The Children's Ward (20 page)

Eighty-one

When she arrived in New Mexico, Alicia looked for someone who looked like a photographer. It was not an easy thing to do, since in her experience photographers tended to be nondescript, but she stood watching people come and go.

After fifteen minutes of this she decided that Howard had not bothered to arrange to have anyone meet her.

That was a mistake he would regret.

She hoped Mrs. Kraft would like the sound of her husband’s verbal foreplay…

But for now, Alicia was stuck without a photographer.

Well, how hard could it be? She’d worked publicity shoots dozens of times and none of the photographers she’d ever met seemed to work too hard at it. She’d get her own camera and take the lousy pictures herself.

That decided, she set off in search of the car
rental agency. Luckily it was a local company which she didn’t feel would be too particular about I.D.

There was a man at the counter ahead of her and she watched in satisfaction as he rented a car without showing even a driver’s license.

This was the type of thing James would point out as indicative of the innate decency of the New Mexican people.

Whatever, she was grateful for it.

The man left the counter and she stepped up.

“Good afternoon,” the clerk said, and handed her a rental application form.

“I called ahead…Alice Smith.”

The clerk thumbed through a small stack of cards. “Here it is, Alice Smith. Cash or charge?”

“Cash,” Alicia said, and reached into her purse.

For a second she couldn’t believe her eyes. A single five dollar bill. Then she remembered; she had tucked the rest of her money under the seat of the car when she’d stopped for coffee, and hadn’t remembered to retrieve the cash when she’d left the car in the parking garage in L.A.

Five dollars. Damn!

She couldn’t use her credit cards, at least not with this clerk.

“Oh…can you tell me where I could find a phone?”

The clerk, who had been completing the paperwork, looked up. “You can use our phone.”

“No…this is long distance and it may take a while.” Alicia looked at the rental forms, trying to think of a good reason to leave before completing the transaction.

Just then the phone rang. “Excuse me,” the clerk said.

Alicia walked away quickly.

Outside the terminal she stopped to gather her thoughts. She was in an awkward situation. She had five dollars in cash. If she wanted to use her credit card to rent a car she would have to wait until the clerk went off duty. There was no way for her to know when that might be.

Renting a room would present the same problem. She could use her credit cards but she would rather not. She did not want anyone to ever find out that she came to New Mexico.

She had lied to the doctors about where she was going. She had lied to Tessi.

Being found out in those lies would make her look bad.

There was also the fact that she would be, by the letter of the law, breaking into her ex-husband’s house. Since she had the keys, she thought it unlikely that anyone would ever know. But if by some chance the intrusion was detected, she did not want credit card receipts placing her in the state.

So…she could give up her plan, spend the night in the terminal, and fly back to Los Angeles tomorrow.

Or she could walk out to the ranch…there was plenty of daylight left…and spend the night there.

It was an easy decision to make.

She started to walk.

Eighty-two

James Wolf watched his former wife from a coffee shop window across from the airport.

He had known she was coming.

It made him very sad. He had hoped that at some point, Alicia would give up her anger. He did not like being a hated man. He did not wish to be her enemy.

He realized that he had made a mistake by arguing with her about Tessi, and that by not controlling his temper, he had added heat to her flame.

Now he did not know how to stop her.

But stop her, he must.

She began to walk down the road which led from the airport into town.

He could not understand why she was walking, but it would make it easy to follow her.

He got up from the table and paid for his coffee.

He followed her until he was sure that she was walking toward the ranch. Then he turned the truck around.

There was someone whom he could ask.

Someone who would know what he should do.

Eighty-three

“Death certificate, death certificate.” The file clerk searched through a pile of manila folders and papers. “I know I had those this morning.”

“Would you like me to look through some of those?” Quinn offered, not knowing what else to suggest. The woman had been looking for the certificate for five minutes.

“No, no, I’ll find it. I know it’s in here.”

Quinn watched patiently.

“Now if I were a death certificate, where would I be?” the woman mused.

“I think I’ll go get a Coke,” Quinn said.

“You do that.” The clerk did not look up. “I’ll just keep looking…it didn’t get up and walk away.”

Quinn smiled and went outside.

There was a small store down the street on the corner and she walked toward it, enjoying the sun after so many days of rain.

The store windows were covered with white spray-on snow and painted holly, and she went inside, expecting to hear Christmas carols. Instead it was reggae.

A California Christmas, she thought, and started down an aisle.

“Quinn,” a voice called, and she turned.

Joshua, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and carrying a carton of milk and a loaf of bread, smiled at her.

“Joshua, hello.” She was a little stunned; somehow she expected him to be wearing a lab coat at all times.

“What are you doing downtown?” he asked, coming down the aisle toward her. “Not too many people shop down here since they opened the new shopping center up the road.”

“I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

He laughed. “There’s nothing
in
this neighborhood.”

“Except the morgue and city buildings,” she corrected.

“You’re on business, then.”

“I have to sign Lloyd Marshall’s death certificate.”

“That shouldn’t take long…would you like to join me for lunch?”

“I’d like that very much.”

