Blackout (29 page)

“How nice to see you. Let Alice sit there,” she told the sitter.

The little woman got up, fluttering like a bird, gathering up her needlework and dropping a magazine. Finally she managed to get both herself and her things out of the way, and Alice sat down in the chair. She caught the look of disdain for the sitter on Betty Senior’s face as she said, “You can wait outside the door. I’d like to talk to Alice alone for a few minutes.”

The sitter began to protest. “I’m not supposed to leave, you know,” she chirped. “Ms. Cranston warned me—”

“It’s my room. I’m telling you to skedaddle. Out!”

The little woman’s head and arms jerked, and she looked beseechingly at Alice. Alice shrugged. She thought Betty Senior could do what she wanted.

“I shouldn’t leave,” the sitter muttered as she went toward the door. “I’ll get fired.” The door opened and closed with a whoosh, and she was gone.

Betty Senior laughed, then quickly sobered. “Tell me, Alice, if you’ve remembered any more? I’m so anxious for you to know all about yourself. You see, here I am, unable to move anything but my head. But it’s the most important part of me! I can remember, relive, everything. So, you and I are somewhat alike. My body is paralyzed. Your mind is in the same state. Hopefully you’ll recover. I never will.” No self-pity clouded her voice.

Alice admired her more than ever. She relaxed a bit. She didn’t know what to say. She felt sure anything she told Betty Senior would find Betty Junior’s ear.

She was saved from having to make a decision by the door’s opening. Betty came into the room in three strides and stood by her mother’s bedside. Two young men in police uniforms followed her. Betty barely glanced at Alice before speaking sharply to Betty Senior.

“Why’d you let that sitter leave the room?” she demanded.

“I didn’t let her leave,” Betty Senior said calmly. “I told her to go.”

“You what? You know why she’s here!”

Alice cringed. She could tell Betty still suspected her. But how had she known the sitter had left? She must have seen her outside in the hall.

“I never should have let you install the video—”

“Quiet!” Betty interrupted, turning red. “I can’t believe your mouth.”

Alice felt her face grow warm. She looked around the room for a video camera, but didn’t see one. Slowly, she stood up as Betty still glared at her mother.

“I’d better leave,” she mumbled.

Betty said, “I want you to meet my nephew, Jerod. He’s the one I contacted about locating your family.”

“Hello,” Alice said shyly.

“It’s nice to meet you, finally, Allison,” he replied and smiled at her. He had a nice smile—even, white teeth in a tanned face. “And how are you, Grandma?” he asked Betty Senior.

“No change from the last time you were here, Jerod. How’s the family?”

“They’re all fine.

“Who’s this with you?”

Jerod introduced Allen to Betty Senior and Alice. Allen appeared ill at ease and quickly excused himself.

“Not used to old folks or nursing homes, is he?” Betty Senior asked as the door closed behind him.

“I guess not,” Jerod said, then turned to Alice. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

“All right.”

“Take her to the family dining room, Jerod. You know where that is?”

“I think so.”

“I do,” Alice said.

“Okay, off you go,” Betty said as if shooing chickens out of the yard.

Jerod held the door for Alice. As they went down the corridor, Alice noticed everyone staring. She became embarrassed as she realized they thought she’d done something wrong since she was walking with a uniformed policeman.

Finally, they reached the small dining room. The chandelier gleamed overhead, and when Jerod closed the door, all sounds from the hallway stopped. They each pulled heavy chairs away from the shiny table and sat down opposite one another. After they were settled, Alice said, “I guess you haven’t found my daddy?”

“I’m afraid not,” Jerod said as he got out pad and pen and placed them on the table. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me find him.”

“How would I be able to do that?” She wet her lips with her tongue, suddenly wishing for a glass of water.

“By telling me everything you remember. Aunt Betty told me about your amnesia, so I don’t expect a lot of details, but every little bit helps.”

She wondered suddenly if there was more to this than him being helpful, just doing a favor for his aunt. She couldn’t ask him, though. She studied him a moment, but his face gave nothing away.

Be careful,
she cautioned herself.
Until you find out what Dad is doing, don’t tell him any more than you’ve already told Betty
. A feeling of panic overcame her as she realized she wasn’t sure exactly what she had and hadn’t said. If she didn’t tell Jerod everything she’d mentioned to his aunt, he’d suspect she held more back.

