Chapter Ten #3
The glass fractured inside Emmy’s throat again. Jude’s voice, her intonations, the way she studied Emmy with one eyebrow cocked, were so reminiscent of Myrna that it was like standing beside her mother. Emmy gripped together her hands. Then she saw Jude watching and forced her hands apart.
The doors opened. Emmy was out first. She looked up and down the empty hallway, welcoming the shot of anger that replaced the embarrassing swell of emotion. “I told Brett to post somebody outside Mandy’s door the minute she was out of surgery.”
Jude followed her toward the nurses’ station. No one was at the desk, but Mandy’s name and room number were on a white-board behind a bank of computers for anybody to see.
“Unbelievable.” Emmy started to text a nasty message to Brett. Then she deleted it, because she didn’t want him showing it to his pals.
“Emmy?” Layla Paulson was coming out of a room at the end of the hall.
She was a sturdy-looking woman who exuded kindness.
Her blouse was wrinkled. Her hair looked less tidy than usual.
Emmy looked at the time. She knew that Layla had stayed with Mandy well past working hours to make sure the girl wasn’t alone.
Emmy asked, “Is she awake?”
“She’s started to come around. It’s not going to be like a light switch turning on. Her eyes keep opening and closing. We had to restrain her arms so she wouldn’t remove the bandages. She’s breathing on her own, a bit agitated. These are all good signs.”
“Has she said anything?”
“Not much beyond expressing pain. Her throat is sore from being intubated. We brought her some ice chips. One of the OR nurses heard her ask for her father before she went into surgery.”
Emmy had sent a deputy to follow Bill to the hospital from the ballpark, but she’d let him leave after it was made clear Bill wasn’t going to be allowed access to Mandy. “Is Bill still here?”
“He was downstairs earlier, but security made it clear he couldn’t see her. He tried to make a scene. They got him out of here quickly.”
Emmy glanced at Jude. “Did the OR nurse say how Mandy asked for Bill?”
“Not in an alarming way.” Layla had clearly been following the chatter online. “More like, ‘Where’s my dad?’”
“Okay.” Emmy realized she hadn’t made introductions.
“This is Dr. Jude Archer. She’s—she’s consulting with me on the case.
” Emmy tuned out their small talk. She looked at the door to Mandy’s room.
She could hear the faint beeps of a heart monitor.
The soft hiss of oxygen. Unbidden, she remembered walking the halls of the memory care center in the nursing home.
The feeling of dread when she went back into the room that her mother would be gone.
Or worse, that she would still be alive.
“Emmy?” Layla waited for her to snap out of it. “I can only give you a few minutes with her. She can’t be stressed out.”
Emmy had to be honest. “She’s gonna be stressed. I need to ask her if she saw the man who murdered her mother and shot her in the head.”
Layla frowned. “It’s very unlikely she’ll remember those details. It’ll take time for everything to come back. She might not even know why she’s here.”
Jude weighed in. “Her brain is still trying to rewire itself. She won’t be oriented to time or place.
Ask open-ended questions. Guide her away from Allison.
The main thing she’ll need to feel right now is safe.
She might not recall the shooting, but the body holds on to trauma.
She’ll still be trapped inside the fear. ”
Emmy’s instinct was to argue, but she had to accept that Jude was the expert. “Okay.”
Layla gestured toward the doorway. Emmy entered first. She heard Jude stop behind her. Layla took position at the foot of the bed. They all three stood in place, no one speaking, the beep of the heart monitor and Mandy’s shallow breathing offering the only sound.
The lights were off, but the glow from the monitors provided a ghostly illumination.
The room was laid out like any hospital room.
Large window overlooking the air-conditioning units on the roof below.
Plastic blinds with slats akimbo. Wallpaper patterned in a geometric design.
A rolling table with a box of tissues and a Styrofoam cup filled with ice chips.
A reclining chair covered in weird, antimicrobial vinyl that had the texture of white bread and smelled like burned Cheez-Its.
A single hospital bed with the rails up.
A small, young girl enveloped in heavy blankets.
Mandy’s eyes were closed, but it was hard to tell if that was because she was asleep or because the lids were swollen shut.
Her skin had an unnatural puffiness. Bruises were starting to edge across her face.
Her lips were pale. Velcro restraints tethered her tiny arms to either side of the bed.
Her right wrist and leg were in a cast. Her head looked almost twice its size because of a thick turban of bandages.
The oxygen canula had slipped from her nose.
Without thinking, Emmy reached out and gently tucked it back in.
