Come Home (11 page)

She thought of the lesson she’d taught Abby, that all deductive reasoning was the same, a process designed to find the truth. When Jill ran a differential for a patient, she would systematically cross off diagnoses that weren’t supported by the data and keep those that were, testing as she went along, until she understood what was really going on. That was the reason she’d ordered the blood test for Rahul; if his results came back normal, as she expected, she’d have ruled out the more serious diagnoses.

Jill thought about it in traffic. If she could go to the pharmacy and rule out anything being wrong with the scripts, she could put to bed Abby’s murder theory. So she reached for her purse and felt around for the yellow Post-it.

Chapter Thirteen

Jill cruised down Broad Street, going north in the driving rain. The boulevard bisected the city, and this stretch was lined with check-cashing agencies, empty storefronts, and used-car lots. Streetlights were broken, leaving entire blocks in darkness, and Jill tried to understand why William would have come here to fill the scripts. She saw the
BROAD STREET PHARMACY
sign ahead and scanned in the darkness for a parking space. One opened up suddenly, and she braked to pull into it, but when she checked her rearview mirror, something strange caught her eye.

Mom, look in your mirror. There’s a padiddle behind us, one car back.

She blinked. There was a padiddle, two cars behind her. To double-check, she squinted at her outside mirror, and she could see the padiddle clearly, though raindrops dotted the mirror. It was two cars back, and it was also a black SUV, with the left light out and the same boxy grille, which was quite coincidental.

Jill’s mouth went dry. She hit the gas, drove past the drugstore, and turned right off Broad Street. The sidestreet was skinny and even darker, lined with rundown brick rowhomes and plenty of parking spaces. She pulled over, shut off the engine, and slid down in the driver’s seat to see if the SUV would follow her.

Her heart started to pound, and she felt scared and silly, both at once. Her eyes were glued to the outside mirror. A few minutes later, the padiddle appeared, driving fast. She ducked deep into her seat, let it pass, and popped up again. She couldn’t see the driver, but she caught the beginning of its license plate, and the first letter was a T.

Jill told herself to calm down, trying not to jump to conclusions. There would be no reason for anybody to be following her, and it would be dumb to follow anybody in a padiddle. Then she thought again. The driver might not know he had a headlight out, and maybe he’d started following Abby, then more recently started following her.

Jill started up the car, drove out of the space, took the next right, and backtracked three blocks, heading for the drugstore. She parked, chirped the car locked, grabbed her purse, and checked around her before she got out, but the SUV wasn’t anywhere in sight. She climbed out and hurried through the rain into the drugstore, more than a little spooked.

She hustled inside the bright-lit store, which was cold, empty, and dingy, with a tile floor that felt gritty under her pumps. She spotted herself on a security monitor, then hustled to the back where the pharmacy would be and got in line at the counter behind a young blonde mother, with a crying baby wrapped in a thin receiving blanket. There wasn’t a pharmacist on duty, just a young male clerk with gelled hair, whose pallor wasn’t helped by the fluorescent lights overhead.

“Is this a drop off?” the clerk asked the young mother, who was jiggling the baby while he cried.

“Can I see the pharmacist?”

“No, she’s gone for the night.”

“Then can you help me?” The woman held the baby close, but the crying didn’t stop. “My little boy’s teething, and my aunt said to rub brandy on his gums, but it doesn’t help.”

“You gotta go to the doctor. I’m not a doctor.”

“I don’t have one. I went to the ER, but it was too crowded. Can you just answer a question for me?”

“No, I just work here, sorry.”

Jill felt torn, knowing she wasn’t supposed to step in. The baby wasn’t her patient, and the Good Samaritan didn’t apply. But she wasn’t about to let a mother and child suffer, even if the system would. “Miss, maybe I can help you. I’m a pediatrician.”

“You, a doctor?” The young woman’s eyes lit up, an exhausted blue, and she had a neck tattoo with her name written in curlicued script. “He kept me up all night with his crying, and I can’t calm him down, no matter what.”

“Let me see his hand a second.” Jill checked his tiny hand, and he had a telltale rash. She didn’t even have to take the baby, because when he cried, he opened his mouth wide enough for her to see a blister on his tongue. “How did he sleep and eat, today?”

“Not much.”

“And he has a fever, I bet.”