Alice clenched her hands in her lap and said, “I don’t remember a whole lot. Only bits and pieces.”

“I understand that,” Jerod said.

She took a deep breath. “All right. Where should I start?”

He clicked his pen and said, “Maybe we should go backward. From the accident.”

“Okay.” She unclenched her hands and grasped the chair arms. She knew she’d told Betty about that. “I remember we were going fast on a twisting road. Then I saw a tree ahead, and we were heading straight toward it. My dad fought with the wheel. I think I screamed. Then we hit the tree. The door on my side came open, and I rolled down a long hill. It seemed to last forever.” Alice fidgeted a moment before continuing. “The next thing I remember is walking along a road. I didn’t know who I was or where to go. I didn’t remember that my dad might be still in the truck, hurt, or dying.” She paused to swallow hard again. “Then Donald stopped and gave me a ride.”

“And you told him your name was Alice Strong. Why did you make that up?”

“I was afraid. Afraid if I told anyone I didn’t remember anything, even my name, something terrible would happen to me. I didn’t know exactly what it would be, but I knew it would be awful. Later I remembered my grandmother used to threaten to put me away in a… a sanatorium—I think that’s the word?” After Jerod nodded, she continued. “So, I didn’t tell anyone for a long time I had amnesia. I finally told your Aunt Betty when I found Mrs. Lacy. It reminded me of things, shocked me into remembering, I guess.”

“So, you haven’t been in touch with any family since the accident because you couldn’t remember who they are?”

Alice thought a moment before answering. “That’s right. And except for my dad, I think they’re all dead. And I don’t know about him. You haven’t found out anything?” She held her breath while waiting for him to answer.

“Afraid not. We think we found the truck, but no one was in it.”

“That means he was okay enough to walk away!”

“Looks that way,” Jerod said, staring at her, his eyes seeming to pierce her with their blueness. “Now, let’s go back to what you remember before the wreck.”

“Didn’t Betty tell you?” Alice asked, hoping he’d let her know what Betty had said.

“Some. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her much about it.”

“Oh,” Alice said.

An uncomfortable silence hung over them for a moment. At least it felt awkward to Alice. Maybe Jerod didn’t care. Maybe he used it to get her to say more, or too much. Why didn’t she trust him? Her palms felt damp, her mouth so dry she thought when she did speak, the words would come out in a croak.

Finally, she said, “What I remember is mostly a jumble, and I’m not sure any of it’s true.” She wished desperately she could have talked to her father before having this conversation.

A tap sounded on the door, and Allen poked his head in. “Have to get back to the station,” he said to Jerod. “The chief needs us.”

A frown of annoyance crossed Jerod’s face, but he closed his notebook and stood up. Alice got up on shaky legs.

Jerod and Allen said good-bye to her and left the room. They went down the hall at a fast clip while Alice headed in the opposite direction. She didn’t want them to see her and think of something else to ask before they left.

As she passed the 400 wing’s nurse’s station, she saw Mrs. Zimmer duck inside to answer the insistently ringing phone.

“Hello. Hello,” Mrs. Zimmer yelled. “Who is this? What do you want, anyway?”

Mrs. Zimmer was about to hang up when Alice reached her and gently took the receiver. “I’ll get it,” Alice yelled into Mrs. Zimmer’s ear so she could hear her.

“Good, good,” the old woman muttered as she shuffled away, her chenille bathrobe flapping against her bare ankles. “Damn phone. Never should have been invented. Have to answer it, though. Might be important.”

The caller wanted to speak to one of the nurses. Alice found one, then continued down the hall toward the activity room. She thought about her dad again and didn’t notice Brenda until they almost bumped into one another.

“You seem frazzled,” Brenda commented.

“I guess I am,” Alice said. They stood next to the beauty shop. The hallway was crowded with ladies in wheelchairs waiting to get their hair done. The smell of perm solution wafted in the air. Carefully, Brenda and Alice edged away toward the activities room and Brenda’s office.

“What’s going on?” Brenda asked. “I saw you with that policeman. You’re not in any trouble, are you?” She touched Alice’s arm, concern in her voice.

“I don’t think so,” Alice replied. “Oh, I don’t know what to do.” She put her hand over her eyes. She would not cry. She refused to cry. She took her hand away from her face and stared at the wallpaper as they walked, being careful not to stumble.

