Chapter 11
“Thank you for your time, Nova.” Detective Lopez says, snapping her notepad closed. “I’ll be in touch.” She turns to leave, pausing and pulling something from her pocket. “If you think of anything else, give me a call.” Handing me her business card, she walks toward the nursing station, stopping to speak with one of the doctors who have been treating Hollis.
I stare blankly down at the small card in my hand.
He left me. Again.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. I could tell something was up when the detective started talking to us. West’s face paled and he looked like he was about to be sick. I was hoping that my touch would be enough of a comfort, but it was a futile hope.
Letting out a heavy breath, I tuck away the card and walk into Hollis’ room. The sound of monitors beeping reaches me first. Sending me back to the last time I was in a room similar to this one.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The rhythmic sound fills the chilly room.
Mona had been complaining of some minor chest pain and difficulty breathing the last few weeks. A cough lingered after a really bad cold several months back and it all just kept getting worse. My mom finally convinced her to get checked out after finding Mona doubled over in pain over the sink one night after dinner.
That’s what led us to being here. Listening to a doctor say things that sounded like a bad hospital melodrama.
“Mrs. Layton.”
“Ms.” Cough. “Please,” Cough. “Please call me Ms. Layton.” Mona chokes out between painful coughs.
“My apologies. Ms. Layton, I’m afraid your test results came back with some bad news.” The doctor pulls up a few images on the tablet held in his hand. “You see these right here?” He hovers over the blurry picture, pointing at a blob that looks just as out of place as everything else on the screen.
Mona nods, clutching the hospital blanket closer to her chest.
Closing the tablet, the physician looks at Mona with an expression that sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m afraid those are tumors, Ms. Layton.”
“T-tumors?” Mona stammers, looking at each of us before returning her attention back to the doctor. “Does that mean I have cancer?” Her voice breaks on the last word.
He nods sadly. “Yes, I’m afraid so. I wish I had better news, but from your tests, it appears you have Stage 3 Mesothelioma.”
I blink rapidly, trying and failing to keep back the tears.
Just like that day, I feel so helpless. A bystander witnessing someone I love slip away from me.
Sitting down on a small chair next to Hollis’ hospital bed, I gently clasp his hand.
“I’m going to find who did this to you, Hol.” I vow, a sorrowful rage burning inside of me. “I’m going to find them. And I’m going to kill them.”