“Can I help you?” the woman behind the counter asks me.
“Um, yeah.” I approach the check in counter and fiddle with the pen on a chain. “Did they bring a stabbing victim here? And a baby?” I add.
The woman looks over her glasses at me. The way her eyes narrow, I can tell the young woman and baby are here. “I’m not allowed to give information about patients. Unless you’re family.” She’s not unfriendly, but she’s can’t tell me anything.
“I’m not family.” I fiddle with the pen on a chain some more. “They are here, aren’t they?”
“I can’t discuss patients, I’m sorry. Unless you’re with the police?” Something in her look and tone tells me she knows exactly who I am, and wants to help.
“Sort of. I’m consulting on this case.” Not completely true, but not untrue either.
“You’re welcome to wait out here.” She motions to the empty chairs.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll wait.” Not sure what I’m waiting for. She didn’t send me away, so the woman and baby must be here.
I take a seat a few places down from the older man. He’s wide awake now, watching me.
“Megan?” the woman behind the counter calls to the mom and her daughter with the cut on her arm. She takes them through a door and the older man and I are alone.
“Stabbing victim?” he asks as soon as the door shuts. “And a baby?”
“You heard that, huh?”
“Hard not to. I’ve been waiting here for nearly two hours and nothing interesting has happened until you came in.”
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“My son and his wife are back there. She was having some bad stomach pains, so my son insisted I drive them both here. If you ask me, she’s just after attention. Or he could have driven her himself instead of calling me. They’re running some tests. I’m sure she’s fine, but here I wait.”
“I hope she’s okay.” I pick up a sticky magazine and flip through the pages.
The man doesn’t get the hint.
“Stabbing victim? And a baby? What’s the story?” He leans forward and half-turns to face me.
“I’m not allowed to talk about it.” I focus on my magazine pointedly.
“Come on, I’ve wasted my Saturday afternoon sitting here for no reason. The least you could do is tell me a juicy story.” He straightens his crooked hat.
“You’re very persistent.”
“A life time of working in sales will do that to you. Now spill it. You know you want to.”
I toss the magazine back on the stack. “Fine. This morning I found a woman who had been stabbed last night. She must have gotten away, because I found her in some woods. She had given birth to a baby.”
“Come on, you’re making this up,” he leans even closer, eyes wide.
“No, for real. I swear.”
The doors to the ER flop open before the man can respond. “Dad, you’re still here.” A younger man and woman walk up to us.
“Where else would I be? You ready to go now?”
“Turns out it was nothing.” The younger man squeezes his wife’s hand. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
“Better home than here,” the older man grumbles, standing to leave. “Good luck with your made up story,” he says to me.
“I didn’t make it up.”
“Either way, good luck.” He winks.
The quiet of the waiting room descends upon me. I entertain myself by reading the posters. “Cover you cough”, “Do you know CPR?” The woman returns to her post at the front desk, but her presence doesn’t lift my melancholy. How long should I wait? What exactly am I waiting for?
Another patient comes in and is taken back for treatment immediately.
I wander around the room for something to do. I look out the glass doors and watch cars driving by in the parking lot.
I get too close to the doors and they whoosh open automatically. Just a few steps and I can leave.
I wander back into the room and the doors shut again.
The woman has returned to her desk.
“Any news?” I ask.
“You know I can’t tell you,” she says with her mouth, but a tiny shake of her head says no news.
Time drags by and I soon find myself dozing off, much like the man from earlier. I shake my head to stay awake, but my eyes won’t obey. I give in. I have nothing else to do.
“Again, with the passing out?” Lucas wakes me up.
For the second time today, I bolt awake to find Lucas and Dustin before me.
“You sure you don’t have a drinking problem?” Lucas’ eyes crinkle at the corners.
“You know I don’t drink.” I look around the room, unsure where I am at first. “How long have I been asleep?”