She blinked her eyes and remembered the thousands of times she had done the same for her mother.
Emmy cleared her throat. Banished thoughts of Myrna from her mind.
“Mandy?”
The girl stirred. Her lips smacked. She turned her head toward Emmy, but her eyes did not open.
Emmy thought about what Jude had said about safety. She dropped the bed rail. Carefully sat down on the edge of the mattress. Gently took Mandy’s hand.
“Mandy?” Emmy squeezed her hand. “It’s Emmy Clifton. Your mom’s friend from book club.”
Mandy’s lips smacked again. Her eyelids fluttered open. She didn’t look at Emmy. Her gaze traveled to the gun on Emmy’s hip. The star on her chest. When she finally focused on Emmy’s face, there was something like recognition in her eyes.
“There you are.” Emmy smiled as she cupped her hand to Mandy’s cheek. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe.”
Mandy blinked. A tear seeped from her eye. She tried to raise her hand to wipe it away.
Emmy pulled a tissue from the box. Dabbed away the tear. “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”
“Where—” Mandy’s lips quivered. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Mama?”
“Your mom asked me to check on you.” Emmy wished like hell she’d asked Jude for a better lie. “I know you’re tired, baby, but do you mind talking to me for a minute?”
“Where—” Mandy coughed. “Where’s Dad?”
Emmy didn’t know if she was asking about Bill because she wanted him or because she was scared he would try to shoot her again. “He’s downstairs. Do you want me to get your dad up here so he can be with you?”
Mandy’s eyes closed. Her breath was more like a sigh of relief. “Please.”
“Okay.” Emmy glanced at Layla. She was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Jude was beside her. “I’m sending someone to bring up your dad, all right?”
Mandy coughed again. “Th-thank you.”
“How about some ice for your throat?”
Mandy turned her head, stuck out her tongue.
Emmy spooned ice into her mouth. She couldn’t help but think about feeding Cole in his highchair.
It was a good reminder of all that Mandy had lost. The sixteen-year-old girl floating down the Flint River in a big straw hat with her friends was gone.
She was alone now. She would never feel that kind of joyful ease ever again.
Emmy put the spoon back in the cup. She tried to ask a question that would establish a starting point before the shooting. “Baby, do you remember packing your bags to go somewhere?”
Mandy’s eyes closed. She nodded. “Leaving.”
“That’s right. Your mom was taking you out of town.” Emmy held on to the girl’s hand again. “Do you know where you were going?”
Her chin tilted up. She was trying to remember. “No.”
“Do you know why your mom wanted to leave?”
“T-to get away from—” Mandy’s breathing turned ragged. The beeps on the heart monitor came closer together. Her leg moved under the blankets. She pulled at the restraints. “H-have to go. Can’t be here.”
Emmy saw Layla push away from the wall, but still, she tried, “Mandy, who did your mom want to get away from? Was it Woody?”
“N-no …” Mandy gulped for air. She jerked against the restraints. “N-n-not …”
Layla grabbed Mandy’s foot to still her leg. “Mandy. Calm down.”
“Mandy, look at me.” Emmy leaned in closer, put her face close to the girl’s. “I’m here. It’s Emmy Clifton. Your mom sent me to look after you. I’m not going to let anybody hurt you. I promise. Okay?”
Mandy’s eyes narrowed. She focused on Emmy. The recognition was back. She stopped resisting. Her head rested against the pillow.
Emmy waited for Layla’s permission to continue.
“Sweetie, take some more breaths for me,” Emmy coached. “Nice and easy.”
Mandy squeezed her eyes closed until her breathing slowed back to normal. The heart monitor steadied out.
Emmy took a moment to consider her next question. “I’ve been talking to Talia. She wanted me to tell you that she loves you, and she’s going to come visit you soon.”
Another tear wept from her eye. Emmy wiped it away with the tissue.
“Talia told me about a man you’ve been talking to.”
Mandy’s lips parted. Her breath stuttered.
“It’s all right, baby. You’re not in trouble. Can you tell me the name of the man?”
Mandy’s chest rose and fell as she tried to control her breathing. She was becoming agitated again.
Emmy tried to come at the question from a different direction. “Hey, you know how your mom keeps her work on the dining-room table?”
Mandy’s breathing slowly reset to baseline. “Messy.”
Emmy made herself laugh. “You’re right. It’s very messy in the dining room. Do you know if there’s anything special your mom keeps on the table?”
“Dry—” Mandy coughed again.
“Is your throat dry?” Emmy grabbed the cup, scooped some ice.
“Driver’s license.”