She graciously allowed him to buy her a Coke and they walked back down to the morgue, stopping at his car to leave off his groceries.

“So how were things at the hospital this morning?”

“Interesting.” She sipped her Coke.

“How interesting?”

“Tessi had an anxiety reaction and had to be medicated, I saw Courtney’s EEG which has some abnormalities…”

“That’s never happened before,” Joshua commented.

“…I talked with Ian about Russell…”

“Ian was in this morning?”

“Yes, and…damn!”

“What?”

“I forgot to try Abigail’s grandmother again.”

They had reached the morgue and Joshua opened the door for her.

She decided she liked him in jeans.

“Oh, you’re back. Good. I found them for you.”

“Them? I’m only here for…”

“Right where I thought they were, too. Last place I looked, of course…” She handed Quinn a folder. “Just leave them on the counter,” she said.

Joshua, standing next to her, laughed. “Nice lady.”

Quinn opened the folder. There were two reports, Lloyd Marshall and Anne Rossi.

“That’s the physical therapist,” Joshua said, taking that report from the folder.

“Hmm.” She skimmed through the certificate which was attached to the autopsy report.

“A very thorough job,” Joshua commented, reading through the autopsy report on Rossi. “Stomach contents, fingernail scrapings…cause of death, suffocation by drowning.”

Quinn signed Marshall’s death certificate.

“Even a time of death.”

She looked up. “How did they get that? I thought she’d been in the whirlpool for awhile when they found her.”

“You need to read more murder mysteries. Her watch stopped. At twelve forty-five p.m.”

“Maybe she was wearing a watch that wasn’t working.” Quinn returned Marshall’s autopsy report and certificate to the folder and looked at the second report.

“Don’t challenge scientific principle.”

“Two accidents in the same hospital on the same day, just more than an hour apart; Marshall died at eleven-thirty.” She shook her head.

“Oh, this one’s not an accident,” Joshua said, flipping to the back of the autopsy report. “Her right arm was dislocated at the shoulder with enough force to cause a greenstick fracture of the radius. But there is virtually no bleeding into the tissue—”

“So it happened seconds before she died.”

“And that makes this one a murder.”

Eighty-four

“Look at you,” Mary Aguilar said as her relief nurse came through the door. “Has the ice age arrived?”

Barbara Stuart unwrapped the woolen scarf from around her neck and unbuttoned her knee-length down jacket before answering. “If I didn’t wear it, I’d have to carry it, and I’m too tired for that.”

“But it’s a beautiful day outside,” Mary protested.

“It
has
been, but it’s about to be the West Coast’s version of the Great Blizzard.” She hung the coat up on a hook on the bathroom door and stuffed the scarf in the pocket.

“I guess I picked a great time to take a vacation…”

“The way things are going around here, I’d be glad to go in your place, even if it meant staying locked in under ten feet of snow.”

“What do you mean?”

Barbara looked at Mary. “You’ve got to get out more,” she said flatly. “Don’t you know what’s been happening around here?”

“Tell me.”

“It was on the news last night that Anne Rossi’s death was not accidental. They’re looking for ‘person or persons unknown.’ Do you realize that means she was murdered right here at the hospital? Maybe by one of the employees?” Barbara shivered.

“No…”

“It’s possible. You’re lucky you work days; I’ve got to be here alone on p.m.’s and I don’t even want to think about the gal working nights.”

“You can lock up,” Mary suggested.

Barbara nodded emphatically. “You can bet your sweet ass I’m going to lock that door the minute you leave. And I’m not letting anyone in.”

“Visiting hours,” Mary reminded her.

“Well…”

“And the doctors.”

“I know all the doctors.” Barbara thought for a minute. “I can think of a few I wouldn’t like to be alone with on a dark and stormy night.”

“Barbara!”

“There are some perverts on staff here,” she nodded knowingly. “Word gets around.”

“Still…murdering someone…”

“And there’s more.” Barbara sat on the edge of the desk, inspecting her pantyhose for runs. “Someone has been sabotaging the computer.”

“How on earth?”

“You wouldn’t believe. The pharmacy order was deleted from the memory, the central service inventory was deleted, all those DRG codes are gone, the thermostats are turned up on medical and down on surgical…the computer even discharged all of the patients in the hospital.”

“And they think someone is deliberately doing these things?”

“What else could it be?”

“Something wrong with the programming?”

“Well whatever is going on, it could have been a catastrophe.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward. “All the life support systems are computerized.”

“Oh no…” Mary could not comprehend anyone doing such a thing.

“Well, they’re off the system now…”

“I guess we’re lucky to be away from the main building after all,” Mary said, looking at the video monitor. “Nothing bad can happen to us all the way out here.”

Eighty-five

The dirt road that led to the ranch was filled with more potholes than Alicia had ever seen in her life. Walking on it was torture enough; she couldn’t imagine having to drive on it.

She had almost missed it as well. The only marker was a two-foot-high wood stake with “Wolf” painted on it. She probably wouldn’t have seen it at all if she hadn’t been so desperate that she was looking for signs with each step.