“We just got here,” Dustin says by way of answer. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“You said you needed my help with this case, remember?” The fast shot of anger at my brother clears the sleep from my head. “I’m waiting to see if she makes it. See what I can do. Is she okay? Is she out of surgery or whatever? They wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“She’s out of surgery, but she’s not awake. They don’t know if she will wake up. It’s not good,” Lucas says.
“And the baby?”
“He’s fine. Dehydrated, but fine. Tough little guy,” Dustin says. “Like Walker.” Dustin may not be nice to me, but he dotes on his infant son.
“Can we see her?”
“We?” Dustin asks.
“I want to see her. You said she might not wake up. I need to touch her again, really listen. See if I can at least figure out who she is.”
“If she wakes up, she can tell us herself,” Dustin points out.
“If she doesn’t wake up, I’m the only chance you have. If she does wake up, you will at least have a head start.”
Dustin stares at his boot, deciding. “Wait here, I’ll set it up.”
Lucas sits next to me while we wait. “How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. I came right after I dropped Jet off at Grandma’s.”
“You don’t back down, do you?” I’m not sure if he’s impressed or annoyed.
“Sometimes I do. But not with this.” I brush a stray curl from my face.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He shifts in his seat, the equipment on his belt jingling.
My cell phone rings, echoing through the quiet waiting room.
“Crap on a cracker,” I say when I see Preston on the caller ID. “What time is it? I was supposed to go on a date with Preston tonight. I forgot all about it.”
“That still going on?” Lucas asks over the ring tone.
“Yeah. Slow but sure.”
“He’s a good man.” Lucas stands up. “You better answer it before it goes to voicemail.”
I catch the call just in time. “Hello?”
“Do I have my days wrong or did we have a date tonight?” Preston’s voice is light with only a hint of annoyance.
“You have your days right. I’m sorry. I got caught up in a case, and I forgot all about our date.”
“What do you mean caught up in a case? I thought all that was over.”
“Another case.”
Dustin comes out and motions for us to follow him back to see the woman.
“Preston, I’m so sorry, but I have to go. I promise I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“I guess, but you’re not making any sense.” The annoyance no longer a hint.
I feel like a jerk, but I hang up and follow Dustin.
Preston will just have to understand.
Chapter 6
Gabby
I follow Lucas and Dustin down a maze of hallways, my hands tucked tight into my pockets. Hospitals are full of the kinds of energy I sense, so I’m careful not to touch anything. I need all my strength for the girl.
A uniformed officer guards the door to her room. It’s a standard precaution, but it makes me nervous, makes this real.
The officer nods at Lucas and Dustin and gives me a quizzical look.
“She’s with us,” Dustin says.
The officer opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. As head detective, Dustin can do what he needs to.
The heavy wooden door opens easily when Dustin pushes on it. He and Lucas enter her room, but I hesitate in the hall. “Last chance to run,” I whisper to myself. “The elevator’s only a few steps away.”
The officer on guard hears me talking to myself and wrinkles his nose. “She won’t bite,” he says.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” I snap and step through the door.
Soft shadows fill the room and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust from the brightness of the hallway. I look at the far wall, study the floor, look anywhere other than at the girl in the bed. My eyes finally settle on Lucas, a safe place.
“Well,” Dustin says. “You made us bring you here. What do you want to do?”
“I….”
“Do you want to sit next to her?” Lucas pulls a chair close to the side of the bed and motions for me to sit.
I can’t just stand here, I came for a reason. I take the offered seat and finally look at the girl.
The mud has been washed from her face, and the tight braids have been taken down, the twigs and leaves removed. I barely recognize her as the same girl from this morning. The sprinkling of freckles match my memory, as does the paleness of her skin, although less blue than before. Her pinched and pained expression from this morning is gone. She looks peaceful now, soft and sleepy. She’s so lovely, it’s hard to imagine the terror she lived through last night.
If I were to lift the sheet covering her body, the damage would be obvious from the bandages, bruises and scrapes. I don’t lift the sheet.
