by Jana DeLeon
“What’s the matter, you two?” he asked as he stopped at the bench and peered over. “You fighting over some hot pussy?” He laughed at his own joke, then focused on the lump that the cats were poised on.
And screamed.
###
Clara had just reached the reception desk when a paramedic ran into the emergency room, yelling incoherently. His eyes were wide open, all color was drained from his face, and his entire body shook.
“He’s in shock,” Clara said. “Call for backup.”
She tossed the pillowcase on the reception desk and ran over to the paramedic, scanning his body for injury. “What’s wrong, Mike? Where is Drew?”
“Dead!” Mike screamed. “He’s dead!”
Two nurses ran into the lobby and looked at Clara, clearly out of their element. “Take him to a room and get him calmed down.” She looked at the receptionist. “Call Jeremy and tell him to meet me out front. And then call the police and tell them that someone tried to murder a patient.”
The girl paled. “Yes, ma’am.” She grabbed the phone. Clara could hear her shaky voice summoning Jeremy as she walked outside.
She looked across the parking lot and spotted Mike’s ambulance. Nothing appeared out of place except that Drew was nowhere in sight. The young paramedic was never without a pack of cigarettes in his pocket. If he wasn’t inside the hospital, he was probably in the smoking area. The door behind her swung open and Jeremy hurried outside.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“One of the paramedics came inside in shock, screaming that the other boy was dead. And someone tried to kill one of my patients.”
“What?” Jeremy stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“You heard me. Now pull out that gun of yours and let’s go see if we can find Drew. He may need medical attention.” Clara took off down the sidewalk, pleased that her voice sounded strong, because the truth was, she was scared shitless. During her career, she’d seen all manner of violence, but always sometime after it had occurred. She hadn’t been on-site for any of the evil men perpetrated against one another since she’d left the Ninth Ward.
Jeremy strode next to her, gripping his pistol and casting glances her way. She knew he was confused, but he was also a good man and he’d known her forever.
“You all right?” she asked him.
“I’m a little confused, but if you think something’s wrong, then I’m betting something’s wrong. You really think something happened to Drew?”
“I think Mike was in shock, and in the five years he’s worked this hospital, I’ve never even seen him lift an eyebrow.”
Jeremy nodded. He knew Mike as well as she did. He was efficient and focused to the point of appearing callous. Clara was already bracing herself for whatever had sent him over the edge that way. It had to be bad beyond imagination.
They walked around the hedges into the smoking area and alley cats raced from behind a park bench and scattered around them. Clara’s heart dropped and she slowed as she approached the bench. Jeremy pulled out his flashlight and shone it over the bench, but the moonlight had been enough for Clara to see what had done Mike in. It damned near did her in as well.
Her hand flew up over her mouth and she took a step back, bumping into Jeremy.
“Sweet Jesus,” Jeremy said.
Panic coursed through Clara, setting every nerve ending in her body on edge. Her stomach rolled and a wave of dizziness washed over her. “We’ve got to get the police. Something horrible is going on here.”
Jeremy nodded and silently backed away from the bench. Clara paused long enough to say a silent prayer for Drew, then spun around and practically ran back to the hospital.
With every pounding footstep, she tried to make sense of the irrational.
And failed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma awakened to the sound of commotion in the break room. So many voices, and all of them talking at once. It sounded more like a college dorm room than a hospital. She pushed herself up a bit, trying to make out the muddled words. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. She looked at her watch and blinked several times, trying to focus on the time. Damned sleeping pill.
Six a.m.
Too early for the day shift. So why all the racket? She struggled up to a sitting position and frowned. The noise level was that of a party, but the tone of the voices was all wrong—high-pitched and strained. Something was wrong.
The door opened and Clara stuck her head inside. “You’re awake?”
“Sorta. What’s going on out there?”
“Give me a minute.” Clara closed the door and Emma heard her giving orders to the staff.
Orders that included the police?
Emma stiffened. Surely she’d heard wrong. The medicine was messing everything up. A second later, Clara came into the room, and one look at the senior nurse’s face and Emma knew something was horribly wrong.
“What happened?”
“Someone attacked Miss Melody last night.”
“Oh no! Is she all right?”
“She’s still unconscious but stable.”
“Thank God. Who attacked her? How did he get in?”
“He killed one of the paramedics and took his shirt.”
Emma sucked in a breath, her head spinning. “He killed a…oh my God. Why would anyone want to hurt Melody?”
Clara shook her head. “The police are questioning everyone on shift last night but they’re not giving out any information.”
“Do you know anything about her?”
“Personal you mean?”
Emma nodded.
“What little bit I know I told the police. I know she’s got money. Her clothes are tailor-made and the jewelry she was wearing when they brought her in isn’t the kind you buy from a case. She was arguing with someone on the phone this morning about money. When I told her not to take calls that upset her, she told me her nephew was the most useless human God had ever created.”
