by CJ Lyons
Leah froze as she read the card one more time. Not from fright but because there were about eight hundred and eleven things she needed to be doing. Run after the bastard who’d left the roses, gather Emily in her arms and flee, call the police…
She carefully lowered the card and set it on the nightstand, trying not to touch it more than she already had. She took a breath and centered herself as if facing a mass casualty alert in the ER. Triage. What was her priority?
Emily’s safety.
Leah grabbed the bag that contained what little they had—she still hadn’t gotten any clothing for Emily so the hospital PJs would have to do—slung it over her shoulder, and with practiced hands scooped Emily’s limp body from the bed without waking her. Then she backed out of the room, scanning for hidden dangers, spun around in the doorway, and left.
Had whoever left the roses stayed to watch her reaction? Maybe he’d follow her, knowing she’d never risk Emily by staying? Was she playing right into his hands? The low murmur of Arthur and a nurse discussing something with a patient’s mother was the only activity coming from the nurses’ station. A little girl looking wan and scared was in a red transport wagon, bundled with blankets, an IV pole hanging above her, the transport attendant and her parents trundling her toward the elevator, and a white-coated doctor whom Leah didn’t recognize from the back following them.
No sign of Jericho’s promised extra security. But also no sign of anyone out of place. Leah waited for the elevator doors to close behind the group of people, then started toward the stairwell, heading toward the safest and most private space left to her: her office down in the ER. If she had a free hand, she’d be calling Jericho, giving him an earful about his so-called protection, but that would have to wait.
Emily woke as Leah strode down the hall. “Mommy? I smell pizza. Is Daddy back?” She rubbed the sleep away against Leah’s neck. “Did he bring me my pepper-ronny?”
A family joke from when Emily was first starting to talk. She’d been late to speech—would have had both Ian and Leah worried except that all her other developmental milestones had been fine. When she finally did decide to speak, her first words had been, “I want pizza, please.” The memory of Ian wiping smeared tomato sauce from her chubby toddler cheeks made Leah blink. It felt like yesterday. Worse. It felt like tomorrow. As if she could glance over her shoulder and see Ian following behind her, a carryout box from Tonio’s balanced in his hands.
Then Emily jerked fully awake, straining to climb down from Leah’s arms. “Where’s Daddy? Where are we going? How’s he going to find us?”
Emily clawed at Leah as if her mother were the enemy—Leah felt like one as she lowered Emily to the ground, wrapped her fingers around Emily’s arms, and crouched down to meet her gaze.
“Emily, Daddy’s gone.” Leah understood from Emily’s expression that she knew that, hadn’t forgotten—it was simply a child’s desperate hope that sleep had magically erased an unpleasant reality. “We’re going down to my office.” Leah searched for a way to explain things so that Emily wouldn’t be frightened. “For a special lunch. Okay?”
Emily didn’t like the idea. She balled up one fist and rubbed her eyes. Then she nodded, blew her breath out in a long-suffering sigh, and took Leah’s hand as if she were the parent, not the child.
Leah had originally intended to take Emily down the stairs but Emily tugged her to the elevator. She was still young enough to see them as amazing conveyances rather than the too-small, too-smelly, too-slow deathtraps that Leah did. Emily never let go of her hand the entire trip down. Which was fine with Leah, who was focused on her next steps: call Jericho, find food for her daughter, then a place to stay, clothing, she still needed her car…
By the time the elevator stopped on the ground floor, Leah realized Jessica was right: she couldn’t do this alone. She needed help. Another adult. Someone who understood. Who wouldn’t ask too many questions or try to coax Leah into sharing her feelings—feelings that were too sharp, too explosive to be let loose, not yet.
Remembering the man who’d accosted her earlier, Leah steered Emily down the back hallway, avoiding the chaos of the ER and its waiting area, and took the long way around to her office. Once they were safely inside, she felt as if she could finally breathe.
Emily tugged her arm. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”
Leah dumped her bag beside her desk and crossed over to the desk across from hers and rummaged in the side drawer. Andi always had a stash of protein bars and other, less healthy treats. She grabbed a bag of pretzels and a protein bar and handed them to Emily along with a bottle of water. It made for a poor lunch but would stave off any hangry meltdowns until she could get Emily something more nutritious.