“Can I hold her hand?” I ask.
“I don’t see why not,” Lucas says.
I pull off my gloves, both of them, and jam them into my pockets. Her thin fingers are a few inches from me, the wrists torn and red from the zip ties. I stare at the marks and put my hands back in my lap.
I feel the men watching at me.
“What’s wrong?” Dustin asks.
“I’m hungry,” I say out of nowhere. “Can you get me a snack?”
Dustin looks angry. “A snack?”
“This takes a lot of energy, you know. And I haven’t eaten today.” Grandma Dot’s Rice Krispy treats don’t really count as food.
“Fine. What do you want?” Dustin concedes.
“Dr. Pepper and Twizzlers,” I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Or crackers?”
“Anything else, would you like to try the house special, ma’am?”
“Please, Dustin.”
Thankfully, he leaves the room.
“Hungry?” Lucas asks with a chuckle.
“I couldn’t do this with him watching, judging. It was the only thing I could think of to get rid of him.”
“Do you want me to leave, too?”
“No. Please stay.” I motion to the guest seat. “Just sit there quietly. And make sure I’m okay,” I add.
Lucas settles on the small couch. “I’ve got your back.”
I still can’t bring myself to touch her. Once I do, I’ll either see something horrible or nothing helpful. Either way won’t be good. But I need to do this. Made them bring me here to do this.
I stall and look around the room. “Nice rooms they have here,” I say to fill the space.
Lucas is surprised by my comment. “I guess so.”
I continue to stall, my hands jammed in my lap, safe. I kill time by examining the young woman, pretend it’s part of my process. My eyes keep coming back to the angry marks on her wrists. The torn skin where she fought her bindings. They have put salve of some kind on the scrapes and they shine in the dim light. I can’t pull my eyes from the grotesque image.
A shiver climbs up my back.
“Are you okay?” Lucas’ concern draws my eyes away from the cuts and back to the room. “You sure you don’t want me to leave and give you some privacy to do this?”
“You’ve watched me do it before.” I sit straighter in my seat by her bed. “There’s nothing to it, just touch her.”
“It’s understandable if you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” I snap.
“I would be.”
“You’re not me,” I grumble.
I breathe deeply and clear my mind. “Lord, please let me see what I need to see.”
With all the fake courage I can muster, I place my bare hand on top of her thin one, and prepare for what she will show me.
Addlynn? Where are you, naughty child? Mother searches. Closet is too small. Need better hiding place. Bury in the towels. Smell of bleach choking. Addlynn? Mother closer. Don’t make a sound. Please don’t find me. She’s close. Steps in the hall. Close my eyes, she can’t see me. Door flies open. Bright light stinging. Towels falling. Now look what you’ve done. He’ll make us re-wash all these towels. Sharp slap to the cheek. Ears ringing, eyes stinging. Don’t you dare cry. We’re late for church. The dark-eyed girl watches. Humiliation. Dark-eyes glittering with hatred.
The hospital room door opens, breaking the vision. “They didn’t have Dr. Pepper, so I got you Pepsi.”
I blink at my brother, taking a moment to return to the present.
“Crap, sorry,” he has the good grace to say. “Here.” He hands me the snacks. I take them eagerly, twist off the cap of the Pepsi and down three large gulps. The carbonation tingles my throat, a welcome burn.
“Did you see anything?” Lucas asks, notebook ready. “Did you see what happened to her?”
I take another gulp of the Pepsi before I answer. “She was a little girl, maybe six or seven. She was hiding in a closet from her mom. Her mom smacked her when she found her. She was angry about Addlynn getting the towels dirty.”
“Addlynn? Is that her name?” Dustin asks. “Just Addlynn, not the other names.”
“Her mom called her Addlynn. There was another girl there, too. A little older, maybe eleven. She had dark eyes, and she hates Addlynn.”
“A little girl hiding in a closet, a mean mom and another girl who hates her. That’s it?” Dustin asks.