“You think he tried to kill her to get her money?”
“I’d hate to think it, but it happens more and more these days.”
“That’s awful. I can’t believe it.”
“It’s hard to. I mean, you hear such things on the news but you never really think…” Clara looked at Emma. “But then, you know that better than most of us.” She gave Emma’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ve got to make rounds. Why don’t you try to get another couple hours?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Emma said but she knew there was no way in hell she’d be able to sleep after what Clara had told her. She’d slept here thinking it was safe. She had no doubt Melody had felt the same, but look what had happened. If someone killed a paramedic just to get his hands on Melody’s money, there was no reason her stalker couldn’t do the same.
A chill ran through her and she crossed her arms across her chest. She’d even taken a sleeping pill. Stupid! She couldn’t remember lying down, much less anything that had happened while she was asleep. Not a single noise or movement. Not even a dream. She may as well have been under anesthesia.
She reached for the lamp next to the bed and turned the switch on, the small light casting a decent glow across the room. She threw the covers off her legs and felt something slip on her finger. She lifted her left hand and barely managed to cover her mouth with her right hand before she screamed.
The wedding band that had once fit perfectly sat loosely on her now-thinner ring finger. It glittered in the lamplight, mocking her with every glint.
She bolted from the bed and ran into the attached bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before retching. Over and over she heaved, until her chest and back ached. Finally, she yanked the ring off and dropped it into the toilet, then flushed it away. Her finger still tingled from where the ring had rested as if saying no matter what she did, she couldn’t erase her past.
She jumped up from the floor and hurried to the sink. The medicine cabinet next to it contained basic bathroom s
upplies. Fumbling through the items, she located a wire brush and alcohol. She poured the alcohol onto her hand and began scrubbing.
“I have to make it go away,” she said as she ran the wire back and forth and around her finger.
She didn’t even stop when it started bleeding.
###
Shaye burst into the emergency room and rushed up to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Clara Mandeville.”
“I’m sorry, but Ms. Mandeville can’t be disturbed.” The young woman looked completely rattled.
“My name is Shaye Archer. Ms. Mandeville asked me to come.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Oh, Ms. Archer. Yes!” She grabbed the phone and spoke to someone, then hung up. “Ms. Mandeville is in intensive care room seven. Down the hallway and to the right.”
“Thank you,” Shaye said as she rushed through the doors and down the hall. Clara had refused to give Shaye details with her early-morning phone call. She’d simply said that Shaye needed to get to the hospital right away. That Emma needed her. The cop cars in the parking lot hadn’t done anything to decrease her fear.
The only redeeming part was that if Emma needed her, then that meant she was alive. At least, Shaye assumed that meant Emma was alive. But what if the worst had happened and Clara didn’t want to tell her over the phone? She’d literally pulled on clothes as she ran out of Corrine’s house. Her mother was still asleep, thank goodness, and the housekeeper assured Shaye she’d keep watch on her until Eleonore arrived. Then Shaye had broken at least ten major traffic laws on the drive over.
She skidded around the corner to the critical care hall and burst into room seven. Emma sat on the edge of a hospital bed, Clara standing in front of her, wrapping her hand. Another nurse held a tray with bandages.
“Are you all right?” Shaye asked as she walked up. “What happened? Why are the police here?”
Emma stared at the wall in front of them, not even acknowledging Shaye’s presence. Her eyes were red and swollen. Her skin was pale and she looked several years older than she had the day before. Clara motioned to the nurse to finish wrapping Emma’s hand and headed out of the room and across the hall to a vacant room.
As soon as she closed the door behind them, Clara gripped Shaye’s shoulders and looked her up and down. “It is so good to see you, child. It’s been too long.”
Shaye nodded, but couldn’t meet Clara’s gaze. She’d always had good intentions of visiting Clara, but she’d spent so much time in the hospital, and all of it associated with negative things. She’d wanted to put it all behind her, and unfortunately, Clara had gotten lumped in with that part of her life. “I wanted to visit you but…”
“Oh honey, I understand. Sometimes a person’s got to pick a day to start their life over and never look back. I did it once myself and never regretted it for a moment. I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished, and I’m glad you’re helping Emma.”
Shaye sniffed. “Thank you. It means a lot. Really.”
Clara nodded. “It was a bad one here last night.”
“What happened?”
“A man killed a paramedic outside and stole his uniform to get in here. He suffocated another patient.”
“Oh my God. Is the patient all right?”
“She’s been unconscious but she’s starting to stir. We won’t know the extent of the damage, if any, until later.”
“What does this have to do with Emma? Why is she in shock?”
“At first, I didn’t think it had anything to do with Emma. The patient is a wealthy woman who recently cut a lazy nephew off the money train. I figured it was him behind it. Then I went back to the break room to check on Emma and that’s when I found her scrubbing her knuckles. When I tried to get her to stop, she took a swipe at me. Said she had to get the evil off.”
