Adam quickly found a cup of water and a straw, and put the straw in her mouth.
Hannah sipped, and felt like it was her first drink of water on earth. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you. The man was telling me to run, and everything in me was thinking that it was the worst idea in the world, and yet, I could hear his voice in my ear, like the voice of God. I remember thinking, he’s a SEPTA guy. He probably knows what to do. And then I did what he said.’
‘Thank God,’ Adam said.
Hannah shook her head. ‘I don’t remember being hit. It’s just a blank.’ She looked around. ‘Where is Sydney?’
‘With Kiyanna and Frank.’
‘Oh, good,’ she said.
‘They’ve been great. They’ve really helped me out. She’s very confused and upset. She’s been having nightmares. Just awful.’
‘Poor baby. Oh, poor thing. How long have I been here? What’s wrong with me. I mean, these injuries . . . ?’
Adam sighed. ‘The accident happened three days ago. You have a mesh patch in your skull, because of the swelling from your brain. You have a broken arm. Your leg was lacerated and took fifty stitches to close.’
‘Wow,’ she said.
‘I almost lost you.’
Hannah smiled. ‘It’ll never happen.’
Adam smiled, and cupped her face with his hand. ‘I couldn’t stand that.’
‘I know. Me neither.’
They sat that way for a moment, unable to actually say all that they meant. They didn’t need to. Finally, Adam said, ‘There’s something we need to talk about. The police want to question you.’
‘Right now?’
‘When they find out you’re awake.’
‘OK.’
‘Hannah, listen,’ he said quietly. ‘When they question you, tell them you don’t want any pictures. Say you’re fearful of reprisal because they haven’t caught the guy yet. We don’t want your picture everywhere.’
‘You’re right,’ she said with a slight gasp. ‘That’s true. Our situation is still . . .’
‘Perilous,’ he said.
Hannah closed her eyes. ‘I won’t say anything.’
‘That’s my girl,’ he said. ‘Shall I bring Sydney up to see you later?’
‘Yes, please. If you don’t think it would be too much for her.’
‘I think it would do her good,’ Adam said.
‘I know it would do me good,’ said Hannah, smiling.
Adam sat beside her, squeezing her hand, and occasionally kissing her fingers. Then the door opened, and a nurse came in carrying a tray with a syringe.
‘You’re awake!’ the nurse cried.
Hannah nodded, and then looked at Adam. ‘How lucky am I?’ she said.
The nurse was quick to spread the word, and within an hour Hannah was visited by two doctors and a chaplain. Adam told his recovering wife that he was going to go and pick up Sydney and bring her to the hospital. Hannah allowed that this was the only reason she would let him out of her sight. They kissed tenderly before he left the room.
Hannah lay back against her pillow, exhausted. It was wonderful to know that she was going to live, but she still had a long way to go before she could even get up and out of this bed. She closed her eyes and, almost immediately, she was asleep.
A short time later, Hannah’s nap was disturbed by a knock at the door. Before she was fully awake and able to reply, it was pushed open by two men in jackets and ties.
‘Mrs Anna Whitman?’ asked the larger man. He had a deliberate, grave air about him.
‘Yes,’ she said.
The man nodded to his shorter, Asian-looking companion and then they both entered the room and stood beside her bed.
‘Mrs Whitman, my name is Detective O’Rourke. This is Detective Trahn. We need to talk to you about what happened in the subway.’
Hannah tried to force her fuzzy mind to focus. She was glad that Adam had reminded her of their situation. Lying in this anonymous bed, in a hospital gown, it was hard to even feel a sense of identity, never mind remember to hide the reality and stick with the story of their lives that they had created.
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘OK.’
‘Do you mind if we sit?’ asked O’Rourke.
Hannah shook her head, and O’Rourke nodded to Trahn, who pulled two chairs up beside the bed. The detectives sat down. O’Rourke set his briefcase on the floor beside him.
‘Now, tell us what happened as you remember it, Mrs Whitman.’
Hannah obediently recounted her descent into the subway, the various people on the platform, the sight of the approaching train, and then . . .
