forget how sick she is.”

“They didn’t rush her into ICU or anything,” Mac said. “The doctor isn’t panicking, so relax.”

But Morgan worried. Before Gianna had come to live with her, no one had cared about the girl. Her mother had been a prostitute who had started her daughter hooking at age thirteen. Gianna’s mother was currently in jail for cooking meth. The girl had never had a father in her life. Coming to live with Morgan was the first break Gianna had ever received.

The squeak of wheels caught Morgan’s attention. An orderly was pushing a gurney down the hall. On it, Gianna huddled under a white thermal blanket. Morgan moved aside as the orderly turned the gurney into the bay.

Gianna was pale, with a feverish splotch of ruddy color on each cheek. Morgan used the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall, went to the bedside, and touched her forehead. Her skin was warm.

“I’m all right,” Gianna said in a weak voice.

“Do you need anything right now?” the orderly asked.

Gianna shook her head.

“OK then. The doctor will be in soon.” The orderly closed the curtain and left.

Morgan squeezed Gianna’s fingers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home.”

“You can’t be everywhere.” Gianna pulled herself a few inches up on the gurney.

“We should have gone to the doctor yesterday,” Morgan said.

Gianna lifted her arm and frowned at it. The dialysis access site was normally a hard lump under the skin, but today it was swollen and red. “My arm didn’t look like this yesterday, and I didn’t have a fever. There was no reason to think it was anything serious.”

“Hello?” The curtain swished aside, and a doctor in blue scrubs walked in. He introduced himself. “As I suspected when she first came in, her dialysis access is infected. We’re going to schedule her for surgery to remove the infected graft. We’re also putting her on IV antibiotics.”

“How will she get dialysis without a graft?” Morgan asked.

He shone a penlight into Gianna’s eyes. “We’ll use a central venous catheter until the infection is cleared, and then the surgeon can decide where to place a new graft.”

She’d need at least three surgeries just to get back to where she’d been before this weekend, and she’d have to live with a temporary catheter poking out of her chest for the next month or two. Gianna would never complain, but this had to be disappointing.

The doctor checked Gianna’s vital signs. “Unfortunately, this is not uncommon.” He patted Gianna’s foot. “Are you OK?”

Gianna nodded.

“Do you have any questions?” he asked.

“No.” She shook her head.

He checked her chart. “Your fever is down a few degrees. Did the acetaminophen also help the pain or do you need something stronger?”

She’d been in pain? She hadn’t said a word.

Gianna shook her head vigorously. “I don’t want anything stronger.”

The doctor’s brows rose.

“I was a heroin addict,” Gianna said without blinking. “I’ve been clean for over two years. I won’t take any risks. I’m on the transplant list. I won’t do anything to hurt my chances of getting a new kidney.”

“Good to know.” The doctor opened a laptop on a wall-mounted shelf and typed. “I’ll make a note. But if you are in pain, there are other options. You don’t have to suffer.”

Gianna nodded. “I’m OK for now.”

He closed the laptop. “Then you hang tight until they find you a bed. No food or water. The surgeon wants to get that graft out tonight.”

The doctor left. A few minutes later, a nurse came in and shooed everyone out of the room. “Give us ten minutes.”

Morgan, Lance, and Mac withdrew to the waiting room.

“Where is she on the transplant list?” Mac asked.

“It’s hard to say.” Over the past year, Morgan had helped Gianna with her transplant application process and had become a minor expert in all things related to kidney failure. “Gianna has been on dialysis for a little over two years. The average wait for a kidney from a deceased donor is three to five years, at minimum.”

“Shit,” Mac said.

“Exactly.” Morgan turned to Lance. “Are you going back to get Sharp?”

“I should. After the car is recovered, there’s only so long he’ll wait for Stella before he goes off on his own,” Lance said. “I don’t trust him to be careful. But the kids are a handful for your grandfather.”

“I’ll take care of the kids,” Mac offered. “Stella won’t be home anyway. She’ll be working all night. The kids will be great company.”

“Thank you, Mac.” Morgan kissed him on the cheek.

“Hey, family is family,” he said. “Tell Gianna I’ll see her tomorrow. I’ll grab a pizza for the kids.”

Morgan thanked Mac again, and he walked away.

“Are you staying here?” Lance wrapped his arms around Morgan.

Morgan nodded, slipped her hands around his waist, and pressed the side of her face against his chest. “I’ll stay with Gianna until she’s out of surgery.”

“Do you want me to get you anything from home?” Lance kissed the top of her head.

“No.” She leaned back and patted her tote bag. “I have a toothbrush and change for the vending machine. That’s all I need.”

Sleeping in her clothes was going to start feeling normal.

His blue eyes were concerned. “I don’t like splitting up, but there are only two of us.”

“Thank goodness for Mac and Stella.” Morgan pulled her hands free, then settled them on his broad chest. “I’ll be fine here.”

Lance held on, hooking his hands together behind her back. “What about Peyton and Ian? Could either one of them help out?”

Morgan’s older brother was NYPD SWAT. Her younger sister was a forensic psychiatrist in California. “I’ll give them both a call, but they have careers. They can’t just drop everything to watch my kids. Besides, they both requested their vacation days to come for the wedding.” Morgan paused. “Speaking of the wedding, maybe we should think about postponing it.”