She edged by a plant stand and entered the bedroom where she’d spent the first eighteen years of her life. Setting the suitcase on the pink patchwork quilt topping the narrow bed, she looked around the room. A series of school pictures from grade one to college graduation were edged into the frame of the mirror above a chest of drawers. Even the poster of Nickleback was still on the wall next to the tiny closet. Her mother hadn’t changed anything in the room, keeping it like a shrine. It was probably the only room in the house that wasn’t jammed with stuff.
Giving her head a shake, she pulled the bag of toiletries from the suitcase. She was here to be with her mother, and she’d better get a move on if she was going to be able to speak to that neurologist.
As she was peeling her jeans off to step into the shower her fingers paused at the small lump in her pocket.
Aubree’s MedicAlert bracelet.
She set it on the vanity and stepped out of her jeans. There wasn’t anything she could do about the bracelet now. She had her mother to worry about. But trying to convince her gut of that was easier said than done. She tried to focus on completing her shower to get back to the hospital.
After rinsing the shampoo from her hair, she turned the spray off. When she pulled the shower curtain back, a glance at the vanity gave her a start.
The bracelet was gone.
With narrow eyes she peered at the floor to see if perhaps it had fallen. But a quick scan of her jeans and shirt resting on the green tile showed only her clothes. She grabbed a clean towel from the rack next to the tub and tucked it around herself before stepping out.
For sure, she’d felt the bracelet in her pocket and had removed it, setting it on the vanity. She was positive she’d done that! Even though it had been a rough night’s sleep on the hard hospital sofa, her brain was still functioning... Wasn’t it?
Rummaging through the clothes on the floor, she felt the small beads and the silver band in the jeans. Her breath hitched in her chest as her hand slipped into the pocket, and she pulled out the bracelet.
This wasn’t possible. She’d set the thing on the counter, yet there it was back in her pocket. For a few moments she could only stare at it, her heart fluttering fast.
Her gaze flitted across the room. Had someone entered the house? She hadn’t locked the front door when she’d come in, but no one here ever did, not during the day at least. For Pete’s sake it was a small town, not Albany.
She took a deep breath and called out, “Hello?” But the quiet of the house was the only answer.
Giving her head another shake, she whispered, “Of course there’s no one here. And even if a neighbor or Jenny popped in to see about Mom, they sure as hell wouldn’t come into the bathroom hearing me in the shower.”
Still, she tucked the towel tighter and clicked the lock on the bathroom door. That was definitely weird, finding the bracelet back in her pocket. But everything about the little girl and her bracelet was odd.
She toweled off quickly and then got dressed again. The jeans weren’t dirty, just slept in, and she hadn’t brought that many clothes aside from fresh undies. A quick comb through of her hair, tying it into a wet ponytail, and she was just about done. She brushed her teeth and put on a dab of lipstick to add some color to her tired face. All the while she pushed thoughts of the bracelet to the far recesses of her brain, focusing on being done with this and on her way back to see her mother.
Nevertheless, before she left the house, she did a quick check on each room, opening closet doors to make sure there was no one there. Part of her wished that she’d find a neighbor. It would be better than being alone and knowing that the bracelet had moved by itself.
As she drove she dipped her head to each shoulder, stretching her neck muscles. She was wound up wire tight from all this. First the murder, catching glimpses of the little girl and now her mother’s illness. Who wouldn’t be tense after all that?
But the bracelet...
She couldn’t shake the feeling that Aubree was still reaching out to her.
Chapter 14
WHEN PAIGE ENTERED THE ROOM where she’d visited with her mother that morning the bed was empty. Her heart kicked into overdrive as she hurried to the nurses’ station. “My mother! Where’s my mother, Cheryl Wright?”
The same doctor she’d talked to earlier stepped over to the counter, leaving the side of the middle-aged nurse he’d been speaking with. He held his hands up. “Your mother’s fine. She’s in radiology for tests. Dr. Bennett is scheduled to see her in a couple of hours.”