“Well, you came in and I lost the vision.” I tear open the bag of Twizzlers and make two disappear in quick nibbles.
“Anything else?” Dustin’s voice is kinder now.
“The mom said ‘he’d’ make them wash the towels again. She seemed afraid of whoever ‘he’ is. Addlynn was definitely afraid of him.”
I look at the girl in a coma before me. Addlynn. At least she has a name now.
“Do you think you could try again?” Dustin’s voice is gentle. “Please.” It’s the please that does me in.
“Can you sit silently and not be a jerk about it after?” I smile to take the edge off my words. If he’s willing to say please, I’m willing to be nice.
“I can try.” He sits down on the far end of the visitor couch.
Feeling self-conscious with both my brother and Lucas watching, I take her hand again. This time I turn it over so I can touch her palm, not just place mine on top.
The soft skin of her hand is marred by a circular scar in the center of her palm. It’s healed, but puckered and angry looking just the same.
“What’s this…?”
The vision slams me before I can finish my question.
Single candle on the table. I don’t want it. Flame licking the air, hot wax pooling below the wick. They watch me, excited. Make me proud, Mother said. This wonderful day, this child joins us. Sick voice, I hate him. The candle beckons, mocks me. Come forward, child, show you’re part of us. I don’t move. They twitter behind me, disapproving. Mother watches nearby. Tight grip on my wrist, too tight. Come forward, child. I know what’s coming, I’ve watched from the crowd before. I try to pull away, his grip tightens, crushes. Do it, you want this, hot voice in my ear. Flame grows closer, grip crushes my wrist. Open your hand, sick voice in
my ear. I obey. Hot flame licks my palm. Scream in pain. Don’t embarrass, make me proud, Mother said. Bite my lip to stop the scream, draw blood. Flame licking palm, sizzling skin. Pain, so much pain, please stop. This child is ours now, belongs to us. Grip on wrist gone, legs buckle. Mother catches me. You did it, you’re ours now. Crowd of raised hands with matching marks.
I slide off the chair and onto the floor when the vision ends. I land in a puddle, the linoleum cool against my hot cheek. Lucas and Dustin scoop me up and place me on the guest couch. The cushion is warm from where they had been sitting. I press my face into the cushion, hiding. My chest hurts, my ears ring. Tears streak my face and I wipe them away with trembling hands.
“Gabby? Can you hear me?” Lucas kneels next to the couch. “Call a nurse,” he says to Dustin.
“No nurse,” I manage to stutter. “Just g-g-give me a minute.”
My whole body jerks in a shudder, shaking off the awful vision.
“Do you want some soda?” Dustin asks.
The concern in his voice spurs me to sit up. I must have scared him if he’s being this nice.
Once upright, I nod and Dustin hurries to grab my drink. After a few gulps, I feel well enough to talk.
“She has a scar on her palm.” The men look at Addlynn, peacefully oblivious to the drama around her. Lucas confirms the scar.
“They burned her with a candle, in some sort of ritual.” I struggle to make sense of what I saw, try to find details that might be useful amidst the fear and pain.
“Ritual?” Dustin asks.
“A crowd watched, and her mother told her to make them proud. A man she hated grabbed her wrist and forced her to hold her hand over a candle.”
“That’s sick,” Lucas says.
“The man said she would be one of them. She didn’t want to do it, but he forced her.” A huge shudder convulses through my body. “She held her hand open, let him burn her. I smelled the burning skin.” My mouth waters suddenly and I swallow hard.
My eyes fall on Addlynn’s pale freckled face. “You were so brave. Are so brave,” I whisper to the girl. “Who did this to you?”
Chapter 7
Dustin
Gabby probably thinks she’s being cute sending me to get her snacks. I’m a detective, not a waiter. I see the ploy for what it is, a reason to get me out of the room. I don’t mind. I know what she’s going to do, and frankly I’m not sure I want to watch.
Message in the Fire Page 4