Even with the potholes and dust, she was glad to be off the paved road. She did not enjoy the stares of curiosity, nor the occasional whistle and rude remark.

And it couldn’t be much farther now.

She watched her feet as she walked. Whoever had named these desert boots should have their head examined. She was certain that once she took the boots off, it would be impossible to put them back on.

That was all that had stopped her from sitting in the middle of the road and pulling them off.

She walked on, shifting her overnight case from one hand to the other.

It couldn’t be much farther.

The sun was getting very low in the sky and a little bit of wind had come up. She remembered the chilled nights from years ago. She did not want to be outside when dusk fell.

She narrowed her eyes, squinting in the effort to see the ranch house. The land was not as flat as she thought it was and the road was not straight.

When she got to the ranch house she was going straight to draw a tub of steaming hot water. Assuming there was any hot water. Assuming there was a tub.

She would not put it past Little Wolf to rely on more primitive methods of hygiene.

None of this was working out the way she planned.

How could she have made so many mistakes?

It all could have been avoided if she hadn’t stopped for coffee at that restaurant. Or if the people inside had acted like decent human beings and hadn’t angered her so much that she forgot about having hidden the money.

Then, in Los Angeles, if she’d taken a cab to the airport instead of allowing a neighbor to give her a ride. She would have noticed then that she didn’t have her money, and could have gone back to the apartment to get it. She might have missed the plane to New Mexico but that was nothing compared to what she was going
through now.

She was beginning to think that she would have been better off to have forgotten the whole thing. Right now she could be dining…frugally, perhaps, but she hadn’t eaten all day.

There would be food in the house. Even savages had to eat.

Where was the damn house?

There was something seriously wrong with a person who was so anti-social that he chose to live miles away from town with no neighbors in sight.

She looked over her shoulder at the sun which hovered just above the horizon.

This couldn’t be happening to her.

She stood in front of the ranch house, unable to believe her eyes.

No wonder she hadn’t seen it; it was built right into the side of a rise. The roof was covered by dirt and brush and the front of the building was built of stone.

It did not look like a house at all.

If she’d come upon it with the sun completely set, she probably wouldn’t have seen it.

She let the overnight case drop to the ground and pulled the keys out of her purse.

Whatever it was, it was better than spending the night on the road.

The lights worked and she breathed a sigh of relief. For a few moments, while her hand searched along the wall for a switch, she’d had an awful feeling that electricity was too modern for him. That he would use oil lamps or whatever it was they used during the Civil War.

She locked the door behind her.

The living room was to her right, an open kitchen to the left. She located the bedrooms— two of them—with a bathroom in between.

There was a tub.

She leaned in and pushed the stopper into the drain, then turned on the water. The water pressure wasn’t great but the hot water was hot and that’s all that she cared about.

While the tub was filling she walked slowly around the house.

It was tiny. The entire house would have fit in her living room at the apartment. There were only two windows, neither of them very large, both in the kitchen. There was only the one door.

What if there was a fire?

She would have to remember that when she was preparing her case.

The room that was Tessi’s was sparsely furnished: a twin bed, a chest of drawers, and a rocking chair. The closet had no door.

His room was only slightly larger and just as bare.

She walked to the bed and tested the mattress with her hand. Firm. He had always liked a firm bed.

She would have to sleep in his bed tonight; she wouldn’t fit in Tessi’s. She wondered who else had slept in his bed.

She lowered her body into the hot water.

Both of her heels had blisters and the water stung but the rest of her aching muscles welcomed the heat.

She sank in the tub, resting her head against the edge and submerging everything but her face. The water lapped against her chin.

Amazing how much difference a bath could make. Two minutes in the steaming water and she was suddenly jubilant.

She would win after all. It had taken her the better part of the day to get here but she had accomplished what she’d set out to do; there would be no trace of her trip. The air tickets were the only clue at all, and with millions of people flying every day, in six months no one would be able to say whether Alice Smith was Alicia Vincent.

It had, in fact, worked out better than she’d planned. No signature on a car rental application or a motel registration card. Staying at the ranch eliminated the paper trail and left fewer clues.

She would enjoy her bath, find something to eat, and then sleep. In the morning she would take notes, draw diagrams and look for any evidence that James was unfaithful.

Unfaithful. Why had she…?

It didn’t matter. She had done what she had wanted to do and no one could stop her now.

Not wanting to put her clothes back on, she dressed in one of her ex-husband’s shirts. She searched for a pair of socks so that she wouldn’t have to go barefoot, but there were none to be found.

The house was quiet.

She went into the kitchen to find something to eat, fastening the shutters over the windows so that no one could look in.

She felt strangely vulnerable.

The kitchen was well-stocked with food, including an entire cupboard filled with canned goods, but she couldn’t find an electric can opener. Finally she found an old hand-held opener and managed to open her can of soup enough so that she could pry the lid open and pour the liquid out.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, waiting for her soup to heat on the stove, she tried to imagine what her life would have been like if she’d come back with Jimmy. She could almost hear Tessi’s excited voice…

No. Absolutely not. It would never have worked out. She had made the right decision.

She looked at her watch as she went in to sleep. It was only six o’clock.