‘You don’t remember what happened?’ asked Trahn gently.
‘I really don’t,’ said Hannah.
‘Did you see who pushed you?’ asked O’Rourke.
‘No, sir,’ she said.
‘You just . . . felt yourself being pushed.’
Hannah nodded. ‘It was the strangest thing. If you’d told me this could happen, I wouldn’t really have believed it. I mean, I felt this jolt at the small of my back and then, nothing . . . I didn’t hear anything; I didn’t see anything. It’s all just a blank. How could you forget something like that?’
‘Actually that’s not uncommon,’ O’Rourke said reassuringly. ‘I’ve heard that from many trauma victims. The brain just shuts down for a few moments. Trying to protect you from a horrible reality, I guess.’
‘I guess,’ said Hannah.
‘So, you didn’t see who pushed you.’
Hannah shook her head.
‘The next thing you remember . . . ?’
‘I was on the tracks. I remember a woman reached her hand out to me but I couldn’t get to it. Then I heard this man from SEPTA telling me to run. And I heard it, you know what I mean? I heard it. Above all the noise and the commotion, I heard his voice. And that’s what I did. I ran.’
O’Rourke nodded and consulted his notebook. ‘We have varying accounts from the witnesses on the platform,’ he said. ‘One thing they all agree on. Apparently you were pushed by a man in a hoody. Height, weight, all of that — no consistency. But they all remembered the hoody. And the dark glasses.’
‘No one stopped him? After it happened?’
O’Rourke sighed. ‘That’s to be expected. People were so freaked out. They were focused on you. And on that train roaring into the station.’
Hannah shuddered.
‘By all accounts he ran back up the steps and out of the station. So far, we have not apprehended him.’
Hannah sighed. ‘Well, I hope you do.’
‘We will,’ said Trahn grimly. ‘It’s just a matter of time. Now, while it seems most likely that this person is mentally ill, Mrs Whitman, and that you were a random victim, we have to ask you this. Is there any reason you can think of for why someone would do that to you?’
Hannah hesitated, and then she felt almost faint at the thought which swam, for the first time, into her head. Then she shook it off. ‘No,’ she said.
‘What about your marriage,’ said O’Rourke. ‘Have you and your husband been having any problems? Any reason why he might see himself as better off without you?’
‘No, Detective,’ said Hannah angrily. ‘Our marriage is stronger than . . . It’s as strong as can be. We’ve had our problems, like any marriage. We’ve been together for over twenty years. So, obviously, we’ve had problems, had things go wrong. But no. The short answer is no.’
O’Rourke exhaled a deep breath and nodded. ‘OK, Mrs Whitman. Now, we have here . . .’ He reached down into the briefcase on the floor beside him and brought out an iPad. ‘This is footage taken by a security camera in the subway. Now, you say you didn’t even see your attacker . . .’
‘I didn’t,’ Hannah insisted.
‘The whole thing is on this footage. It may be very distressing for you to view it.’
Hannah felt suddenly depressed. Distressing? To see yourself attacked out of the blue. Pushed in front of a t
rain? Yes, that was distressing.
‘You look upset. Do you need us to wait on this until you’ve recovered a little more?’
Hannah shook her head and hesitated. Then she made up her mind. ‘No. He could be on another subway platform, right this very minute. Sizing up some other unsuspecting passenger. Let me see it. I want to see it.’
‘Very well,’ said O’Rourke. ‘I’m glad you feel that way. Trahn, can you work this damn thing for me,’ he said, offering the iPad to his partner.
‘Of course,’ said Trahn. He set the iPad up on the arm of the rolling tray table beside the bed, and swung it over in front of Hannah so that she could have a clear view. He turned on the iPad and some numbers came up on the screen. ‘Can you see it all right?’
Hannah nodded, looking at the screen in a kind of sick fascination. She began slowly to pick out some of the people she had seen on the platform. The school kids, the man in the tam, and she felt her heart jump with gratitude when she saw the woman who had reached out a hand to try to save her. She was standing on the platform, holding her shopping bag, conveying a sense of isolation that was calculated. Don’t talk to me, her body language said. Don’t get too close. But when the situation was desperate, that woman had offered her hand.
