Ashlyn's Radio (24 page)

She dragged in a sharp breath at the unexpected lightning bolt of sensation.

He chose that moment to pull away. He nodded toward the uniform shop. “You better get going.”

She looked at her watch. He was right. “Just let me tidy up. If I go in there looking like this, I’ll raise some eyebrows.”

Five minutes later, she went into the shop. Without wasting time, she approached the lone clerk. “I’m going to be starting next week over at the hospital’s psychiatric ward. They recruited me out of Canada.”

“I can hear that for myself,” the clerk said dryly.

Ashlyn blushed. “I brought some old uniforms with me that I had from my residency back in…” —
Quick! What province was close to Maine?
— “…New Brunswick. But this is my first real job, and I really want to fit in. So I was wondering….” She let her lips twist in a wry, self-deprecating smile. “Can you kind of point me to something that will help me at least
look
like I know what I’m doing?”

The clerk smiled. “Of course, sweetie. I’ve got just the thing for you.”

Fifteen minutes later, she hopped back into the SUV.

“Success?”

“Natch.” She smiled complacently. “Okay, what’s next? The pictures?”

“Yep.”

They drove straight to the downtown. They both got out, but Caden was the one who had to do this part. Ashlyn was just an observer. After forty-five minutes, he felt like he’d gotten enough quality shots. Then they went to a Starbucks in the mall while he uploaded the photos to his computer and began manipulating them. Half an hour later, he’d created a credible looking portfolio of professional photographs of one art gallery and one luxury hotel, both their exteriors and a few interior shots. He would have liked to get a municipal building to lend his
portfolio
a more corporate edge, but apparently they didn’t open on Saturdays.

“God, that looks great! You really could do this for a living, Caden.”

“Animals, maybe. Nature, possibly. Heck, maybe even people. But buildings? I don’t think so.”

“But the pictures are so good! You make the buildings look way more attractive and way more … moody … than they really are. No one would ever guess you didn’t have a passion for it.”

“Ah, but that’s because I
do
have a passion for fooling the hospital CEO. And this should just about do it.”

She squeezed his arm. “Thank you again, Caden,” she said. “I don’t think I’d have the courage to get past the lobby if you weren’t marching right in there with me.” They’d scoped out the layout of the hospital earlier. Once they got by security to get to the administrative offices, all she’d have to do is ride the elevator up one more floor and walk down one short corridor.

“Hey, my pleasure.”

She doubted that. Not that he wasn’t happy to help her, but she knew he’d take no pleasure in deceiving the CEO. He’d already said that if they bought his pitch and hired him, he would carry out the work, then donate his fee to the hospital foundation. That eased his conscience sufficiently to let him proceed.

“Next stop, Wal-Mart, for instant photo developing,” he declared.

She checked her watch. They’d have to be fast if they were going to land at the hospital during the lunch hour, when rounds would be finished and more importantly, when half the nurses would be at the cafeteria. The fewer people around, the better. She finished her latte in one gulp. “Let’s get moving then.”

Twenty minutes later, Caden had created for himself an official looking portfolio of impressive photos. It contained not just the ones he’d taken this morning of the buildings, but a number of portraits of people he’d taken over the years — some of his dad’s fellow profs and random other people who’d needed a good head and shoulders shot for one purpose or another.

Upon arriving at the administration office, they were met by the CEO himself, a Mr. Albert Ross. Caden apologized for necessitating a Saturday meeting, reiterating that it was the only time he had as he was moving through the area. 

“Happy to do it, son. You made some very astute observations about our image. I hadn’t really given it much thought until I got your email.”

Caden smiled. “It’s very easy to get comfortable with what you’ve got,” he allowed. “So comfortable, you don’t really see it anymore. That’s when you need new eyes. Objective eyes.”

“Yes, yes, exactly.” He glanced at Ashlyn. “Is this your assistant?”

“My girlfriend, actually.” Ashlyn smiled at him on cue. Caden turned back to the CEO. “I don’t usually work on Saturdays either,” he said. “But this job really spoke to me. People need to see compassion in your corporate face if they’re going to feel good about leaving their vulnerable loved ones in your care. I think I can help you do that, present a kinder face.”

