Blackout (20 page)

Betty Senior’s voice sounded hoarse when she answered. “No. If I didn’t see them do it, you know I couldn’t feel them. I don’t remember watching anyone do that. I think I would remember because it would seem odd.”

“If anyone does it again…” Betty paused and swallowed hard. “You scream as loud as you can. Okay?”

In answer, Betty Senior nodded. Betty bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek. She’d always wondered if Ma had ever wished herself dead after her stroke. If sometimes maybe late at night she wanted to give up, escape from the body that no longer worked. But they never talked about it. And Betty could tell her mother was scared.

I don’t blame her
.
How could anyone do such a thing? And to be helpless, a prisoner in your own body.

“Ma, I’m going to call the hospital agency about a sitter. I have to go to the nurses’ station to find the phone number. Then I’m coming right back to stay with you until she arrives. Will you be okay? Can I get you anything? Or is there someone you’d like to stay with you until I get back?”

Betty Senior opened her eyes. “Who do you suggest? How can we know anyone would be safe until the killer’s caught?”

“You have a point there,” Betty said, sighing. “I’ll get back as fast as I can.”

Her mother nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes open and yell if I need help.”

“All right.” Betty started to leave but paused in the doorway, watching her mother. Betty Senior’s eyes hardly blinked as she lay there, so still. Still and vulnerable. Quickly, Betty turned and went to the nurses’ station.

She saw Alice huddled on a couch with Donald next to her. With a pang, Betty realized she’d forgotten all about the girl and her excitement about remembering her name.

When Alice saw her, she jumped up. “How’s Lettie?”

Betty shook her head. “Not good. They’ve taken her to the hospital. Listen, will you go sit with Ma for me? I have to make a phone call, then I’ll join you.”

“Is something wrong with Betty Senior?” Donald asked.

“I’m not positive, but I’d feel better if someone stayed with Ma right now. I’ll explain later.”

“Of course we’ll stay with Betty Senior,” Donald said.

As they walked away, Betty felt reassured. But then a horrible thought occurred to her. The first death had happened after she’d hired Alice. An image of the young girl leaving Ida Perkins’s room suddenly appeared in her mind. And she’d reported Mrs. Lacy’s death. What did any of them know about Alice?

Her knees felt so weak as she made her way to the nurses’ station and sat down next to Millicent who wrote busily in a chart. Should she go get Alice out of Ma’s room? But, no, Donald was there. Donald couldn’t hurt anyone. Could he? Could they be in on it together?

Stop it!
she screamed to herself.
You can’s suspect everyone you see from now on.
Her eyes slid to Millicent.
But,
a tiny voice said,
it could be anyone. Even more than one. Alice and Donald together, or Dr. Henderson, or even Millicent here. Anyone
.

“Millie, could you please call the agency we use in Sacramento and get a sitter for Ma? As soon as someone can come? I’m going to be with her until you get someone.”

Millicent glanced up from the chart, a startled expression on her face. “Of course, Betty. Is something wrong?”

On shaky legs, Betty got up. “I’m not sure. I’ll explain later.”

Millicent nodded as she reached for the phone and Betty returned to Ma’s room. She prayed the sitter would arrive in time.

Alice sat in the visitor’s chair in Betty Senior’s room and watched Donald stare out the window. The television’s sound was low, but bursts of canned laughter occasionally erupted, making Alice wince.

My name is Allison Armstrong. I know my name now. This should be one of the happiest days of my life. Why did Lettie have to have a stroke today? I never got to tell her my real name.

She knew who she was, but no one was doing anything about it. She needed to find out more. She felt as if she’d been sleepwalking since Donald picked her up on the side of the road, and she’d just awoke. Awake, but most of the dream still forgotten. Why couldn’t she remember everything at once?

Betty entered the room and rushed to her mother’s bedside. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“Peachy,” Betty Senior said. “Turn off the TV, will you?”

Betty punched the remote and said, “I guess I’d better explain what’s going on.” She sat down. “I believe Lettie was attacked. I further believe Ida Perkins and Mrs. Lacy were murdered. I’m getting a sitter for Ma until we can figure out what’s going on.”