“Last night it was 101, and he’s still warm, for sure.”

“Is he urinating, wetting his diapers?”

“Sure, all the time. I keep him changed, though. Nice and fresh, all the time.”

“Good for you, and it’s good that he’s not dehydrated. He’s not teething, he has coxackie virus.”

“Cock-a-what?” The mother frowned, understandably.

“It’s a virus that babies get in their mouth, and it’s also called hand, foot, and mouth disease. It’ll go away in ten days, but don’t give him any more brandy. Popsicles are great to give him fluids, and he’ll feel comfier on Tylenol. How old is he, eight months or so?”

“Yes, eight months.”

“How much does he weigh?” Jill couldn’t tell, he was so bundled up

“Twenty pounds.”

“Okay, then give him infant’s Tylenol. Use the dropper inside, and give him one full dropper.”

“I ran out,” the young mother answered, averting her eyes.

“Let me treat you to a bottle, okay?” Jill slipped her hand in her purse, pulled out her wallet, then handed a ten to the clerk. “This is for her Tylenol.”

“Okay.” The clerk pointed left. “It’s right there, top shelf.”

“Thank you.” The young mother smiled gratefully, at Jill. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome. He’ll be fine. Hang in with him.”

“Thanks again.” The mother hugged the baby and hurried down the aisle.

Jill faced the clerk. “Now, I need to see the waiver book.”

The clerk smiled slyly. “You a real doctor, lady?”

“Yes, now can I see the book?” Jill put down another twenty, and the clerk scooped it off the counter, then slid over the red plastic binder.

“You got it.”

“Thanks.” Jill flipped the pages, slowing when she got to the fifteenth, then scanned the printed names next to each customer, with their signatures. None were William, so she flipped one more page, and his name leapt out at her.
William Skyler.
Three script stickers were pasted in a row beneath the label, all filled at 12:03
A.M.
The signature was so messy she couldn’t even tell if it was forged. William’s handwriting was more slanted, but he could be sloppy, too, in a rush.

“Okay?” the clerk asked.

“You have a surveillance camera back here, don’t you? Most pharmacies do, and you have one at the front of the store. I saw it when I came in.”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I need to see the tape. For fifty bucks.”

“Sweet! Meet me in aisle eleven, near the soda. The office door is right here.”

“Thanks.” Jill turned right, headed back toward aisle eleven, and waited by the office door. Five minutes later, Jill had paid the clerk his fifty dollars and was standing with him in a cramped, filthy office stuffed with boxes. Video equipment sat stacked on an unpainted plywood shelf, under a small security monitor. The clerk aimed a remote control at the equipment, and the screen showed people zipping around in reverse. Their faces were small, but visible, and Jill was hoping that William had filled the scripts, so she could tell Abby and end this thing.

“Keep going?” the clerk asked, turning to her.

“Yes, all the way back to the twelfth.”

“You’re lucky, Doc. It only goes back a week, then it erases.”

Jill watched the people walking backward, at speed. The numbers of a digital clock were spinning on the screen, too fast to read. The pace of the surveillance film slowed, and the clock wound back from 2:00
A.M.
to 1:00
A.M.
The onscreen clerk was an attractive woman. Jill asked, “Is the clerk a pharmacist?”

“No, that’s Trisha. We don’t have a pharmacist on that late at night. We stay open for pickups only. The CVS down the block is twenty-four-hour, but we’re not. Okay, I’ll stop the tape now.” The clerk pressed a button on the remote. “Is that the dude?”

The screen froze, and Jill squinted at the grainy image, unsure if it was William. His face was obscured by aviator sunglasses, and a black ballcap hid his hair and forehead. He had on a nondescript windbreaker, and he was tall and broad-shouldered, like William and five million other men. Jill gestured at the screen. “I can’t tell, but how can you dispense narcotics to someone you can’t see? It looks like an obvious disguise.”

“You don’t know the wack jobs we get in here, Doc. They don’t look half as good as him.”

“Can you play the film slowly back and forth, one more time?”

“Sure.” The clerk did, and the man in the black ballcap went to and from the counter, in slow motion. He didn’t seem to talk to the clerk more than was necessary, and he kept his head down the entire time. It wasn’t the way William behaved, and it was no wonder that Trisha hadn’t remembered him when Abby had asked.