The CEO beamed. “Well, step right this way, Mr. Winchester.”

“Oh, please, call me Sam,” Caden said, without missing a beat, and Ashlyn had to bite back a laugh when it garnered no reaction from the older man. Clearly the administrator was not a fan of
Supernatural
.

“Sam it is.” He glanced at Ashlyn, “And you too, Miss…?”

“Talbot.” She smiled at him. “Bella Talbot. But I think I’ll leave the two of you to talk business. I’ll just wait out here, if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine,” he agreed. “Make yourself at home.”

“I will. Thank you. And Sam….” She let the name hang there. “If I get bored, I may just slip down to the gift shop. So if I’m not here when you’re done, you’ll know where to find me. Okay?”

“Perfect.” Caden/Sam said.

“But first, Mr. Ross, could you direct me to a public washroom?”

“Of course. Down the hall, on your left.”

As Caden disappeared into the administrator’s inner office, Ashlyn shouldered her bag and hightailed it for the washroom. Two minutes later, she was eyeing her reflection critically in the mirror. The uniform was a little too large, but that was okay. It made her look older, as did the neat bun she’d made of her hair. Then she clipped onto her uniform pocket the laminated photo ID Caden had dummied up for her, picked up the armful of files filled with random papers, and the disguise was complete. She looked like a professional … something-or-other. A clinician of some kind.

Please God, let it be good enough.

She stepped out of the washroom. Trying to look as casual and confident as though she actually belonged in this milieu, she made her way to the elevator. The car was empty, and she rode it to the next level. There were four nurses waiting to board the car as she disembarked, but they didn’t pay her the slightest attention. Swallowing her anxiety, she moved quickly down the corridor to the psychiatric ward and pulled the door handle. The door did not budge.

Crap! Locked. Of course it would be. Dammit! Unfortunately her dummy ID didn’t come with a swipe stripe to let her in. Thinking fast, she hustled back down the empty corridor, flipped open a file and pretended to be reading as she slowly walked back toward the ward. Sure enough, she heard steps behind her. Timing her own steps, she arrived at the doors the same time as did the orderly, a tall, pale man.

As anticipated, he swiped his card and held the door open for her to save her the trouble of juggling her files. With a smile and a murmured, “Thank you,” she preceded him through the doors. Once inside, he continued on his way briskly.

Moving more slowly, Ashlyn exhaled a shaky breath. She was in. Next step was to find which room was her mother’s, which she would do just as soon as she could bring her pounding heart under control.

A moment later, she conceded that wasn’t going to happen. She’d just have to carry through, dry mouth, racing pulse and all. But where to start? She could begin sticking her head in rooms and saying, “Whoops, wrong room.” Or she could go to the nurses’ station and just ask for Ms. Caverhill’s room. Which was the likeliest to get her caught? What would Veronica Mars do here?

Resisting the urge to chew her lip, she walked confidently toward the nurses’ station, ready to bullshit her way through in true Veronica fashion. But when she arrived there, it was deserted. A temporary situation, she knew, but one she was damned well going to take advantage of!

She stepped into the station and headed straight for the circular rack bristling with charts. Heart pounding deafeningly in her ears, she pulled out one chart after another.
Come on, come on, come on.
From somewhere down the hall, she heard the squeak of approaching rubber soles. Whoops! She was caught! Ready to babble an explanation, it was all she could do to keep the words from spilling out when she saw it was the same orderly again. He gave her a polite nod as he passed, continued to the end of the hall, plugged a code into the alarm and left the ward the same way he’d come.

Nerve endings positively singed from that last blast of adrenaline, Ashlyn went back to her search. On the fourteenth try, she scored pay dirt. Room 225. Shoving the chart back into place, she scooted out of the nurses’ station and down the hall.

Room 225 was a corner room. The door swung open soundlessly. A private room, it was occupied only by the small figure in the bed. A lunch tray stood beside the bed, barely touched. Ashlyn’s heart contracted when she focused in on her mother’s face, pale and still on the pillow. Sleeping, she realized.

She moved closer to the bed, pushing the meal tray out of the way.

 “Mom? Mom, wake up. It’s me.” Ashlyn laid a hand on her mother’s arm. Her much thinner arm. “I don’t have a lot of time, Mom. Come on, wake up.”

