Chasing Chaos: A Novel (20 page)

“Tracking
your location now. Please stay on the line.”

“I
have to hang up soon. I have to call my brother.”

“Please
stay on the line.”

“Wait.
I know what street we’re on.” She told the operator the name of the street.
“Just turn left off of Laurel Canyon, and you’ll find us.”

“Miss,
please stay on the line.”

“Please
find us, OK? I’ll call you right back.”

She
hung up. She dialed Marlon.

~~~~

Marlon
was standing next to Daphne when his phone rang. He hadn’t left her side the
entire evening after watching Dan hand his ticket to valet. He wanted to meet
all of her friends. He wanted to get to know Timmy and Greta better. He knew
them pretty well, but not as well as Daphne did. He wanted to be a part of
every part of her life. He just wanted in.

He
pulled his phone from his pocket. It was Carrie. Strange. Why would she be
calling him from the same party? Worry kicked into high gear before he even
answered the phone. He stepped out onto the deck for some privacy.

“Carrie?”
He answered the call.

“Marlon.”
She sounded like she was barely awake. “I need your help.”

Suddenly
Marlon was no longer standing in the middle of a wedding reception. He was
alone in a bleak room, and the silence of that room was deafening. “Carrie. I
can barely hear you. Where are you? What happened?”

“Car
wreck. I’m by the side of the road. Dan’s still in the car. He’s not OK.” She
was crying. “I don’t know where I am exactly. Not far from Sandy’s.” She told
him the road she was on, where she thought she might be. “I called 911 and told
them where I was, but I wanted to call you too.”

“I’m
coming right now. Hang up and call 911 back.” He was frantic. “I’ll be there.”

“OK.
I’m pretty sleepy though. I might be sleeping on the side of the road.”

“Carrie?”
He shouted into the phone. “Don’t fall asleep!”

“What?
OK.”

“Call
911. And stay awake.”

Marlon
stopped feeling anything. Even panic had fled. He stepped back into house. He
scanned the room. He spied Sandy. He made his way through the crowd, vaguely
noticing that he bumped a few shoulders along the way. He didn’t care.

Sandy
saw him coming and excused himself from a conversation. “What is it?”

“It’s
Carrie. She’s up in the canyon somewhere. A car accident. I need to borrow your
car.”

“Yes,
of course. But Marlon,” Sandy said, “my car is in the garage. It’ll take thirty
minutes to get it out.”

At
Sandy’s words, Marlon let out a frustrated roar.

~~~~

Daphne
heard Marlon yell. Everyone heard him yell. She dashed across the room to where
he was talking with Sandy.

“What’s
happened?”

Marlon
turned his gray eyes on her, and she didn’t recognize him at all. “This is all
your fucking fault,” he said to her in a low voice, turning his back.

“Sandy?”
She was shocked by Marlon’s anger at her and by the fear that she could see
driving his anger.

“Carrie’s
been in a car accident,” Sandy explained. “We don’t know where she is. Dan was
driving.”

Daphne
thought of Dan’s stupid MG, thought of him driving it too fast in the dark
hills, and she went cold.

“Marlon
needs to get to her,” Sandy said. “But my car’s blocked in.”

“I’m
not,” Daphne said. “I parked up the street. Marlon,” she called to him.
“Marlon, listen to me. My car is out on the street. We can leave right this
second.”

She
touched his arm, and he jerked away from her like she was a viper.

“Please,
Marlon,” she begged. “Let me take you to her.”

He
looked past her face, refusing to meet her eyes. “OK. Let’s go.”

“I
just have to grab my keys. Meet me by the door.”

Marlon
stormed off.

She
turned back to Sandy. “Whatever happens, make sure Greta and Timmy don’t find
out. Protect them. Send them on their honeymoon.” She was begging him. “In
fact, send them now. Keep them safe from this.”

“I’ll
do what I can.”

Daphne
ran to the bedroom where she and Greta had dressed and grabbed her purse. She
stepped out onto Sandy’s front porch to find Marlon there, his eyes cold. She
slipped her high heels from her feet. “Come on.” She took off running.

They
reached her car and hopped in. She started the engine, tossing her shoes into
the back seat. She pulled onto the road, heading up into the canyon at a pace
she thought Marlon would like.

“Daphne.”
Marlon’s voice was eerily calm. “Drive as fast as you can.”

So
she did, downshifting to pick up speed, taking corners fast. They turned onto
the street Carrie had given Marlon on the phone, a long and winding street, not
knowing how far up the hill the wreck would be. She slowed down. Marlon scanned
the roadside.

Then
they saw it, there in the dark. Dan’s crumpled MG roadster was bent around a
tree, and Dan still sat behind the wheel, unmoving. There, on the side of the
road, Carrie was curled in a little ball, clutching her cell phone in her hand,
its screen still lit. Carrie, though, was unconscious.