Alice saw Betty staring at her with a strange, questioning expression.
She couldn’t think I had anything to do with it, could she?
She stared back at Betty, shocked about Lettie and scared of what Betty might be thinking.

Donald and Betty Senior both started asking questions in excited voices. Alice couldn’t distinguish what they were saying because her ears had begun to ring. As her vision grayed, she gripped the arms of the chair, willing herself not to faint. She could barely hear the rise and fall of their voices as she turned her head away and remembered.

In the kitchen, her father removed the pictures from an envelope while Allison and her grandparents watched.

When Nana saw them, she grabbed the photos and dashed to the laundry room, everyone following closely behind. A measure of lye soap in water sat ready to go into the washer. She threw the pictures into the cup. The family watched as the lye bubbled and the pictures shriveled and started to dissolve.

Sam, her father, moved then, grabbing the pistol her grandfather had placed on the table after hearing a commotion in the yard and rushing outside to see. Just a stray dog trying to get into the chicken coop. Grandpa fired a couple of shots, and the dog ran off, tail between its legs.

“Now, son,” Grandpa said. “Put that down.”

“Why should I? How could you have done it? Both of you? How could you?” His voice caught, but the gun did not waver. It was pointed at his father’s chest.

“Look,” Nana said, “we all know what kind of a woman Mindy was. Pregnant before you married her and all the time flirting.”

“So that justifies what happened to her?”

“No, it was an accident.” Nana looked at Grandpa, who had turned a sickly gray.

“Rape isn’t an accident,” Sam said.

“No, but she—”

“No buts. And what about my going to prison for what you both did?”

“Your mother wouldn’t have survived a trial and possibly going to jail herself. When it happened, we didn’t know they’d blame you. Don’t you see it was the only way?”

Sam shook his head. “And that’s why you didn’t want me here. I’d remind you. But you,” he said and turned toward his mother, “you felt guilty and wanted to make it up to me. Oh, my God.” The gun wavered.

Suddenly, without a sound, Grandpa grabbed his chest and fell forward. As he went to his knees, Nana rushed to him.

The gunshot reverberated loudly in the small washroom. Allison stared, horrified, as her grandmother, face blown partly away, crumpled slowly to the floor in a heap beside Grandpa. For a moment, neither Allison nor her father moved. Then Sam went to his father and felt for a pulse.

“He’s dead,” he said, his voice flat, but his eyes wild. “They’re both dead. Come on, we have to get out of here.” He took her arm and pulled her away.

He rushed her upstairs. “Get a suitcase and throw some clothes in it. Hurry.” He dashed off toward his room, and Allison went into hers and took a bag from her closet. As she filled it with clothes, she tried to think, but her mind felt numb. Shouldn’t they call the police?

In the bathroom, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, then quickly turned away. Her skin was chalk white, her eyes huge. The bright silver, dangly earrings she had bought at Walmart, along with the orange lipstick she wore, made her appear clownish. She took off the earrings and put them in her jeans pocket. After scrubbing at her lips with a tissue, she went to her father’s room.

He threw a duffel bag over his shoulder, and he grunted at her as he motioned her toward the stairs. Sam grabbed her suitcase, she took her purse, and they left out the front, not going through the washroom.

“Alice?” Donald’s voice brought her back. “Alice, are you all right?”

She turned toward him and shook her head. She felt the hot tears pouring down her face.

“I remember more,” she whispered. “It’s horrible.”

“Tell us,” Betty said in a gentle voice, reaching out to pat her arm.

“My father killed my grandmother. Shot her! I don’t know why. It had something to do with my mother, but I still can’t remember her at all.” All three of them were staring at her, and she suddenly realized how awful it sounded, especially the way she’d blurted it out. Covering her mouth with her hand, she looked away from the horrified faces.

Betty removed her hand from Alice’s arm. Donald took her hand and squeezed it. “I don’t think it will be long now before you remember everything.”

“That’s right,” Betty Senior said from her bed. “You’re remembering more and more now, Alice.”

Alice wondered if that was good or bad.

“It seems whenever you receive a shock, you recall something new,” Betty said. “I want you to remember more, but I certainly hope there won’t be any more surprises.” She glanced at her watch with an impatient expression on her face. “When is that sitter going to get here?”

“If you have things to do, Betty, Alice and I can stay awhile,” Donald said.