“Here you go.” She lifted Emily onto her desk chair and set a hospital notepad and several colored dry erase markers and an assortment of highlighters beside her. “When you’re done, you can draw me some pictures.”
Emily bit into the protein bar but eyed Leah warily as Leah edged toward the door. “You’re not leaving?”
“No. I just need to make a few calls. Can you be quiet for just a minute?”
“Then can we go home? I want Huggybear.”
Leah stared at her daughter, no idea how to explain why they couldn’t go home—might never go home again—much less the fact that Emily’s beloved teddy bear was now part of a crime scene. “I’m working on it,” was the best she came up with.
Emily pursed her lips—an expression she’d stolen from Leah, Ian always insisted. But the calculation in her gaze was pure Ian. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.” Then she turned back to hunch over her makeshift coloring tools.
Leah sighed and dialed Jericho’s number. “Dr. Wright, I’m a bit busy right now,” he answered, the distant sounds of a car’s engine echoing his words.
“What happened to the protection you promised us?” She allowed her anger to color her voice until she saw Emily’s head snap up, alert to Leah’s mood. She lowered her tone and chose her words with care. “Someone left a bouquet of roses in my daughter’s bed. While she was sleeping. With a note. Like last night.”
“Where? At the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Are you secure? Where are you now?”
“In my office, with Emily.”
“Stay there. I’m on my way.”
“But—” Too late, he was gone.
Leah returned to Emily, caressing her hair. She’d drawn her blackspaceman again, almost filling the page with his oversized head, only now she’d added color: elongated drips of red extending from his fingers, a river of color at his feet, splashes against his helmet. So much red that there was barely any white left on the sheet of paper. But Emily wasn’t done, her hand slashing with the red marker against the black figure over and over as if she was trying to do to him what he’d done to Ian.
Leah pressed her knuckles to her lips as she watched in horror. Jessica said to let Emily express her emotions. Emily’s movements became more frenzied although her expression remained calm—as if she didn’t even realize what she was drawing. Surely Jessica hadn’t meant this? It couldn’t be healthy. Could it?
She needed help. Maggie had just worked a night shift, was probably home sleeping. Her friends in the ER—yes, friends, but also colleagues—she couldn’t ask them, it would alter the dynamics too much, create invisible friction. Neighbors? Most of them were elderly and because of Leah’s strange work schedule with its always changing shifts, Ian knew them better than Leah. When they’d first moved here Leah had been so focused on taking care of Nellie and on her new job, she’d somehow missed having a life outside of work and home. Not that she regretted it—she loved her life.
But now that life was destroyed, and she was racing around like a rat in a maze, dragging Emily with her.
Time. She just needed to buy herself time to think. She fumbled Jessica’s card from the pocket of her scrubs. The words on it were so sharp and clear, a beacon of hope—or if not hope, at l
east relief.
Leah took out her phone. As she hesitated, she could hear Ian’s voice, heckling her for being a control freak, too damn proud and independent. In their relationship, she was the one who never asked for directions, always knew where she was going and how to get there. He was the wanderer, content to amble and chat with people, no shame about asking for directions or help or even where to head next. Letting fate and chance and random strangers decide their next adventure.
She drew in a breath and dialed.
“Good Samaritan Free Clinic, Dr. Kern speaking.”
“Jessica? It’s Leah Wright. Would it be okay if I took you up on your offer? I think maybe… I need help.” Leah explained the situation in a whispered tone, her cell pressed against her cheek.
“I saw it on the news,” Jessica said. “That man who attacked you in the ER. Horrible. Why didn’t you mention it earlier?”
“It’s on the news?” That explained why her phone was blowing up with texts and voicemails. She’d turned it off while Jessica was interviewing Emily and now regretted turning it back on.
“Come to the clinic. You’ll be safe here,” Jessica promised. “I’ll send someone over to get you. His name is Brody. You can take the tunnel over. There’s no way any reporters could be down there to ambush you—or see where you’re going.”