Daphne
parked so her headlights shone on the wreck, and she and Marlon flew from her
car. Daphne dialed 911 and gave their precise location, as Marlon ran to
Carrie. She was lying in the dirt on the road’s narrow shoulder.

Marlon
knelt at Carrie’s side, draping his suit coat over her seminude body. Daphne
hung up with the 911 operator and ran over to Carrie, noticing her torn dress,
her bare feet. Marlon ran his hand over Carrie’s forehead, calling her name in
a quiet voice, and she stirred.

“I’m
here, Cee-Cee,” he said. “You’re safe.”

Marlon
looked up at Daphne. “This is your fault.”

“I
know.”

Sirens
shrieked in the distance.

Daphne
stepped over to the car. The tree had stopped the car from tumbling down a
steep incline. For that, despite the damage the tree had inflicted on the car,
she was grateful. She neared Dan, who looked lifeless. She reached to touch his
back and hoped for life. She felt warmth, a beating heart. She exhaled. A death
on her hands would be too much to bear.

Daphne
noticed objectively that her bare feet were cut from walking across broken
glass and other wreckage. She couldn’t feel her feet though. She couldn’t feel
anything.

She
could only see. Carrie’s still form. Dan’s bloody face. The hatred in Marlon’s
eyes.

Paramedics
arrived, and the police. So many men and women wearing different sorts of
uniforms, all rushing about, working, doing, saving. They asked Daphne some
questions. She answered as best as she could.

She
didn’t have many answers.

When
she saw that Carrie was awake on her stretcher, Daphne walked away from the
questioners. Carrie was even smiling at Marlon. Carrie was talking to a police
officer. Marlon was scowling. Marlon was scowling at Daphne. But Daphne was
standing close to Carrie, and she didn’t want to leave Carrie’s side.

Then
the police officer pointed at Carrie’s torn dress. “Did anything else happen
tonight?”

“What
do you mean?” Carrie asked.

“Are
there other injuries we can help you with?” The police officer was a woman, one
who seemed kind.

Carrie
dropped her head before she spoke. “There was a man at the party. Jamison. It
was his house.” Carrie paused, as though gathering courage. “He attacked me in
the bathroom. He tore my dress.” She looked at Daphne then. “It wasn’t Dan,”
Carrie said, emphatically. “Dan came to drive me home.”

“All
right,” said the police officer. “We can talk about that later after you’ve
been patched up.”

“How’s
Dan?” Carrie asked the police officer.

“We
can talk about that later too,” the police officer said.

And
then Carrie was gone in the back of an ambulance, and the ambulance burned
Daphne’s eyes with its lights and burned her ears with its sirens as it flew
around the curve that had destroyed Dan’s car.

Dan
was being loaded into the back of another ambulance. But Dan had never woken
up, even after the paramedics strapped him to a board and lifted him high. Dan
never even stirred. Daphne stood next to his still, bloody form, his nose
swollen to twice its normal size, a cut on his forehead still pumping blood.

And
then Dan was gone too. More lights, more sirens.

The
police officer spoke to Daphne and Marlon, then. “We will stay to assess the
scene and handle the wreckage. So long as we have your contact information, you
two are free to go.”

Free.

“Drive
me to the hospital,” Marlon snarled in her ear. “Fast.”

Daphne
pulled into the parking lot at Cedars-Sinai and whipped her car into a parking
space. Marlon opened his door before she’d even killed the engine. Together,
they ran into the hospital. Only after they’d passed through the sliding glass
doors and the metal detectors did Daphne realize she was still barefoot.

Marlon
dashed to the information desk to ask where they had taken Carrie.

Daphne
looked around her and froze. This was the same room she’d stood in five years
before. Five years before, she’d frantically run in, chasing the life of
another girl, praying she’d be OK. There was the same long desk. There was the
same metal door blocking her way.

Last
time, she’d been praying for Greta’s life.

This
time, she prayed for Carrie and for Dan.

Daphne’s
world flipped one way, toward the past, and then flipped again, back to the
present.

Marlon
stalked back to her, anger and fear in his every step. Daphne knew Marlon would
never look at her with anything but anger ever again. For a moment, she
mourned.

“Carrie’s
been taken to a room here in the emergency department,” he said. “I’m meeting
her there.”

“I’ll
come with you,” Daphne said.

“No.”
He held up his hand to stop her. “You won’t.” He looked at her with such fury
that Daphne took a step back. “You put her in danger just by breathing.”

Daphne
nodded. She couldn’t refute him.

“Never
come near my family again,” he said.

“OK,”
she said.

He
turned to leave her there.

“Did
you find out where Dan is?” she asked.

“Upstairs.
Surgery,” Marlon tossed over his shoulder.