Her mother’s eyes fluttered open. At first, those green eyes were … empty. Then they filled with wonder and sheer happiness. “Ashlyn!” she breathed.

Ashlyn beamed. She knew those stupid nurses were lying. Her mother did want to see her. Was overjoyed to see her.

Then the pleasure in her mother’s gaze abruptly turned to alarm, and then horror. “Ashlyn? Omigod, Ashlyn! Nooooooo! You can’t be here.”

“Hush, Mom. I know I’m not supposed to be here, but I had to see you.”

“Those fools!” Leslie was wringing her hands. “Oh, I told them not to let you come. He wants you, Ashlyn. You can’t be here! You can’t!”

“Keep it down, Mom. They’ll send nurses to investigate.” Then, although she had a sinking feeling she knew the answer, she asked the obvious. “Mom, what you said just then … who wants me?”

“That damned conductor!” Leslie wailed. “He took your father and now he wants to take my little girl from me. Everything I ever loved….”

“Mom, I
saw
him,” Ashlyn said in a rush, unable to contain the news a moment longer. “I saw Dad on the train. Well at first I didn’t know it was him, but then I found your yearbook and I recognized him.”

“You
saw
him?”

Leslie had started to tremble like the aspens behind Maudette’s house in a stiff breeze. Ashlyn’s eyes widened in alarm. “Mom? You’re shaking! Are you okay?”

“You’ve been to the tracks? Seen the train? The conductor? And he saw you?”

“He wasn’t interested in me,” Ashlyn said, waving a dismissive hand. “There’s another girl — Rachel Riley. I’m pretty sure he wants her. But we’re not going to let him get her.”

“Oh, dear God in heaven, he
saw
you! He looked into those green eyes and now he knows!” Her mother started rocking her head and shoulders up and down, just repeating the same words: “He saw you he saw you he saw you he saw you….”

Oh, no! Her mother was really coming unglued right before her eyes. She’d better work fast. “Mom, it’s okay,” she said quickly, with as much assurance and authority as she could muster. “Really. I’m not going to let him get me. I promise. But … he’s not going to get Rachel either.”

But her mother was gone. Her green eyes — suddenly glassy and unfocused now — had turned inward, and she started to sing. Ashlyn’s blood ran cold as she recognized the tune:

“Oh, the Conductor will be there to greet her when she comes

When she comes!

The Conductor will be there to greet her when she comes

When she comes!

She’ll get on board that train and her life won’t be the same

Oh, the Conductor will be there to greet her when she comes!”

With each word, her mother’s voice grew stronger and more strident, more agitated.

“Mom, stop it! The nurses will come if you don’t be quiet.”

Leslie kept right on singing, but sobbing helplessly now as she did.

“And he won’t stop till the end of the line.

He’ll always come another time.

He’ll get my little girl, when he comes….”

Ashlyn was crying now, frightened to see her mother so agitated and out of control. “Oh, Mom, please!” 

In the next instant, the door burst open and a nurse bustled in with a hypodermic needle in hand. She stopped in her tracks, however, when she saw Ashlyn.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

Ashlyn had already removed the laminated photo ID and stuffed it in the pocket of her uniform. The jig was up and she would not get Caden in trouble. Even though he wasn’t using his real name for his negotiations with the hospital administrator, she didn’t want any of this to come back on him.

She squared around to face the nurse, hands on hips. “I’m Ashlyn Caverhill and I’m here to visit my mother. I’ve been trying to get in to see her for weeks, but you people wouldn’t allow it. So I had to resort to this.” She gestured to the uniform. “I have every right to be here. She’s my
mother
.”

As she faced down the nurse, her mother’s voice continued to grow in volume and desperation, and she’d begun flailing in the bed. Or trying to. It was only then that Ashlyn noticed one bruised arm and one leg were belted with restraints.

“Your rights don’t supersede your mother’s, young lady,” the nurse snarled. “She has every right
not
to see you. We
told
you it would just upset her, that she’s not ready for this. Now leave. Please.”

As Ashlyn watched, the nurse caught Leslie’s free hand and pinned it down, quickly attaching a restraint.