Brandon's POV
Donovan.
It finally hit me.
The surname clicked into place in my mind.
I remembered Garrett saying that day at the cafe that his father was Mr. Donovan—Same Donovan, the detective on my father's case.
"Thank you," I said quickly, relief rushing through me. "That's all I needed."
"Sir—" she began, but I had already stepped back, my mind racing.
I didn't have his number yet, only his last name. But it was something. Better than nothing.
I moved toward the exit, but before I reached the door—
A voice called out.
"Excuse me?"
A deeper voice. Authoritative.Obviously male.
I turned halfway.
A middle-aged man in a dark blazer stood behind me. Security badge clipped to his pocket.
"Can I ask what department you're visiting?"
My stomach dropped.
"I—uh—Medical records," I managed to stammer, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of my words hanging in the air.
"For what purpose?" he asked, his tone sharp and skeptical.