Paige’s chest emptied with relief. Of course. He’d said something about doing more tests earlier.
Dr. Morris rounded the counter and stood before her. “They’re doing a CAT scan to determine the extent of the damage. From her blood work it was clear that it was a clot, not a hemorrhage, in the brain. That’s actually good news.”
Even though the doctor’s expression and tone was meant to be reassuring Paige was still shook up from seeing her mother’s empty bed.
“Look, I’ll let you know as soon as she’s back from radiology. You can see her then. I’m pretty sure Bennett will want you there when he talks to her.” He had stepped away from the desk, leading her back down the hall to the waiting room.
She nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Morris.” Leaving him behind, she walked slowly to the waiting room to join Karen again.
“That was quick. How is she?” Karen set her knitting aside and patted the place next to her on the sofa.
“I didn’t see her. They’re doing more tests.” She slumped into the spot beside her godmother and sighed. “The doctor said he’ll let me know when she’s back.” She looked into Karen’s gray eyes, “I feel awful. I never visited her as often as I should have. Maybe I could have seen this coming...done something to prevent it.”
Karen patted her knee, leaning closer. “You couldn’t have known. I popped over every day when she’d come home from work, and I never saw this coming, Paige. You can’t blame yourself.” She looked away and her jaw tightened. “There are things that happen which you can’t control. Really bad things.”
A picture of Karen’s deceased husband flitted through Paige’s mind. He’d died behind the wheel of his transport over fifteen years ago. But somehow she had the feeling that Karen wasn’t thinking of Walter right then.
The murder in Albany jumped to the forefront of Paige’s brain. Really bad things do happen, all right. “You heard about that murder in Albany?”
Karen nodded, closing her eyes for a couple beats. “Yes. I was just thinking about that. It’s such a shame. That poor little girl and her mother.” Shaking her head sadly, she added, “How could someone do that?”
Paige had always been close to Karen. Her voice faltered when she spoke. “Did you know that I defended the husband, Cory Smith, in a child custody battle?” Paige felt the tears stinging behind her eyes but she pressed on. “I enabled that man to have access to them. The police still haven’t found him.”
Karen’s eyes became wide staring at her. “Oh my God.”
Paige slumped lower in her seat. “It’s my fault.”
Karen swallowed hard and leaned closer. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known what he’d do. Some people are just born bad. It’s in their genes.”
Paige pictured Cory and for the hundredth time asked herself how she’d missed it. Had he been born bad as Karen seemed to think? What else could account for people like Paul Bernardo and Ted Bundy? Was it in their genes or could their upbringing account for some of it?
“I wish I’d never laid eyes on Cory Smith. I feel tangled up in his treachery.” Tears that she’d bottled up gave way when Karen pulled her close.
Karen stroked Paige’s hair and then eased back. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. The world is full of tragedy, things that none of us can control. You’ve got to let this go, Paige. It’ll eat you up until you do.”
Paige plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table and wiped her eyes. Karen wa
s probably right about stepping back from the nightmare murder. But that wasn’t likely to happen.
When she eased back into the leather sofa the bracelet dug into her hip bone. Her fingers plucked at the fold of fabric adjusting the hard sliver of the inscription plate so it didn’t pinch into her so much. The bracelet was a constant reminder of the little girl.
But figuring out why she had been directed to find that bracelet was something that would have to wait.
Wait. Just like sitting there now waiting to see her mother and that specialist doctor.
***
A couple of hours later Paige looked up when a new doctor, an older guy in his mid-fifties, appeared at the side of her mother’s bed.
His dark eyes flitted over to her, and he glanced at the chart in his hand before speaking. “You must be Paige, Mrs. Wright’s daughter. I’m Dr. Bennett.” He turned to gaze down at her mother and his eyes softened. “You had a pretty rough day yesterday, Cheryl. We’ve determined that a blood clot in the left hemisphere of your brain was the cause. A small section was affected. The anticoagulant which you were administered overnight has helped restore the flow. Even so, there were brain cells in the Broca area that died.”
