Married to a Stranger

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Married to a Stranger Page 17

by MacDonald, Patricia


  An upside-down fan-shaped image appeared on the screen, covered by a mass of white blotches and streaks. The doctor looked at it, nodding, and then said, “Everything looks okay. Do you hear it?”

  “I hear it,” said Emma. The thump of her baby’s heart brought tears to her eyes. Dr. Weiss watched for another moment, and then switched off the machine. “The littlest patient is doing fine. How are you feeling?”

  “Better now,” she said. “I’m okay. Can I go home?”

  He looked doubtfully at her newly resutured and bandaged wounds. “I think you can, as long as you have someone to look after you,” he said.

  Emma nodded. “Could you find out if it’s all right for me to leave?” she asked.

  “Sure,” said Dr. Weiss. “Let me see if I can scare up the attending physician and have him sign for you to be released.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Emma said.

  The doctor stood up as the technician unplugged the sonogram machine and began to roll it out of the cubicle. “By the way, there is somebody outside who wants to see you,” Dr. Weiss said. “Are you up to some company?”

  “Who is it?” Emma said, but the doctor had already disappeared from the cubicle. Could it be David? she thought. And then she thought, no. Realistically, no. If David somehow found out she was here and tried to see her, the police who were guarding her would stop him and hustle him directly down to the police station. He was a suspect in their eyes. The prime suspect. And according to an update Emma had received from Lieutenant Atkins, the police had still not been able to find him, although they were definitely searching for him. Emma looked up as the doctor held the white curtain back, gesturing for the visitor to come in.

  Stephanie, looking pretty in a navy blue knit suit and a jaunty scarf, gave the young doctor a beguiling smile as she edged past the curtain that the doctor was holding open. “God, Em, are you all right?” she asked, bending over and kissing Emma gently on the forehead. “I heard about it on the car radio as I was driving back from Trenton. I tried to call David, but there was no answer, so I rushed over here.”

  Emma sighed. “Somebody tried to push me in front of the express train.”

  Stephanie clutched her chest. “I know. Oh my God.” She sat down in the molded plastic chair, which had just been vacated by Dr. Weiss. “Do they think it was the same guy as in the Pine Barrens?”

  Emma nodded. “Yes. He was wearing the ski mask and the hoody but yeah…it was the same guy. There’s no doubt now. Apparently it was not a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone wants me…gone.” She shuddered at actually saying the words aloud. “Detective Atkins thinks it’s my husband.”

  Stephanie rubbed the back of Emma’s hand absently, avoiding her gaze.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” said Emma.

  “I’m…just trying to take this all in.”

  “Is that what you think?” Emma asked.

  “I don’t think anything,” Stephanie insisted.

  “Yes, you do,” said Emma. “Tell me what you think. Let’s hear it.”

  Stephanie’s expression was pained. “Look, I like David. He’s a nice guy. And you two seem pretty happy….”

  “We just got married, for God’s sake. Why would he marry me and try to kill me on the same day?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he decided it was a mistake. You’re pregnant. You told me yourself that he proposed when you told him you were pregnant.”

  “But why marry me and then kill me and his baby? That makes no sense.”

  “Maybe he’s got a girlfriend. Men are cheaters,” said Stephanie. Emma knew that Stephanie was thinking of Ken, who had had several affairs while they were together. When Stephanie found out, she tossed his belongings out on the lawn and wouldn’t let him back into the house.

  “Steph, come on, we’re not talking about cheating. We’re talking about murder here,” Emma protested. “This guy who came after me with the ax meant to kill me. He actually did kill someone.”

  “Emma, I’m not trying to be mean, but you have to admit, you do have a lot of money. People kill for money all the time. It’s a fact. And only one person stands to profit by your death.”

  “He doesn’t care about money,” Emma insisted.

  “Everybody cares about money,” Stephanie said.

