by Beth Solheim
"That's enough, ladies," Jed warned. "Little ears are wide open."
Sadie retreated to her chair, set her jaw, and stared at Jane.
"Just because I'm what?" Jane's look of irritation mirrored Sadie's.
"Tut. Tut. Tut," Sadie said. "Little ears."
"I suppose you went through his billfold like a nosey Nellie." Jane's head wagged in a know-it-all accusation
"You bet I did. It was on my pillow, wasn't it?"
Jane sat forward. "Did he have anything interesting in it, like money?"
"None. Not a stinking dollar bill."
"Nothing? How about a driver's license? How about photos?"
Sadie glanced at Aanders. "Just a couple pieces of paper. I saw a business card from Dan Avery and a list."
"A list of what?"
"The paper was so crumpled I had a hard time reading it. I saw three things on the list. If I read it right, one of the items was a short-handled shovel."
"A short-handled shovel? How do you stoop over and dig with one of those?" Jane's nose tweaked with confusion. "That's how you get a bad back. What else did you see?"
"Plastic bags and a crow bar."
"Lon mentioned Dan Avery hired Clay to do a job," Sadie said. "Maybe the list is tools for the job."
Aanders glanced toward the mortuary as a door slammed in the distance. "There's Mom. I think she's looking for me. I better go."
Jed shook his head. "It's like Grand Central in here. All the years I've known you, Sadie, I never realized your life to be so interesting. You've got people coming and going all the time. If people only understood what you deal with, they'd never call you crazy again. I'm going to miss you." Jed set Sally on the floor and she ran toward the inner room.
"I'm going to miss you too," Sadie said.
"I think I'll hang around the intensive care unit tomorrow in case the guy dies. I've decided to go back through the light and I'm taking Sally with me."
"I wish you'd rethink your options."
"No. I've made my declaration. Maybe it's you who needs to open up to another possibility."
"Like what?"
"Like when Sally's father comes back to Pinecone Landing, you'll find a way to tell him she's loved and taken care of. He needs to know. I believe deep in your heart you know I'll do a good job."
"I don't doubt it for a minute. With your compassion, why can't you go to the parallel world and create a better life for the crossers?"
"Because I don't want to. I want to find Celeste. I'm willing to take the chance she already crossed over."
"Then you better remember whoever steps into the tunnel of light first, determines the final destination."
"I know. You already told me."
"If Sally steps into the light before you do," Sadie explained, "she determines where you go. If she has no preconceived declaration, and you know that's exactly what she's got, you'll both end up nowhere."
"Then I'll lead the way. It's time to find Celeste and take care of Sally."
Aanders placed his nose against the screen door. He signaled to Sadie and whispered, "Mom's purse is missing. Will you check in the inner room and see if Sally took it."
As Jed and Sadie both crossed the floor to the inner room, Sadie said, "What does it look like?"
"Black leather."
"Sally? Have you seen a black purse anywhere?"
"No." Sally hopped up on to her bed and crossed her hands over her lap.
"Then what do you call that?" Jed pointed to a black leather purse tipped on its side on the floor.
"A purse."
Sadie lifted the purse off the floor. "We need to get this back to Nan."
"Noooo," Sally wailed. "I want it."
"It's not yours. It's not nice to take people's things without asking. You don't want to make Nan feel bad, do you?"
Sally evaded Jed's question and reached for the purse.
"Here it is, Aanders." Sadie handed it to him.
"I want to get my stuff out." Sally's tears began to flow.
"What stuff?" Sadie pulled the purse back as Aanders stretched a hand to grab it.
"Just stuff." Sally lowered her head.
"What stuff?" Sadie lifted the leather flap. "Show me."
"That." Sally pointed to a wadded tissue. "That's mine."
"What is it?"
"Nothing." Sally took the wad from Sadie's hand.
"Oh no you don't." Sadie followed Sally into the kitchen. "Show us what you've got."
Sally placed the tissue on the kitchen table and unrolled it.
"Is that a bone?" Jed leaned toward the wadded tissue.
Aanders picked it up and rolled it over in his hand. "It looks like a bone. It must be from a chicken or something."