Paige had been hanging on every word while watching her mother’s eyes. But with the doctor’s latest sentence she interrupted, “But she’ll recover all her faculties, won’t she?”
He looked at her and smiled. “Given time and the right medication, I’m optimistic about that outcome. There’s amazing plasticity in the brain. The surviving brain cells work overtime devising work-arounds to help restore lost functionality. There is also medication to assist or stimulate the brain in this rewiring.”
Tears glistened in Paige’s eyes when she looked at her mother. “You’re gonna be okay, Mom. Your brain is probably working on getting better right now.”
The doctor tucked the clipboard under his arm and leaned closer to her mother. “Your speech is going to be affected judging from the area that was damaged. That’s common and nothing to be unduly alarmed about, but you must have patience, Cheryl.”
The other doctor, Dr. Morris, stepped into the room and stood next to Paige. The neurologist looked over at him. “We can transfer Mrs. Wright from ICU today. Schedule rehab to assess and recommend a therapy program. I’ll check in on her in a couple of days and make a determination based on the team’s assessment of her needs and the resources available if she can be released then.”
Paige’s heart leapt hearing that they were even thinking her mother may be able to go home in a couple of days. She squeezed her mother’s hand and smiled seeing her mother’s eyes close softly. There was even a small smile of relief when they opened, and Mom looked at her again.
She turned to the doctors who were about to leave, “Thanks. Just let me know what I can do. If it’s hiring a nurse or home care to help me look after her, I’m all over that.”
The younger doctor answered, “We’ll know the best course after the rest of the team has evaluated your mother.”
They left the room, and Paige again turned to her mother. “Mom, this is going to work out.” She looked down at her mother’s worn hand. “I’m sorry I never visited you more. That’s going to change, Mom. I promise.”
Chapter 15
IT WAS ALMOST TEN at night when Paige arrived at her mother’s house. It had been a long day but at least the anguish over her mother had eased. There were still lots of things she needed to do to support her, but knowing she’d get better made all the difference.
She glanced over at Karen’s house and saw the light in the living room flickering from some program on TV. Karen had stayed at the hospital right up until dinner time before heading home.
Paige locked the car and walked up the narrow walkway, peering up when the motion light over the door flashed. Inside the house, as she was slipping her shoes off, she noticed a sliver of light peeking out from under the spare bedroom door. In her rush to get back to the hospital earlier, she must have left it on when she checked the house for intruders.
Flicking the hallway and kitchen lights on as she passed by, she entered the tiny bedroom. Long ago it had been converted into a sewing and craft room and now the small bed against the far wall was buried in an avalanche of totes, heaps of fabric and sewing supplies. Her mother’s sewing table and machine rested against the wall closest to her, while the opposite one contained an old sea chest and a bookcase jammed with acrylic paints, magazines and even more brightly colored folded cloth.
She’d have to wait until her mother was home to make sure she wasn’t going to pitch anything valuable out, but half of the crap in that room was definitely going. It was barely a cow path between the two walls with all the stuff crammed in there.
Paige smiled as she turned the light off and backed out of the room. If there had been an intruder earlier they could easily have hidden under some heap of stuff, and who would ever know? Hell. They may never be found again.
She wandered into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. A glass of wine would have been better, but there’d be no way her mother had any of that on hand. After filling the kettle with water, she pushed a collection of recipe books and a stack of junk mail to the side to make room on the counter. The electrical plug was easier to find, with the multiple cords hanging like the arms of an octopus from the outlet.
Leaning her backside against the countertop she looked around. There wasn’t a horizontal surface that wasn’t strewn with papers, knickknacks or plants. The room wasn’t all that big but it looked even smaller because of the crowding. It was claustrophobic rather than homey. Her mother collected junk like a bee collected pollen. When she’d lived there she’d been able to keep a lid on her mother’s obsession. But since she left home, Mom had really let loose.