“The evil?”
“Took me a while to get it out of her. That man…if you can even call him that, killed that paramedic and suffocated that poor old lady to get at Emma.”
“How can you be sure?”
“For starters, the paramedic’s eyes were cut out. Jeremy didn’t see the face when we found Drew, but when the police told him about it this morning when they questioned us, he flipped and told them about the mice.”
Shaye’s hand involuntarily flew up to cover her mouth.
“Soon as I heard that, I hustled back to the break room, and that’s when Emma told me about the ring.” Clara looked visibly ill.
“What ring?”
“When Emma woke up this morning, she was wearing her wedding band. The one she swore she’d thrown away.”
She had to get the evil off.
“Oh my God.” Shaye’s stomach rolled. “She thought she’d be safe here.”
“Everyone thought she’d be safe here. How could anyone predict something like this? Even if someone had suggested it, no one would have believed it could happen.”
“Did Emma talk to the police?”
Clara nodded. “She came around enough to talk to them, and she managed to get the story out. It was when she found out about the paramedic that she went over the edge again.”
“Do they believe her now?”
“They seemed a bit skeptical, but with a dead paramedic, a patient who was attacked, and Jeremy’s story of the mice, they seemed to come around. It probably would have been better if Emma hadn’t flushed the ring, but I understand why she did. She told them about you, too. When they find out you’re here, they’re going to want to talk to you. I just figured you’d want to know what you were walking into.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Shaye blew out a breath. “What the hell is wrong with this guy?”
Clara shook her head. “I wish I knew. Maybe it’s as simple as what Emma said—evil.”
The door swung open and both of them jumped. Emma stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Color had flooded back into her skin, and instead of looking spaced out, Emma looked angry. “You said you could help me with my car situation?” she asked Shaye.
“Yes. I think so, but—”
“Can we do it now?” Emma asked. “I mean right now?”
“You can’t leave the hospital right now,” Clara said. “The police may need something and that…that thing is out there somewhere.”
“That’s exactly why I’ve got to leave,” Emma said. “Not just the hospital. I’m leaving New Orleans. And I want to do it as soon as possible.”
“But the police believe you now,” Shaye said. “They’ll be looking for Ron.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “You know who did this?”
“I have a damned good idea,” Shaye said.
“What makes you think they’ll find him?” Emma asked. “He killed a man last night and almost killed a patient, just to put that piece of gold on my hand. He’ll do anything. And there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him. I won’t be safe until he’s dead, not really. But the closest I can come is disappearing.”
Shaye couldn’t argue with her. The best thing Emma could do was leave New Orleans and do everything possible to cover her tracks. Without the benefit of the GPS tracking device that Shaye was fairly certain was on Emma’s car, Ron would have no way to locate her short of searching the medical facilities in every city across the United States.
“Okay,” Shaye said. “I’ll call my friend and ask him to meet us right now. Go get your things.”
“Thank you,” Emma said and hurried out of the room.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Clara asked.
“Not entirely,” Shaye said, “but in this case, yes. I’m pretty sure the stalker put a GPS tracker on Emma’s car. That’s how he’s been able to locate her even when she changed hotels.”
“So she needs a new car, but it’s Sunday.”
“The friend I’m calling owns a used car lot and he owes me.”
The “friend” was actually a former client at her previous job. While investigating him for insurance fraud, she’d discovered that his emplo
yees were the ones ripping off the insurance companies. He’d told her that any time she needed a favor involving automobiles, he would take care of it. She planned on holding him to his word.
Clara nodded. “I see what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, it’s all good except for the part where the police are going to have a stroke when they find out Emma left with me.”
“I’ll handle them. You just get Emma out of New Orleans.”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emma clutched the keys to her slightly used SUV and looked at Shaye. “I don’t even know how to begin to thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary. I’m glad I could help.”
Emma glanced back at the car lot owner, who was staring at the SUV, a rueful look on his face. “I’m not so sure he is.”
“Oh, I’ll bet he’s not losing any money. He’s just not making any. I was thinking I could pick up your stuff at the hotel and meet you somewhere.”
Emma was about to agree when her phone rang. She checked the display and frowned. “It’s Mr. Abshire.”
“Your nosy next-door neighbor?”
“Yeah.” She answered the call and knew right away that something was wrong.
“Are you at home?” he asked, his voice elevated several octaves. “I knocked and knocked but you didn’t answer.”
“No, I’m not. What’s wrong?”
“The street’s full of police cars. They were in Mrs. Pearson’s house, then they came to yours. When you didn’t answer, they came to mine, asking if I knew where you were.”
“They didn’t tell you what’s happening?”
“No. But I think you should come home.”
Emma clutched the phone. It wasn’t her home. Not anymore, but she’d never heard Henry sound so stressed. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
