Nocturne in Black and Gold

Chapter 15: Time

By the time El arrived at the hospital, Neal was pacing the room in anticipation. Peter wasn't sure if his need to escape was elevated from his ordeal or if this was simply a reflection of his usual loathing for hospitals. Neal wasn't an invalid. There was nothing physically wrong with him. Peter hoped that rejoining the world would help his subconscious realize that.

He'd texted El earlier, and she came prepared with a wheelchair, claiming that the hospital mandated its use. Neal grumbled but accepted the restriction. He probably realized that navigating the hospital corridors without assistance would have been beyond his capability. Peter suspected he would have even agreed to be transported out on a gurney as long as he could leave.

Neal didn't say much on the drive to the hotel. He answered El's questions politely but evasively. To fill in the awkward gaps, Peter rehashed the search through the aquariums for El's benefit. They chalked up Neal's mood to exhaustion and didn't press.

When they arrived at the hotel, Aidan, Keiko, Travis, and Richard were there to greet him. His walk was a little tentative, but Peter was pleased to see there was no limp. If anyone didn't know better, they'd think he was simply tired. Peter found himself hovering a foot or so away and tried not to make it noticeable. The others had been warned not to mention the supposed injury.

When they got upstairs, Neal went immediately to his room. They'd given him the master bedroom with the soaking tub, and he said he'd indulge in it before going to bed. Peter was reassured that there was no outside deck. He was half a mind to sleep in the living room to guard the door. Travis had installed a security camera in the hallway outside the entrance. The front door of the suite already had an electronic keypad. The additional security was another reason he hadn't objected to Scima renting it for them.

He stayed up to email an update to the team. It was already morning in France—late enough to call Marcel Jauffret in Paris. Marcel was the French representative on the Interpol art crimes task force. Peter and Neal had developed a good working relationship with him during their time in Paris last month. The connections they'd made during that trip were now invaluable.

He continued to be haunted by the Vermeer painting Neal had been accused of stealing. Marcel promised to check on its status and call in a report later that day. If a theft had occurred, Marcel agreed to keep it a secret until he'd discussed it first.

El stretched out on the couch and read a novel while he worked. They were both monitoring Neal's room for any sounds of distress but didn't hear anything. He couldn't fault Neal for declining the sleeping pill the hospital had provided. After what he'd experienced, it was understandable he didn't want any more drugs. But could he sleep?

The sun was beginning to rise over the skyscrapers of Los Angeles when Peter awoke. El was still fast asleep. He slid out of bed and padded out of the room in bare feet, closing the bedroom door quietly behind him. 

Scima had booked them into the Presidential Suite of the Kimpton Hotel Palomar, an indication of how concerned they were. The suite consisted of two bedrooms with separate baths, a living room, and a kitchenette. The living room came with a large sectional sofa and ottomans, wall-mounted TV, and panoramic views of the city. He would have been uncomfortable at the extravagance under normal circumstances, but that was hardly the case now. And as a practical matter, the layout allowed him to keep a careful watch on Neal.

He started the coffee and then went over to the floor-to-ceiling windows to gaze out at the L.A. skyline. Still no sounds coming from Neal's room. While waiting for the coffee to brew, he started on his list of phone calls. He'd moved on to emails and was well into his second cup before anyone joined him.

A sleepy-eyed El opened the bedroom door a little after seven. "When did you get up?" she asked.

"A while ago," he admitted. "Couldn't sleep. I spoke with Tricia. She'd texted me during the night to give her a call."