Davis watched her go upstairs, his shoulders sagging with relief. He rubbed his brow. He had walked over to her just in hope of stopping her from getting a glimpse of the document.
The situation last night had gone beyond his expectations. By the time he returned from the club last night, Jessica was already a disheveled mess.
She was sitting upright on the bed, her head tightly clasped in her hands, her body riddled with sweat, some strands of her hair falling across her face, sticking to her forehead, her eyes hollow and unfocused.
She was a mess.
Davis's heart stopped, he couldn't help imagining the worst-case scenario. From his discussion with Richard, he couldn't rule out the idea of Jessica trying to trigger her memory herself.
To minimize the damage, he had called over the Dean, who came and administered her with sedatives to calm her nerves and reduce the stress on her brain.