  “I know what you say makes…sense in a certain way. It’s exactly what the police are thinking. But it’s so hard for me to imagine. I married this man less than a week ago. Promised to love and cherish till death. Now people want me to believe that the man I entrusted my life to is actually trying to cause my death. My own would-be killer. Can you understand how that feels?”

  Stephanie did not reply.

  “I can’t make myself believe it,” said Emma.

  “But you hardly know him, Em. It was all so quick.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was wrong. David loves me.”

  “Yeah, well if he loves you so much, why isn’t he here?”

  Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know.”

  Stephanie immediately looked guilty. “Oh, Em. All right, let’s say he didn’t do it. If he didn’t, then who would? You don’t have any enemies.”

  Emma was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Obviously, I do.”

  “Anyone I know?” Stephanie asked.

  “I’m serious, Steph. There may be someone…I had a patient at the center who died. A young girl,” said Emma. “Her family, her father especially, blamed me. He even came to the center and threatened revenge after she…died. Security had to take him out.”

  “Was it a suicide?” Stephanie asked.

  “Eating disorder,” said Emma.

  “I don’t get it,” Stephanie. “Why would the guy blame you? I mean, surely there were medical doctors involved in his daughter’s treatment. By the time you get to the end stage of an eating disorder…”

  Emma hesitated. “While I was treating her, I began to suspect that he might be sexually abusing her.”

  “Who? The father?”

  Enma nodded.

  “Are most anorexics sexually abused? Was that what made you think it?” Stephanie asked.

  Emma shook her head. “No. Anorexia has many etiologies. And many consequences. I mean, one of them is certainly to stall or reverse sexual development, but that in itself doesn’t indicate sexual abuse. And, of course, this patient was depressed, but all anorexic patients are depressed. So, no. I wasn’t thinking that way. When I first met the parents I noticed that the girl’s mother was very…fleshy, very…provocative, in a way. I definitely did think the anorexia might be a reaction formation to her mother—to try to be as unlike her mother as possible. That would not be unusual in a teenager. But the more I talked to the patient, the more I began to think that her condition might be the result of her avoiding having to take on her mother’s role, so to speak.”

  “What do you mean?” Stephanie asked.

  “The role of a sexual partner,” said Emma grimly.

  “Oh. Oh shit.”

  “Exactly,” said Emma.

  “So what did you do?”

  “Well, I spoke to Burke, you know, my boss. He agreed with me that we needed to have a doctor at the hospital examine her, a gynecologist who specializes in sexual abuse cases. The physician agreed to do an exam on her. When the father found out about what we were planning, he was furious.”

  “So she never had the exam?”

  “No, she did have it. Her mother gave us permission. The doctor couldn’t find any physical evidence of penetration,” Emma admitted. “The father took her out of treatment.”

  Stephanie frowned. “And then the girl died.”

  “Several weeks later.”

  “So, you think you were wrong about the father?”

  “I may have been,” said Emma. “But there are different kinds of molestation. Without the physical evidence, there was nothing more I could do.”

  “Did you tell all this to that woman detective?�
� Stephanie asked. “The one I met at the hospital when I was visiting you?”

  Emma shook her head. “She knows about this guy. She went and questioned him. Now the guy is more furious than ever. He confronted me at the center today, after he got finished reading Burke the riot act. And what I started to tell you was that I noticed, as I was being carried out to the ambulance, that the music building, where Ly…the girl’s father works, is directly across from the train station. They’ve got those big, arched windows, and I could see the music students in there with their instruments.”

  “What’s that got to do with what happened to you?” Stephanie asked.

  “The train platform is visible from the music building. He could have seen me waiting there and come after me.”

  Stephanie frowned, but then she nodded. “I guess…it’s possible.”

  “But Lieutenant Atkins is fixated on David,” said Emma. “I know she is only concerned about my safety. But this is a blind spot with her. She was telling me that her own husband was…well, let’s just say she has a lot of negative feelings about marriage, it seems. So, in her eyes, it’s David or no one. She’s out looking for David right now.”