Which also meant no one would be able to track her to the clinic building across the street from the main hospital. “Thanks.”
Leah hung up, texted Jericho with the change of plans, then turned to Emily, who had stopped her drawing to watch, her eyes hooded. The novelty of the day had clearly worn off, replaced by worry. “Dr. Jessica is over at the clinic and we can get lunch there. Are you still hungry?”
Emily’s face was smeared with chocolate and pretzel crumbles, but Leah wasn’t surprised when she nodded.
“Okay. Let’s clean up your drawing stuff.”
A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Leah opened it cautiously. A man in his twenties appeared. He smiled when he saw her, even gave her a jaunty wave. “Hi, again.”
She stepped back in surprise. “You’re the man from the ER this morning. The one who helped me.”
“I’m Brody. Dr. Kern sent me to escort you and your daughter. She wanted to make sure you didn’t run into any trouble.” He tapped a volunteer’s ID badge hanging from the collar of his shirt.
The photo matched his face, Leah saw. Emily ran up beside her, half-hiding behind her legs, half-poking her head out, unable to resist her curiosity.
Brody squatted down to meet Emily’s gaze. “You must be Emily. My son, Charlie, he’s not quite your age. He’s with the doctor now at the clinic. But he said to tell you that the playroom is super dooper.” He glanced up at Leah. “If it’s okay with your mom, of course.” He rose back to his feet. “Oh, and there’s banana pudding for dessert today.”
There was no way Brody could know, but he’d just spoken the magic words Emily needed. She gave a tiny squee and tugged at Leah’s hand. “Mom, Mom, did you hear?” Then she scowled at Brody in suspicion. “Banana pudding and… Nilla wafers?”
It was a test. But Brody passed with flying colors. “Well, of course. You can’t have one without the other. But it’s dessert—I’ll bet your mom will want you to eat your veggies first. There’s broccoli and carrots and the main course is chili mac.” He shrugged at Leah. “Nothing fancy, but good comfort food.”
Leah couldn’t help but smile as Emily’s expression finally approached one she was familiar with—bright, unguarded, no shadow of fear or worry. She knew it wouldn’t last long, but it was a relief to know it was still there. “Comfort food is perfect. Thank you, Brody.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Brody led them down the seldom-used rear staircase to the basement floor where the entrance to the tunnels lay. The oldest tunnels, including this one, had been built as part of Good Samaritan over a hundred years ago, designed to give nursing students safe passage from their dormitory—the building that now housed the free clinic—to the main hospital. The path was well marked and, in keeping with its original purpose, well lit.
As they walked through the white-washed brick-walled tunnel, a bevy of hospital workers crossed their paths. Busy with their own work, no one did more than glance at Leah.
Brody walked on Emily’s free side, matching his stride to hers despite his longer legs.
“So, you volunteer here at the hospital?”
“Lots of us clinic parents do—Dr. Kern calls it community service in return for all the stuff she helps us with. My boy, Charlie, he’s got cystic fibrosis, so he’s here at Good Sam all the time. Used to be, at least. But Dr. Kern, she’s a miracle worker, has him on new medicine that’s finally helping. He’s getting some testing done now but maybe when he’s done he can play with Emily—he’s a wiz at Candyland.”
“That’s my favorite,” Emily said.
“Dr. Kern is your son’s physician?” Leah asked. “She’s a neuropsychiatrist, not a pediatrician.”
“When she took over as clinic director, she saw how all the specialists kept making things worse for Charlie—the GI guy would start a medicine that messed up the lung doc’s treatment, stuff like that. So when Charlie got really sick, she stepped in to coordinate his care, get everyone talking to each other, on the same page. He was so bad off, they told me he might die. But, thanks to Dr. Kern, now he’s doing great.” He sighed and touched the knit cap he wore. “I owe her everything.”
Leah frowned. She would remember a kid that sick if he’d been in her ER. But Brody looked so familiar—she remembered also thinking that this morning when she’d first met him. Maybe she’d seen him in passing in the cafeteria or waiting room? “I didn’t get a chance, this morning, to thank you.”