Brenda took her arm and led her into her office, shutting the door behind them. “Here, sit down,” she said, helping Alice into the visitor’s chair. She went behind her desk and sat herself, then leaned forward, frowning slightly. “Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

Everything poured out of Alice. She couldn’t help herself. She felt flustered, upset, anxious, depressed and, most of all, afraid. The sense of foreboding increased as she told Brenda everything. She worried about her father and about herself. Could they think she might have shot her grandmother? If they never found her father, would they accuse her of it? She didn’t voice these concerns to Brenda, but she did tell her all she could remember.

When she finished, Brenda leaned back in her chair and said, “So, they killed your mother, too.”

“What do you mean?” Alice asked.

Brenda didn’t meet her eyes. Instead, she stared over her head as if seeing something else. A look of horror briefly crossed her face, then the muscles went slack, and she gazed at Alice again.

“You poor thing. I know what you’ve gone through,” Brenda said in her Social Services Director voice.

Alice realized the tone sounded false somehow. She hadn’t noticed it before. A forced, upbeat cadence made Brenda seem somewhat like a cheerleader. But when she’d said, “So, they killed your mother, too,” the tone had been flat. Dead. Alice shivered.

“What do you mean?” Alice asked again.

Brenda looked at her straight on now. “My mother was murdered, too. Murdered right here at Merry Hills.”

“No!” Alice exclaimed, confused. Did she mean Mrs. Lacy or Ida Perkins? That couldn’t be right.

“Yes. They didn’t take care of her, and she died. It was as bad as if they’d put a pillow over her face and held it there, and held it there…”

Alice jumped out of her chair, her whole body trembling. “Stop,” she said. “Please stop.”

“What?” Brenda seemed to come out of a trance. “Sit down,” she said sharply. When Alice didn’t do so immediately, Brenda barked again, “Sit!”

Shaking, Alice eased herself into the chair, scared, wondering what to do.

“I’m going to tell you about it,” Brenda said dreamily, “so you won’t think you’re the only girl to lose her mother.”

Alice nodded jerkily and clasped her hands in front of her.

“It was a sad day when I had to admit Mom into Merry Hills. She’d always taken care of me, and when she got so sick, I couldn’t take care of her. I felt terrible, just terrible. You can understand that, can’t you?”

Alice nodded again, afraid to speak.

“She couldn’t eat anymore. Had to have a feeding tube. I wasn’t qualified to take care of that, of course, and she needed other kinds of care, too. Had to be turned every two hours, her bed and diapers changed. I wasn’t physically able to do any of that.”

Alice must have seemed puzzled.

Brenda answered her unasked question. “I was enormous. Way over four hundred pounds. I couldn’t do anything strenuous. Could barely walk. So we came here, to Merry Hills. And they killed her.”

Alice shook her head, unbelieving. She tried to imagine Brenda that fat, but couldn’t. “What do you mean, they killed her?” she ventured. “How?”

“With bad care, of course. She got weaker and weaker. Then one day she fell out of bed and broke her hip. She got pneumonia and died. It never should have happened.”

“Was Betty here then?” Alice asked.

“Oh, yes. She’d just been transferred. Everyone said how wonderful she was, how the home would be even better with her on board. Well, she has all the higher-ups fooled, but not me. No, not me. I know what she’s really like. She didn’t care about me or my mother. I vowed I’d make her pay. And I have been by making other patients die. But I’m not done yet. No, not finished, yet.”

She stared over Alice’s head again. Alice didn’t know what to do. She wanted to get out of the room, out of the building. She felt as if the walls were closing in on her. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. She’d never doubted Betty was a good director of nurses. But, she’d thought Brenda was good at her job, too, and she’d trusted her. She’d trusted both of them.

Brenda continued to stare at the wall, and Alice slowly started to stand up.

“Stay where you are,” Brenda said sharply. “Don’t you want to know how I got here and why no one knows who I really am?”

“I…I guess so,” Alice said as she sat back down, slowly, reluctantly.

“Well, after Mom died,” Brenda began, “I became so depressed I started losing weight. I went back to school to finish my degree in Social Work. When Mom had gotten sick, I had to drop out, but she left me enough money to finish and to get my nose fixed and my teeth straightened. All the time, I kept losing weight. It wasn’t so hard. I stayed busy with my studies, and when I had the operation on my nose I lost another twenty-five pounds. Then when they put the braces in, it hurt to eat sometimes.”