Jed took the bone and examined it. He looked down at Sally. "Where did you get this?"
"I got two of them. The other one's in Mr. Bakke's jar."
"Where did you get them?" Jed glanced at Sadie.
"I can't tell you. It's a secret."
23
Dan Avery stretched his frame across the front seat, unlocked the passenger door, and swung it open for Pam.
"What do you think? Can you pick out my features?" Pam held the floral arrangement in front of her face. Fern leaves and baby's breath tickled her cheeks as she peered through the bouquet. "I need to be sure it's thick enough so no one can identify me."
Removing the arrangement from his wife's hands, Dan leaned between the seats and placed the vase on the floor behind the passenger seat. "I couldn't see your face at all. You did good, Babe. It's much better than those scraggly flowers you bought last time."
Dan patted Pam's leg as he pulled into traffic. "Relax. Everything's going to be all right." He placed his hand on her shoulder and worked his long fingers into her lower neck. "Your muscles are like concrete. Loosen up. When we mapped everything out this morning, you seemed okay with it."
"I am okay with it, but it doesn't mean I can relax," Pam grumbled, pushing Dan's hand off her shoulder. "You know how hard it is for me to relax." She pulled away as he reached for her hand. "Stop it. I'm so edgy my skin's on fire. I hate it when I lose control." She pressed her fist into her stomach to quash the burn, as the acidic knot tightened.
Dan slapped the steering wheel. "Listen, Pam. If you can't pull this off, tell me right now. You weren't this nervous last time."
Staring straight ahead as they neared the hospital parking lot, Pam jerked at the impact of Dan smacking the steering wheel for the second time.
"Damn it, Pam. Make up your mind." Pulling into one of the first available parking spaces, Dan took a deep breath. "Listen. I'm sorry. I'm wound up, too. You need to remember this is our last job using a middle man. After this, we're going to cut Reggie out and run our own show." He ran his hand the length of her thigh. "We'll be rich, Babe. We can get the house you always wanted. We'll start a family."
A small grin formed as Pam turned toward Dan. "Promise?"
"Like I told you, we're smart enough to do this on our own."
"When we have kids, we're going to quit this business," Pam said. "If we get caught, we'll lose everything."
"Then let's get this over with. The only way we'll rake in the bucks is to cut Reggie out." He grasped her clenched fist and squeezed it. "Trust me, Babe. I know what I'm doing."
Dan surveyed the parking lot before he backed out of the parking space and relocated closer to the hospital's front entrance. He pushed the lever into park and reached for the flowers.
Pam removed a plastic clip from her hair. Thick blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. She bent over and fluffed it into a mass, swirled it around her face, and made no attempt to smooth it back into place.
Holding the floral arrangement close to her shoulder, she kept her gaze on the sidewalk. The thudding inside her chest intensified. A cluster of hospital employees exited the building, a nurse commented on the fragrant purple petunias lining the portico's flower beds. Pam aimed for the glass doors. She grip
ped the gym bag tighter as several more pairs of shoes passed beneath the green fronds in the floral arrangement.
Dressed in jeans and a gray polo shirt, Dan waited until Pam entered the building before getting out of the car.
The pneumatic opener slid the glass doors to one side. Pam followed two uniform-clad employees into the building. She clenched her fist against her stomach. Scanning the area for security cameras they had located on their practice run, Pam held the arrangement in front of the roving eye while she approached the bank of elevators. Elevator three swooshed open.
Bypassing the admissions desk, Dan purchased a newspaper in the gift shop before sitting directly under the wall mounted security camera. He checked his watch, took a reinforcing breath, and rested his elbows on the wooden armrests. He opened the newspaper. Peering above the headline, he fixed his gaze on the elevator. The countdown had begun.
Stepping off the elevator onto the Obstetrics unit, Pam held the arrangement in front of her face. Her knuckles formed a white ridge around the gym bag's handle. Laughter erupted from the nursing station as a nurse relived a tale of a soon-to-be-forgotten blind date. With eyes cast downward, Pam passed the crowd at the desk and turned left toward the women's restroom. Her foot rammed against a thick rubber wheel. She peered down at the obstruction. A stainless-steel food cart stood next to the restroom door.