“I’m just glad you’re all right. Sorry he got away.”
“He did?” Leah’s gait faltered. Could the man from the ER have brought the flowers to Emily’s room? He would have had plenty of time, but how could he have known where to find Emily?
“Ran out before the guards could grab him. Don’t worry, though. We’ll keep you two safe.” Brody’s tone was confident.
It felt like suddenly Leah had more than Jessica on her side—Brody spoke as if the entire clinic, staff and families, were sworn to protect her and Emily. She knew that wasn’t what he really meant, but still, it felt good knowing there were others far less exhausted and brain-muddied keeping an eye on Emily. Right now she was so sluggish she didn’t trust her own judgment.
“Guess it was karma I was there,” Brody said. “I mean, I owe you a lot more than that.” Leah frowned, her pace slowing. He flushed and looked away. “You don’t remember me. No reason you would—I was a lot younger then and you probably saw tons of kids like me.”
“I treated you?”
He ducked his head as if embarrassed. “Yes, ma’am. Back in Pittsburgh. I was dead, but you brought me back.”
She squinted once more at his name tag, this time he stopped and held it steady so she could actually read his name. Allan Broderick. Realization flooded over her. It was over four years ago, just before she left Pittsburgh to come to Cambria City. Sixteen-year-old kid caught in a drive-by shooting. Brought in no vitals, down an unknown length of time before Leah got to him, multiple gunshot wounds.
She remembered the blood, his shirt shredded into his wounds along with street gravel and chips of brick that had ricocheted from the building behind him. Remembered how young he’d looked when she’d finally glanced up from cracking his chest, her hands plunged wrist deep into his body, and she’d caught a glimpse of his face. Just a baby, she’d thought at the time. All those kids coming in during that summer of some gang’s bloody turf war, they’d all been so young, mere babies. “Allan Broderick.”
“Brody’s what everyone calls me now.” He finally raised his head, almost but not quite meeting her eyes. “You weren’t there anymore when they let me out of the hospital—took most of a year before I could
go home. My brain was so messed up I had to learn everything again. Still have some memory glitches, but anyway, I always wanted to say thanks. Now I finally can.”
“You’re welcome,” she stuttered, still taken aback. “You are so very welcome. I’m just glad—wait, you have a kid? How old?” Brody himself couldn’t be more than twenty, twenty-one.
He beamed. “Charlie’s three. He only just came into my life—his mom’s out of the picture, I guess you could say.” They arrived at the doors leading into the clinic building. “He’s my everything. I live to see him smile, know what I mean?” He glanced down at Emily, who was unabashedly soaking in their every word. “Yeah. You do.”
Brody stood aside, waiting a beat, catching Leah’s gaze as if making sure she was ready, before he swiped his ID to open the door and hold it for her and Emily. “I know you’re scared,” he said in a low voice. “But don’t worry. The doc will take good care of you. Just like she has me and Charlie. Dr. Jessica saved us.”
Leah held Emily’s hand as they passed through the security doors into the clinic building’s lowest floor. Brody followed behind.
“Dr. Jessica’s office and the playroom are on the fourth floor,” Brody said, playing the role of tour guide. He nodded to Emily as they reached the elevator bank. “Want to push the button? Charlie always likes to push the buttons.”
Emily tapped the call button. A waiting car opened its doors and they entered. “Can you find four?” he asked.
Emily pushed the correct button and turned to Brody. “I can count to infinity.”
“You can?”
“Sure. Once you make it past the first hundred, it’s easy.”
“She gets it from her dad,” Leah said. “The genius gene. But Emily, remember, it’s not nice to boast.”
Her face fell and Leah regretted her words. This was no time to be nagging—but somehow that had become her side of the parental seesaw. Ian and Emily flew free while Leah was the anchor constantly pulling them back to earth.
“I don’t think it’s bragging if you’re telling the truth,” Brody said. “Especially not if you share what you know with your friends. Maybe when Charlie’s done with his treatment you can teach him how to count real high like that.”