  Stephanie frowned. “Was your patient named Ivy Devlin?”

  Emma looked up sharply. “Why do you say that?”

  “Oh come on, Em. I teach at the middle school. There aren’t many kids who die from anorexia. It was Ivy Devlin, wasn’t it? Her sister is in one of my classes,” said Stephanie.

  Emma reddened. “Oh Lord, now I feel guilty. I shouldn’t have told you all this.”

  “Why? You didn’t say who it was. Or tell me what she said to you. Besides, Ivy’s dead, and somebody’s trying to kill you now. Why should you feel guilty for trying to figure it out before they succeed?”

  “Still, I was wrong to even discuss it.”

  Stephanie ignored Emma’s fretting. “Alida, that’s the sister. She’s undergone a real transformation lately. She used to be really shy and modest. Not anymore,” said Stephanie. “Not long after Ivy died, she started coming to school in full glittery makeup, bare midriff. Very junior sexpot.”

  “Uh-oh,” said Emma.

  “Why uh-oh?” said Stephanie.

  “Nothing, never mind,” said Emma. Although undeniably it worried her. Predators were known to repeat their behavior within the family. Sometimes children, long ignored, welcomed any sort of attention. Tried to please their abuser.

  “Yeah, but lots of girls dress like that in seventh grade. It’s the opposite of anorexia. She’s flaunting her sexuality,” said Stephanie.

  “I know. It’s the transformation and the timing of it that sets off alarm bells.”

  “Why?”

  Emma shook her head. “I shouldn’t be trying to analyze anyone at a distance. I could be completely wrong. Besides, I’m not an expert in this field. I had to do a lot of extra research and consult with colleagues just to get up to speed.”

  “You think he might be messing with her now? The father.”

  “Steph, I really cannot talk about this.”

  Stephanie looked at her thoughtfully. “He can’t be allowed to just get away with this. As one of her teachers, I could intervene. I could talk to Alida. She might confide in me,” said Stephanie.

  “Please, Stephanie, don’t get involved in this. I mean it. I should never have opened my mouth. I was really out of line.”

  “But the kid could still be suffering,” Stephanie cried.

  “Look, let me be blunt,” said Emma. “Alida might tell her parents if you started asking questions. I will tell you this. I think Lyle Devlin could be dangerous. Promise me you won’t…”

  “Don’t worry,” said Stephanie.

  Dr. Weiss pulled back the curtain at the front of the cubicle and looked inside. He was holding a clipboard with a form on it. He grinned at Stephanie before he spoke to Emma. “I have your release form here. If you want to sign it, you can be on your way.”

  “Great,” said Emma, reaching for the clipboard.

  “Is there someone who can pick you up and stay with you?”

  Before Emma could reply, Stephanie said, “She’s coming to my house.”

  Emma looked at her friend gratefully. “Thanks, Steph.”

  “She’ll have to leave in a wheelchair,” said Dr. Weiss. “The orderly is bringing one right now. Do you have a license to drive one of them?” he asked Stephanie in a teasing tone.

  “Actually, I’m not old enough,” Stephanie purred.

  Dr. Weiss reluctantly turned his attention back to Emma. “You need to speak to your attending physician before you go.”

  “Thanks,” said Emma.

  Once Dr. Weiss was gone, Stephanie helped Emma off the bed and into her dress, which was bloodstained and dirty. “We’ll wash this when we get home,” said Steph. “You can wear something of mine. We’re about the same size.”

  “Thanks, Steph,” said Emma. She tried to reach up to brush her hair, but her side was stinging.

  “Let me,” said Stephanie, brushing out Emma’s heavy, honey-colored hair and then, over Emma’s protests, dabbing some blusher on her pale cheeks.

  “Here,” said Stephanie, rummaging in Emma’s purse. “Put on some lipstick. You look like a ghost.”

  Emma did as she was told and then looked into her compact mirror at the results. Her hair glistened. Her skin glowed with a little color on her cheeks and lips. She did not look like a woman who had barely escaped being pushed into the path of a train, she thought.