A fearful breath escaped Pam as a hand landed on her shoulder. "Are you all right? Those wheels can raise havoc with toes. Especially when you're wearing sandals."
Stepping around the cart, Pam responded without looking toward the voice. "No problem. I'm fine." She shut the restroom door and leaned against it. Her legs buckled. Gasping for air, she slid down the door until the coolness of the gray institutional tile permeated her shorts. She placed the base of her palms against her forehead.
"Get a grip," she whispered. Pulling her knees to her chest she repeatedly tapped her forehead against her knees. "Get up. You can do this."
Glancing at her watch, she realized Dan would panic if she didn't hurry. She opened the gym bag and removed a nursing uniform.
One week earlier, and in hopes of obtaining information, Pam had emailed the nurse from Pinecone Landing whom she had befriended at a conference. The woman had unwittingly obliged. Confident her uniform matched the scrubs worn by the OB nurses, and relieved her new friend wasn't on duty, Pam drew in a deep breath in preparation for the rigors ahead.
Removing her casual clothing, she folded the articles and placed them on the floor. She dug a comb, a yellow nametag, a stethoscope, a rubber binder, and a pair of white tennis shoes out of her bag. Her hands trembled as she looped the laces into a bow.
She secured her hair with the binder. Turning the faucet handle, she cupped her hand to gather water and patted her bangs until they lay flat against the top of her head. She ran the comb along her scalp repeatedly until the shorter hair melded with the longer strands. She sprayed them with hairspray. Wiping a tissue over her lips to remove her lipstick, she checked her image to make sure the woman leaving the bathroom did not resemble the woman who had entered.
Mentally listing the steps Dan had laid out for her, Pam unzipped a pouch and pulled a white receiving blanket from the opening. She also removed a denim draw-string bag. She shook open the blanket and tucked it into the main cavity of the empty gym bag smoothing it against the bottom. Picking her clothing off the floor, Pam placed the items in the denim bag.
She tugged on a pair of Latex gloves. One final item to check and she'd be ready to go. She pulled a small wad of gauze from a zippered bag. Checking the moisture content, she prayed she wouldn't have to use it.
Pam cracked the door open and fixed her gaze on the hall. She slowly inched the door wider and scanned the corridor. A mother, heavy with child, walked hand in hand with her partner, pushing an IV drip pole with her free hand. The expectant mother shuffled in discomfort. The young man beside her rubbed her back, attempting to ease the pressure on her lower spine.
Pam quickly shut the door and flipped the locking mechanism as a jubilant gathering emerged from one of the patient's rooms. She leaned against the door. She clutched her stomach. The gnawing pain had intensified since they had pulled into the hospital's parking lot. As voices faded, she edged the door open and peeked down the hall. Relatives and two nurses surrounded proud parents of newborn twins as they prepared to take their infants home.
"Perfect," Pam mouthed. The distraction suited her needs. She put the gym bag over her shoulder and adjusted the strap's length so her hand rested within the bag's opening. She looked both ways. Everyone in the hall concentrated on the throng surrounding the newborn twins. She grabbed the flowers and held them in front of her face.
The Obstetric unit contained private maternity suites featuring a bedroom, a bathroom with a shower, a toilet, and a sink. A rollaway bed and a fake-leather recliner sat next to each mother's bed for partners who wished to experience every moment of their new infant's life.
Passing the first door, Pam slowed to observe the occupants. She noticed an infant lying in a clear plastic bassinet. The pink bundle stirred and the newborn squeaked in protest announcing she needed attention. A long leg slid from beneath the bed covers as a young woman pressed the mute button on the remote control and lowered her foot to the floor.
Pam moved on. A tan privacy curtain hanging from a metal track mounted to the ceiling obscured the occupants in the second room. Their voices filtered through the barrier. Laughter and two pair of shoes firmly situated on the tile beneath the privacy curtain urged Pam to hurry down the corridor.