She reached for a mug from the cabinet and rummaged for the tea bags. She had her choice of tea, from green to Irish Breakfast to chai. That was only the first layer visible. She grabbed the box of chai and plucked out a bag before shoving it back in the crowded space.
Her mother bordered on being a hoarder while Paige ascribed to minimalism. If she didn’t use something for a couple months, out it went. Was this need for order something she’d inherited from her father’s genes or was it a reaction to her mother’s lifestyle? She loved her mother to pieces, but this mania to accumulate stuff had always bugged her.
When the kettle boiled she poured a cup and decided to take it to her bedroom. It was either that or do battle with the coats and sweaters draped over the kitchen chairs to sit down.
As she passed by the sewing room she noticed that the light was once more seeping out from under the door. Her forehead knotted.
She’d turned that light out. What the hell?
She opened the door and looked at the wall switch. There was nothing on the wall next to it that could have jostled the switch—that in itself was odd considering the jumble of pictures competing for wall space. When she flicked the switch a few times, it wasn’t like it was loose or anything. She took a deep breath and turned it off, before closing the door gently. Maybe she should call an electrician to check on it while she was staying there. If it was some kind of short then it could be a fire hazard.
She let out a yawn so deep she shuddered. That’s it; time for bed.
She climbed into bed and booted up her laptop. She spent a while checking her email and got caught up on the news. The police still hadn’t caught up with Cory Smith. Damn.
She snuggled under the patchwork quilt her mom had made for her. At least her job wasn’t going to be a problem. Sheila had confirmed that she was clear for the next week at least in taking personal time to look after her mother. Thank God for Sheila. She could picture Bradley’s scowl, operating the firm with just the two of them, having to turn away potential clients.
She set her laptop on the bedside table and then flicked the lamp off. Adjusting the pillows before settling in, her hand hit something hard. Her fingers glided over the small ob
ject and she froze. There was no need to turn the light on. She knew what her fingers felt.
Aubree’s bracelet.
She pulled it out from under her pillow and sat up straight.
That bracelet should still be in her jeans where she’d left it. She hadn’t given the bracelet a thought since that afternoon. Yet here it was tucked under her pillow. It was eerie as hell, but for some crazy reason she wasn’t frightened this time. Not like that morning in the bathroom when it had appeared in her jeans.
Her gaze wandered over the room. “Aubree? You don’t want me to forget you. That’s it, isn’t it?” She stayed still as a statue listening hard for any sound or sign. But only the faint tick of her mom’s grandfather clock in the hallway could be heard.
She slid the bracelet back under her pillow and then laid her head down. “I won’t forget you, Aubree. But I need to be here for my mom right now. I will go where you’re leading me after that. Don’t worry.”
Chapter 16
IT WAS GOOD TO BE ABLE TO SLEEP IN THE NEXT MORNING. Her mother had been moved to another wing of the hospital and the duty nurse had told Paige to delay visiting until the afternoon. Apparently the rest of the team of medical specialists would be keeping her mom busy, each member assessing and making recommendations to speed recovery.
When Paige finally opened her eyes, the sun already well above the horizon, cast a warm honey glow on the footboard and across the room. A quick glance at her cell phone showed that it was almost ten o’clock. She sat up and threw the blankets back, stifling a yawn. It had been a while since she’d slept in that bed, seeing the dark limbs of the maple tree just outside her window. The only thing missing was her mom in the kitchen and the sound of plates and pans clattering.
She grabbed her robe from the back of the door and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. When she finished in there she paused, looking around the hallway at the jumble of stuff that lined the walls. She may not be able to throw things out, but at least she could organize and possibly box things up. Her mom might not be that steady on her feet, and having this junk crowding the way wouldn’t help matters.
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