Betty shook her head.
She doesn’t trust me anymore,
Alice thought.

“Are we going to check out anything more about my name today?” Alice asked timidly.

“Of course we are,” Betty replied. “As soon as the sitter gets here, I’ll call my nephew.”

As if on cue, a tall woman carrying a tan tote bag and a big black handbag knocked lightly on the doorjamb and entered the room. She had steel-gray hair, pale blue eyes, and a tiny pursed mouth. Wearing a black dress and black shoes, she looked like the Wicked Witch of the West. Her nose was straight, though, and her voice surprisingly soft.

“Is this Betty Cranston’s room?” she asked.

Both Betty’s said, “Yes.”

The sitter put her tote and purse on the floor and held out her hand.

Betty stood up and shook it. “I’m Betty Cranston, director of nurses. This is my mother, also Betty. The young lady is Alice St—, I mean Allison Armstrong.” She pointed at Donald and introduced him.

“Eva Britton. I’m glad to meet you all.”

Eva went to Betty Senior’s bedside and asked, “How are you, dear? Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Not right now,” Betty Senior replied.

“I need you to sit with my mother and not leave this room until you are relieved. There’s a private bathroom through this door.” Betty opened the door partway. “Tell me what you’d like for dinner, and I’ll bring it to you. I’ll come at the end of your shift to meet the next sitter.”

Eva nodded. “No problem. Something from the dining room will be fine.”

“You understand that I don’t want you to leave this room for any reason whatsoever? If the fire alarm goes off, close the door—it’s fireproof, of course, and if necessary, you and Ma can exit through the window. I am, frankly, worried about Ma’s safety, and I don’t want her to be alone for even a minute. Is this clear?”

“Perfectly,” Eva said. “You can rely on me.”

“I’m sure I can,” Betty said. “I’ll be back with your dinner and to see how things are going. Ma, you rest. Everything will be all right now.”

“Don’t you worry about me. With Eva here, I’ll be fine.”

Alice heard the quaver in her voice, though. Impulsively, she stood and bent down to whisper in Betty Senior’s ear, “I’ll come check on you, too, when I can.”

The older woman smiled. “You come tell me the minute you remember anything more!”

“I will,” Alice said.

“All right, then,” Betty said. “I need to make an important phone call. Ma, I’m calling Jared about all this, and about Alice, too.”

“Good idea,” Betty Senior replied.

As they left the room, Alice could hear her say to Eva, “Turn on the TV, will you? And I need some water. I’m so thirsty all the time, it seems.”

In Betty’s office, the three of them sat down, and Betty dialed the police station.

“He what?” she practically shouted. “What do you mean he went to San Francisco for the weekend? I spoke to him this morning. Oh. Oh, I see. Well, that rascal didn’t tell me. Thanks for your time.” She hung up the phone with some force and frowned at Alice and Donald. “He’s gone until Monday. Took his wife and left on the spur of the moment right after lunch. Phooey. No one else on that country-bumpkin force will do anything. Too busy giving speeding tickets and drinking coffee. Damn. Alice, I’m sorry. I don’t know who else to ask.”

Alice felt a lump form in her throat. She had so hoped today she’d get more answers. Now she’d have to wait until at least Monday.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Donald said and stood up. “We might as well go visit Hannah now, and we can check on Lettie, too.”

Betty nodded. “I’d go with you, but I’m staying close to Merry Hills today.”

“Don’t blame you,” Donald said. “Come on, Alice, let’s go. I’m sorry you couldn’t learn more today. Betty, we’ll be back as soon as we can. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Betty stood up and walked with them to the front door. In the parking lot, Alice turned to see her staring at them. Alice waved, and Betty lifted her hand in response, then turned around and went back inside. A funny feeling went through Alice as she got into the car.

I wonder where my father is right now
, she thought, buckling her seat belt.
Is he in prison, or is he searching for me? He must wonder what happened to me
.

Both Alice and Donald spoke little on the way to Sacramento. Once in a while, Alice wanted to say something, but she bit it back. Donald’s silence unnerved her. She had become used to his trying to get her to talk, asking her questions, encouraging her.

She was glad when they got to the exit for Sacramento General. She wanted to see Hannah and wondered how Lettie was doing.