As Pam neared the end of the hall, she met the strolling couple pushing the IV pole. Their pace had slowed. An expression of impatience added to the woman's already obvious discomfort as she waved limply.
Pam's doubts swelled to paralyzing proportions. Tension sucked the air from her lungs. She willed her feet to cross over to the next hall.
Loving words offered to a newborn filtered from one of the rooms as Pam rounded the corner. She watched the mother secure the tabs on a tiny diaper before running her finger over the child's forehead.
"My lazy boy. You couldn't even stay awake long enough to finish nursing." The mother rewrapped the infant in a blue blanket. Lifting a tiny soiled diaper from the bed, she wrapped the vinyl securely with its own tabs before dropping it into the wastebasket. She placed the infant back in the bassinet. Kissing his forehead, she said, "Mommy will be right back. I'm going to take a shower." She pulled a clean nightgown from her suitcase before walking into the bathroom.
Pam strolled a few feet past the patient's room. She looked back to see if anyone else stood in the corridor. Shifting the flowers to her other hand, she approached the doorway.
Sally ran down the hall to catch up with Pam. "Wait for me," she shouted. "Jed might come, too, but he's still upstairs." She followed Pam over to the baby's bed. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached into the bassinette and ran her finger across the blue knit cap cradling the infant's head. "I'm Sally. Were you just borned?" She strained to reach further into the bassinet.
A lock snapped into place from inside the bathroom. A stream of water sputtered to life. As shower curtain rings slid along a metal rod, Pam set the bouquet on the rolling stand and placed the gym bag on the edge. She drew the security curtain. With trembling fingers, she lifted the small plastic baggie out of the bag, opened the sliding lock, and checked the chloroform-laced gauze. She placed it on the bed.
"What's in the bag?" Sally fingered the baggie.
Tucking the blue blanket snugly around the newborn, Pam slid her hands under him. The child remained deep in slumber. She pulled the denim bag out of the duffle bag and replaced it with the bundled infant. She situated the white receiving blanket around the baby. She paused. Confident the intrusion hadn't agitated him, she placed the gym bag over one shoulder and the denim bag over the other before picking the chloroform baggie off the bed. Clutching the gauze in her hand, she slipped it into the du
ffle bag and let it rest next to the infant's head.
Turning an ear toward the door, she slowly slid the privacy curtain to one side. Water still spewed from the shower.
She hugged the floral arrangement close as two nurses followed her to the elevator. One of the nurses rattled loose change as she talked about what she intended to purchase from the vending machine. Pam pushed the ground floor button. Several visitors followed the nurses into the elevator, causing the doors to retreat into the open position. As the doors finally closed, a beeping sound went off at the nurse's station.
"What's dinging?" A young boy looked up at his mother. "Do you hear it?"
"It's probably a patient ringing for a nurse," the boy's mother responded.
"We've had trouble with alarms going off in the birthing center this morning," the change-jingling nurse said. She smiled at the boy. "They installed a new system and they're working through the problems."
"Or it could be you know who," the second nurse commented. "I spent half the morning running errands for that demanding woman. Just because she's the wife of our mayor doesn't mean she has the right to treat me like a servant. Thank goodness her doctor signed her release."
Pam's heart beat with such intensity, she imagined everyone could hear the roar pulsing through her ears. Holding the wadded gauze steady next to the baby's head, she felt the elevator slow and settle to a stop. Open. Open. Open. The words raced repeatedly through her mind. She waited for the doors to part and set her free. Standing at the back of the elevator, she fought the urge to crumble into a heap as the rest of the occupants emptied the cavity. She stepped out into the hall. Twenty more yards and she'd be out the front door and on her way to a glorious future.
"Where are you going?" Sally followed Pam out of the elevator.
When Pam exited the elevator, Dan drew a ragged breath. He folded his newspaper. He strode across the aisle to a magazine rack and paged through the first issue within reach. He kept his head lowered and his gaze on Pam.
Pam placed the floral arrangement on an end table next to the chair where Dan had been seated and carefully slid the duffle bag under the chair. She turned and walked toward the restroom. As she pushed on the heavy door, she heard three loud beeps over the intercom. She listened for the announcement.