Jill had another thought. If William had wanted these drugs, he could have gotten them as samples, because he knew reps at all the drug companies. So maybe the man in the ballcap wasn’t William at all. Maybe he drove a black SUV, license plate T something, and didn’t know his headlight had burned out. She eyed the screen, thinking of yet a third possibility. That the man really was William, but for some reason, he was disguising himself.

“Uh-oh.” The clerk pointed at the small window in the door. “Customer’s out there. I gotta go.”

“One more sec.” Jill reached in her purse, took out her BlackBerry, and snapped a picture of the monitor’s screen. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” The clerk grinned. “Come back anytime.”

Chapter Fourteen

Jill closed the front door, dropped her keys in the bowl, and lugged two food bags inside. Beef ran barking to greet her, sniffing the bags, but the house was otherwise quiet. Sam’s maroon Lexus was in the driveway, so she knew he was home.

“Babe?” she called out, and Sam came in barefoot from the family room, rubbing his eyes with a tired smile. He looked comfy in his T-shirt and baggy jeans, and he tucked his book under his arm as he took the bags from her and kissed her lightly on the lips.

“How are you, honey?”

“Good.”

“How’s Abby?”

“Fine.” Jill would have to figure out when to tell him about the pharmacy. “How about you?”

“Catching up on my reading. Lee’s well and says hello, and I washed the comforter, so Megan’s back in business.” Sam headed into the kitchen with the bags, and Jill fell into step beside him, dropping her handbag on the chair.

“Thanks. Was it gross?”

“Nah. Did you know that Laundromats have video games these days? I watched a ten-year-old save the planet.” Sam set the bags on the island. “Before I forget, Katie called you. She said she left a message on your phone, too.”

“Oh, thanks.” Jill hadn’t heard her phone ring. Katie Feehan was her best friend, and she lived nearby, with her husband Paul and three boys. “Did she say it was important?”

“She needs your help with a recipe. Something for the kids.”

“Uh-oh.” Jill smiled. Katie was a better friend than a cook.

“Are there more bags in the car?”

“No, just a box, with a laptop and some papers.”

“Whose laptop and papers?”

“William’s. I’m going to help Abby do a household budget. She’s going to live on her own.”

Sam shrugged. “Good for her, but with what money?”

“More than we have. It looks like William finally hit the jackpot.” Jill rummaged in the shopping bags, found the ice cream, and put it in the freezer. “And she agreed to see a therapist.”

“Great.” Sam broke into a relieved smile. “I’ll call Sandy and we’ll make that happen. Where’s Megan?”

“Courtney’s, doing her English project.” Jill unpacked the bagged vegetables and stowed them in the fridge. “I think she’s milking it, don’t you?”

“I don’t blame her if she needs some time with Courtney. She can’t be delighted with Abby after last night.”

“Because of the comforter? It wasn’t Abby’s fault. She got sick.”

“Not only that, but the way she kind of barged in, and all of a sudden, she’s taking up your time. Like tonight.”

Jill looked at him, surprised. “That’s harsh, don’t you think? I was alone, so I went over. I wanted her to come and stay a few days, but Victoria bullied her out of it.”

“What do you mean, a few days?”

“I mean hang here for a little, so I could help her with the budget, and she could spend time with Megan.”

“She works, though.”

“She quit.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t know if her coming here is a good idea. Do you?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Is it a
fait accompli
?” Sam’s eyes flared briefly behind his glasses. “Do I have a say? Does Megan?”

Jill didn’t get it. “Megan was really close to Abby and she’d be happy to have Abby stay.”

“I’m not sure you’re right about that.”

“I know I am. Megan told me she thinks of Abby as family.”

“Megan may not understand the implications of that for the future, and anyway, do I count? Abby’s not in
my
family. I don’t know her. Steven never even met her.”

Jill felt a tug at her heart. She couldn’t say he was wrong, and she couldn’t agree with him, either. “Abby’s a great kid, Sam. Give her a chance.”

“May I be honest, or are you going to bite my head off?”

“Be honest,” Jill answered, meaning it. She hadn’t seen this coming.

“You’re thinking of the Abby you raised, not the Abby I met. The Abby I met drove drunk, was rude, and took over Megan’s room. Is that the same Abby you remember?”