Then, with a jolt, Hannah saw herself coming through the turnstile, walking down the platform. Walking past that guy in the hoody slumped against the wall.
Was that him? she wondered. He looked so out of it.
She watched with a sickening fascination as she separated herself from the other passengers, and then froze as she saw something on the tracks. Now she remembered. That disgusting rat. The creature wasn’t visible in the video but her reaction to him was. She began to edge back toward the center of the platform. Toward her fellow passengers.
And then, though there was no sound, she could see the reaction of the others as the train approached. Every face turned in that direction, including her own.
Every face but one.
‘Now watch carefully,’ said Detective O’Rourke.
Suddenly, with a movement like lightning, the person in the hoody broke free from the crowd, was behind Hannah in a few steps, reached out and pushed.
Pushed her. Off the platform and onto the tracks. Hannah broke out in a sweat at the sight of it but she tried to concentrate. This is who they were looking for. This person in the hoody, who’d pushed her and turned away. As he turned, he faced the camera for a brief moment. Not long, but long enough.
‘I’m looking at your face, Mrs Whitman,’ said O’Rourke. ‘Do you see him? Is there any chance this is someone you recognize?’
Hannah was shaking her head from side to side as Trahn ran the sequence through again, and she covered her mouth with her fist to stifle a cry. This time she saw the hooded assailant get up from where he had been slumped against the wall. Rush up to her. Push her. Without hesitation. Push her onto the tracks.
‘I know it’s upsetting to watch. But try to think. Does he look familiar? Anything at all that you recognize about this person?’ O’Rourke asked.
‘Nothing. No,’ said Hannah.
Yes, she thought.
TWENTY-NINE
Still holding Sydney’s hand, Adam pushed open the door to Hannah’s room and looked inside. There was a light on over the bed but the bed was empty. Outside the window, the bright light of day had faded to charcoal gray, and a sliver of moon rose over the trees. From the doorway Adam could see that the bathroom door was open but the room was dark. There was nobody inside . . .
‘Where is Mom?’ Sydney asked fretfully.
‘I’m not sure. We’ll ask the nurse,’ he said.
Just then a young nurse in cheerful panda-bear scrubs came walking past.
‘Excuse me,’ he said.
‘Can I help you?’
‘My wife,’ said Adam. ‘She was in this room but she’s not here. She can’t really walk.’
‘Oh, your wife. I’m so sorry about what happened to her,’ said the nurse. ‘Honestly, you never know. You have to be on your guard all the time.’
‘What do you mean?’ he cried.
The nurse looked startled by his reaction. ‘I mean about that nut pushing her in the subway,’ she said.
‘Oh, right. Sure. Well, luckily, she’s getting better. You all are taking good care of her here. Do you, uh, know where she is?’
‘Yes. She’s down in the solarium. I saw one of our aides pushing her down there in a wheelchair earlier.’
‘Thank you,’ said Adam, relieved. He bent over and spoke to Sydney. ‘Come on. I know where to find Mom.’
Sydney was more than willing to accompany him. In fact, she wanted to skip ahead in the long corridor with its shining floors, but Adam gripped her hand tightly. They walked down the hallway toward the lounge at the end of the hall.
A lot of people passed the door to the lounge but Adam did not see anyone going in.
He hurried Sydney along, and arrived quickly at the door and looked inside.
At first, the dimly lit room, which was half-lounge, half-greenhouse, looked empty. Then, Adam made out the figure of Hannah. Wrapped in an oversized robe, she was sitting in a wheelchair near a window, partly shielded by the bank of plants which flourished in the normally sunny room. She was staring out the window, though it was really too dark to see anything but shadows.
‘Babe,’ he said.
Hannah did not turn around. If it had not been for the bandages wrapped around her head, Adam would have wondered if perhaps he was in the wrong place, if this woman sitting in the gloom was someone other than his wife. But Sydney did not hesitate. She cried out and rushed over to the wheelchair and tried to clamber up onto Hannah’s lap.
‘Sydney, no. Stop that,’ Adam exhorted her. ‘Mom’s had a lot of stitches.’