He
passed through the big metal door to find his sister, leaving Daphne alone.

She
stood in the emergency waiting room, staring at the metal door that led to
where Carrie and Marlon would be meeting, a meeting she was barred from, a
family she would never be a part of in any fashion no matter what she and
Marlon had shared this week. Marlon was gone. Gone.

And
Dan might be dying.

Daphne
looked upward frantically, searching for the signs that would direct her to the
surgical wing. She dashed to an elevator, rode up. She stepped off the
elevator, emerging in a sterile hallway. In front of her was a desk. Behind the
desk sat a man in scrubs, tapping at a computer.

“I’m
looking for a patient,” she said, out of breath. “He was just in a car wreck.”

“Name?”
the man asked.

Daphne
told him.

“Are
you family?” the man asked her.

“I’m
a friend. He doesn’t have any family here.”

“Wait
there,” he said, pointing to a gathering of chairs. “I’ll let a surgical nurse
know you’re here.”

The
man picked up a phone while Daphne found a place to sit. She chose a chair that
gave her a view out of the tall windows, of the lights of the city spreading
below her. The chair also gave her a view of the two large double doors that
led, she presumed, to the operating rooms.

No
one else waited in the small seating area. She was alone. She found that odd.
No one else’s life was at risk tonight, at least not in this wing of the giant
hospital.

With
a pneumatic whoosh, the two large double doors opened, and a woman in blue
scrubs and a surgical cap emerged. She was pulling a mask from her face.

Daphne
surged to her feet, the cold linoleum touching her bare toes causing her to
shiver. She squeezed her purse in her hands to force her body to still.

The
nurse approached Daphne. When she noticed Daphne’s bare feet, she frowned. She
called to the man behind the counter. “Can we get her a pair of socks?”

The
man nodded and bustled away down a hall.

The
surgical nurse turned her attention back to Daphne. “You’re here for Mr.
Morello?”

“Yes.
Dan. I’m here for him.”

“Are
you family?”

“No.”

“Does
he have any family here?”

“No
one in California. They live far away.”

“Are
you his girlfriend?”

Daphne
considered lying. Considered misrepresenting her relationship with Dan in hopes
of getting better information. But she found she couldn’t lie when her friends’
lives were on the line.

“I
was,” she said. “Now we’re friends.” Even that was a small lie. Was she friends
with Dan?

Yes,
Daphne told herself firmly. They would have figured out a way to become friends
again. He’d been angry with her. Hurt. But he wasn’t a monster. She knew the
difference.

She’d
known some real monsters in her life.

Her
mind flashed to Carrie’s face, when she’d been on the stretcher, looking in her
lap, describing an attack in a bathroom.

“He’s
in surgery,” the nurse said.

Daphne’s
attention jerked back to the present.

“I’ll
be honest,” the nurse said. “It’s touch and go right now.”

Daphne
nodded.

“His
car didn’t provide much protection, and he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

“It
was an old MG,” Daphne said. “A stupid, stupid car.” She was angry at Dan’s
vanity in choosing to drive the old tin can and his stupidity in forgoing his
seatbelt.

“There’s
some spinal cord damage and damage to his skull. Plus, he was severely
intoxicated—alcohol and cocaine,” the nurse said, her tone perfectly neutral.
“The drugs can complicate things.”

Daphne
nodded and nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

“We’re
doing everything we can. I’ll update you as things progress.”

The
surgical nurse waved a key card near a scanner on the wall. The big doors
opened once again.

“Here,”
a man said.

Daphne
jumped back, startled. The man from behind the counter, a nursing tech she saw
from his name tag, was handing her a pair of socks. They were plush, with
grippy material on the soles.

“Thank
you.” She sat to pull on the socks.

“Wait,”
the tech said. “Your feet are a mess.”

“No,
they’re fine.”

“I’m
serious. There’s blood on the floor. A lot.” He took a step toward her. “Let me
help you.”

She
leaned back in her chair, holding out her hands to keep him at bay. “Please.
Just let me be.”

He
nodded. “But I have to clean up the blood. It’s a biohazard.”

While
he scrubbed her blood from the floor, she pulled the socks on her feet. Warmth
spread through her body. She looked at her navy blue dress, tattered now,
perhaps bloodstained, but she chose not to think about what could be staining
her dress. Instead, she stared at the lights blinking on outside the windows
and hoped and prayed. She prayed for Dan and for Carrie.

After
minutes or hours, Daphne couldn’t tell, the surgical nurse emerged from the
wide double doors.

Daphne
glanced at her watch. That couldn’t be right. She had only been waiting thirty
minutes. Thirty minutes that had felt eternal, but thirty minutes nonetheless.