  The attending physician came in and gave Emma instructions on the care of her wounds. “All right,” said Stephanie, after he left. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  Emma nodded. She was grateful to have such a caring friend, but her heart ached to think that her husband seemed to have abandoned her and was nowhere to be found. Maybe the police had caught up with him and were interrogating him right now. With a sigh, Emma gathered up her purse and the blue-green cape and started toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” said Stephanie. “Into the chair.”

  Emma obediently eased herself into the wheelchair and allowed Stephanie to push her out the door. The young police officer who was stationed outside the cubicle in the ER jumped to his feet at the sight of them.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “Hold it. Have you been officially discharged from here, Mrs. Webster?”

  Stephanie handed him the release form, and he examined it.

  “My friend is taking me to her house,” Emma explained.

  “Can you wait a moment?” he asked. “I need to call my CO for instructions.”

  “Sure,” said Stephanie.

  The police officer spoke on his two-way radio in a low voice and then turned back to them. “I’m to escort you to where you’re going,” he said. “Then there will be a patrol outside the house that will come around once an hour.”

  “Thank you, officer,” said Emma.

  “I’m parked out front,” said Stephanie. “We’ll go out the front door.”

  “Fine,” said Emma, trying to smile. “I’ll get a longer ride.”

  Following the signs, they wended their way out of the emergency ward, the uniformed policeman walking beside them, past the admitting, bookkeeping, and the lab areas until they reached the vestibule. As they turned the corner into the lobby area, Emma glanced at the elevators and let out a cry.

  “David!” He was holding a cardboard tray of coffee cups and was waiting for the elevator.

  David turned and looked in her direction. His eyes widened in alarm. The elevator doors opened, but he ignored them, dropping the tray on a nearby table and rushing toward her. He knelt down by the wheelchair and gathered her into his arms. “Baby, what are you doing here? I thought you went to New York. Are you all right?”

  The cop drew out his billy club and pointed it at David. “Excuse me. Do you know this man, ma’am?” he asked Emma.

  Every bit of anger she had felt vanished with the relief of seeing his
face. “This is my husband,” she said. “David Webster. What are you doing here? The police have been looking everywhere for you.”

  David rocked back on his heels. “Why? What’s happened?”

  Emma looked at him balefully. “I got pushed in front of a train.”

  “What?” he cried. “Oh my God. Oh, Emma.” He grabbed her hands and squeezed them so tightly that she winced.

  Emma nodded. “The same guy. In the ski mask. I was on the train platform, and he pushed me from behind. A skateboarder saved me. I tried to call you. You weren’t there.”

  The police officer tucked his club beneath his arm, pulled out his radio, and began to speak into it.

  “Jesus Christ. Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”

  “They’re both all right,” said Stephanie coolly. “I’m taking Emma home with me.”

  “This is all my fault,” David said. “I should never have let you leave the house that way. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”

  Emily shook her head. “You had no way of knowing. I mean, we both thought it was a random thing.”

  “Now we know better,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “How could anyone…?” His gaze looked tortured. “Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. What are you doing at the hospital, David?

  He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “Oh, I’ve been here for hours. My mother. She took a turn for the worse. Birdie called me in a panic after you left and said that Mother couldn’t breathe at all.”

  “Oh no.” Emma looked at him worriedly. “How’s she doing now?”

  He sighed. “She’s out of the woods now. She’s stabilized. They had to do some kind of procedure. Anyway, I was about to leave,” he said, gesturing toward the brown bag and tray on the table. “I just went out to get Birdie a cup of coffee.”

  The officer hooked his radio back into his belt and stepped between them, prodding David in the chest with his club. “Sir, can you stand up please? I’ve been instructed to bring you down to the police station with me. Right now.”

  “Officer, I think this is a misunderstanding,” Emma protested. “My husband has been here at the hospital all afternoon.”

 

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