Now that he had reached her, Adam could see that, though she said nothing, despair was written on Hannah’s face. She did not cry out at the child making herself comfortable in her lap. She grimaced but wound her arms protectively around Sydney.
‘How’s my girl?’ she whispered.
‘I miss you,’ said Sydney.
‘I miss you too. But Pop says you’re staying with Miss Kiyanna and Mr Frank. Is it fun staying there?’
The child nodded sadly.
‘You like them, don’t you? Kiyanna and Frank are nice, aren’t they darlin’?’ Adam asked the child gently.
‘I want Mom,’ she insisted. ‘And you, Pop.’
Hannah looked up at her husband, puzzled. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘I’ve been sleeping here,’ he said. ‘They let me have a bed so I would be here when you woke up.’
Hannah reached out and clutched his warm, familiar hand. ‘I should have known,’ she said.
‘Tell you what,’ said Adam to Sydney. ‘Why don’t you come over here and sit? I brought this so you could watch a story. You want me to put Clifford on?’ he asked, referring to the series of books and videos about a Big Red Dog that Sydney enjoyed. He pulled a small-screen DVD player from his pocket. ‘You can watch Clifford while I talk to Mom.’
He tried to lift Sydney off of Hannah’s lap but she began to kick and cry out, ‘No. I won’t.’
‘Don’t kick, sweetheart,’ said Hannah. ‘It hurts.’
Sydney put a pudgy hand up to Hannah’s cheek. ‘Sorry,’ she said woefully.
‘It’s OK. You go look at your story. Everything’s OK. I’m right here. I won’t leave. Go on now.’
Reluctantly the child obeyed, and allowed herself to be stationed in the corner of a nearby sofa, the small screen clutched in her hands.
Adam came back and sat down beside Hannah.
He looked worriedly at his wife. ‘What’s the matter, babe? You looked better when I saw you earlier this afternoon. Did something happen?’
Hannah nodded. ‘Yes. I spoke to the police,’ she said.
‘How did that go?’
Hannah looked back out at the darkening day. ‘They
had a surveillance video of the accident.’
‘If you can call it an accident,’ Adam observed grimly.
‘Right,’ she said faintly.
‘Did you . . . did they ask you to look at it?’
Hannah nodded. ‘I looked at it.’
‘No wonder you’re shook up,’ he said. ‘I’m sure that had to be traumatic just seeing it unfold when you’re helpless to stop it.’
‘That’s not why,’ she said.
Adam frowned. ‘Why, then?’
‘The person who pushed me was on the tape. They kept referring to my attacker as “the guy in the hoody”. But I was able to see the face . . . Just for a second.’
‘And . . . ?’
Hannah turned her head and looked her husband squarely in the face. ‘The police asked me if I recognized him. On the off-chance this attack might not have been random. I said that I didn’t have any idea who he was.’
Adam did not reply but looked at her and felt himself dreading what she was going to say next.
‘That was a lie, Adam. I only saw her face for a second, wearing dark glasses, her hair covered up. But it didn’t matter. It was her.’
‘Jesus,’ he breathed. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’d know her anywhere.’ Hannah gazed at him hopelessly. ‘My own daughter pushed me in front of that train.’
Adam hung his head. ‘Oh, God.’
‘How am I supposed to live with that?’ she said.
‘Oh my God. I don’t know,’ he said. They were silent for a minute. He clutched her hand, which lay limp and unresponsive in his. Sydney, who was lying across the lounge on a sofa, laughed out loud at something on her screen.
Adam sighed. ‘This means she found us. She must have seen the YouTube clip. And figured it out from there.’
‘Apparently,’ said Hannah. ‘She must have been watching us. Waiting.’
‘Did you tell them anything? The police?’
Hannah looked at him bleakly. ‘No. How could I? You and I are fugitives. Kidnappers.’
‘I know,’ he said.
‘She must have been watching the house,’ said Hannah. ‘She must have followed me to the subway.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Adam.
‘You haven’t been back there, have you? To the house?’
I SEE YOU an unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist Page 23