Daphne
fixed her eyes on the face of the nurse as she reached behind her head to untie
her mask. And then another person caught Daphne’s attention. Another person passed
through the doors, wearing darker scrubs and a floral surgical cap. The way
this new woman carried herself, Daphne could tell she was the surgeon.

Daphne
could infer what it meant when the surgeon came out after thirty minutes of
surgery. Someone had died.

No
one else was in the waiting room but Daphne.

They
were sorry to inform her. They had done all that they could. The damage was too
severe, especially to the cervical spine and skull.

“Do
you have information for Mr. Morello’s next of kin?” the surgeon asked her.

“Next
of kin?” Daphne asked. She couldn’t understand what they were asking her. She
couldn’t make out their words in a world where Dan was dead, and it was her
fault he had died.

“We
need to notify Mr. Morello’s family. We thought you might be able to provide
contact information.”

“I
can’t right now,” she said. “But I can get it for you. I just have to run
home.”

“There’s
no rush,” the surgeon said. “If we have to wait till morning to make the call,
that’s OK. In fact, it’s probably better.”

Daphne
tried to imagine waiting till morning to hear about a loved one who had been
dead all night.

Dead,
and no one knowing except the woman who had caused it to happen.

“You’re
just going to let his parents wait all night while their son lies here dead?”

The
two women locked eyes for a moment.

“What’s
your name?” the surgeon asked.

“Daphne.
Daphne Saito.”

“Daphne.
This is how it goes. I’ll call his parents in the morning and explain what
happened. Then a social worker from the hospital will help them make travel
plans to come here or will help them arrange to move the deceased to where they
live. But we can’t do any of these things at ten o’clock at night.”

“OK,”
Daphne said. “That makes sense.” That was all she could think to say.

Daphne
didn’t know how to take care of dead people.

“Come
back in the morning around nine. Bring his family’s information to this counter
right here. We’ll make the calls then.”

Daphne
nodded.

She
fell into a chair.

The
surgeon and the nurse turned and passed through the doors once more, gone.

Dan
was gone.

Once
Daphne was seated, she noticed the red creeping around the edges of her socks.
She peered at the bottoms of her feet, where the blood had soaked through the
fabric. She must be hurt worse than she’d thought. Suddenly, she could feel the
knifing pain in the soles of her feet.

She
couldn’t walk now if she’d wanted to.

She
called out to the tech behind the counter. She was crying, she realized. “Can
you help me?” she said, pointing to her bloody feet.

He
nodded, picking up a phone.

She,
too, picked up the phone. She dialed the only person she knew who’d been in
anything like this situation before.

“Daphne?”
Miranda said, tentatively.

“I
need your help.” Daphne tried to even out her voice and failed.

“What
and where,” Miranda said, leaping into action. She’d always been great in
emergencies. Daphne had forgotten that quality of hers.

“Cedars-Sinai
Hospital. Come to the emergency entrance. I have my car, but I don’t think I
can drive.”

“I’ll
be there in twenty.” Miranda sounded like she was already in motion. “Just hang
on.”

“Dan’s
dead. He died.”

Miranda
was silent for a moment. “I’m so sorry, Daphne.”

Daphne
hung up and stared at her bloody socks. After a few minutes, a voice spoke in
front of her.

“Are
you Daphne?” A doctor stood before her with a wheelchair. Her black hair was
pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had brown eyes and pale skin covered in
freckles. She seemed about thirty years old.

Daphne
nodded.

“Those
socks are supposed to be blue,” the doctor said. She talked fast.

“I’m
so sorry.” Daphne was weeping now. “I just didn’t notice.”

The
doctor helped Daphne into the wheelchair, placing her injured feet on the
footpads.

“I
heard you came in with that big accident tonight.” The doctor pushed Daphne
toward the elevator. Once inside, she hit the button that would take them down
to the emergency level.

“Yeah.”

“I
heard someone didn’t make it.”

“No.”
Daphne cried harder now. “He didn’t.”

The
doctor squeezed Daphne’s shoulder. “We’ve got to fix your feet. You probably
didn’t feel them because you were thinking about your friend. That sort of
thing makes me worried that you’re hurt elsewhere too.”

Daphne
thought of Carrie and Marlon. She was definitely hurt elsewhere.

“No,
I’m OK,” she said. “I wasn’t in the wreck. I just walked around barefoot to
help my friends.”

“You
were wearing high heels, huh?”

Daphne
laughed a bit through her tears. “Totally inappropriate footwear for an
emergency.”

“I’m
Dr. Murphy, but you can call me Tory. I’m a resident in emergency medicine.
I’ll get you cleaned up.” She leaned forward and looked at the bloody socks
again. “You might need stitches though. Stitches mean crutches.”

“I
called a friend to come help me.”

“Good.
Tell me his name, and I’ll have the front desk people send him straight back.”