I couldn’t believe how exhausted I was after such a short burst of activity. I sat on the bed and waited for Ed to come back. My room was an island floating in a sea of sound: voices, bells ringing, babies crying, women yelling out in labour, trolleys chugging down the hallway. I wanted to go home. Tears threatened again and I brushed them away. Home wasn’t the same anymore.
Ed knocked and poked his head around the door. ‘Ready?’
‘Is the kitchen …?’ I let the sentence dribble to a halt. Images of Mum’s blood pooled on the floor flashed through my mind.
‘I was going to go and sort it out before I came to see you this morning, but Phil had beaten me to it.’
I closed my eyes with relief. When I opened them, Ed had pushed a wheelchair into the room.
‘I don’t need that,’ I said.
‘I know. I just thought it might help. If I keep you moving quickly you might not have any visions?’
I thought about it. If I were moving quickly, maybe I wouldn’t be on a spot where someone had died for long enough. ‘It’s worth a try, although I don’t think it helped last time I was in a hospital,’ I said.
‘Even if it doesn’t work I can get you out of here before anyone asks too many questions.’
I climbed into the chair and we made our way out of the room and past the nurses’ station. I picked up my discharge instructions and we left the maternity ward. I half expected someone to tell me I’d forgotten my baby on the way out.
The corridors that ran towards the general wards were less crowded than in Maternity, and the mood more sombre. People weren’t visiting for happy reasons. The décor was different too. Gone were the happy decals of frolicking animals, balloons and flowers, replaced by plain green walls dotted with signage and the occasional framed print. The vastness of the green expanse made the artwork look like postage stamps swimming in a sea of pea soup.
Our first destination was Mum’s room. I could hear her voice from twenty metres away, in the strident tone she usually saved for people who were stupid, rude or both. We found her propped up against a wall of pillows. Her arm was in a sling, her hair a riotous halo and the expression on her face pure belligerence. A harried-looking nurse was holding a medicine cup with some capsules in it. She was young, early twenties, short and slim with pale brown hair pulled back in a neat bun. They both swung their attention towards us as we entered.
‘Cass! Ed!’ Mum exclaimed, a smile banishing her scowl.
‘Mum! I’m so glad you’re OK. I’m so sorry …’
‘Stop. Don’t.’
‘But …’
‘It’s not your fault, and I’m not going to let you go there.’ The frown was back.
Ed had pushed me up to her bed and I stood up and bent over her, hugging her awkwardly, careful not to touch her hurt shoulder.
‘You’re looking better, Anita,’ Ed said.
‘Better than what?’ Mum said.
‘So what’s the story?’ I looked at her and then the nurse who’d been standing patiently to one side.
‘They think I need to stay here another night. They’re worried about infection.’
‘Your mother has a temperature. The doctor wants to make sure the wound isn’t infected. She needs to take some antibiotics and paracetamol for the fever,’ the nurse said, waving the cup in Mum’s direction.
That explained the strident tone. Mum hated taking pills. She was a firm believer in naturopathic remedies — so long as it was her health at issue. If Gran or I got sick, she was the first one rushing off to the chemist for drugs to shove down our throats just to be on the safe side.
‘If you want to come home tomorrow, Mum, you’d better take the medicine, otherwise you could be in here a lot longer.’ I locked eyes with the nurse, willing her to back me up. She caught my eye.
‘That’s right, Mrs Lehman. If that wound gets infected, you could be in here for several more days.’
Mum scowled. ‘This is blackmail.’ She held out her hand for the cup. The nurse passed it to her, along with a cup of water, and Mum downed the contents.
‘There. Happy?’ She glared at all of us.
‘Excellent. Now that wasn’t so hard was it?’ The nurse beamed at Mum.
Mum gave her a look that would have sent me scurrying for cover.
‘I’ll check on you in another hour. Don’t talk for too long, you need your rest.’ The last statement was said to Mum, but the accompanying look was clearly directed at me and Ed.
‘We won’t stay long,’ I said.
The nurse left. Ed took a chair on the other side of the bed and we all sat there, suddenly lost for words.
‘Have you seen Gran?’ Mum finally asked.
‘No, we’re going there next.’
Mum dipped her head. ‘What happened, Cass? I don’t remember anything past being shot.’
‘He made Gran try to heal him again after you’d been shot. It was horrible, Mum. I could see her precious energy draining away,’ I said.
‘I don’t really understand why he was letting her try to heal him,’ Ed said.
‘She told him she could heal his emotional pain.’
‘She wasn’t strong enough for that,’ Mum said.
I covered my face with my hands.
‘What?’ Mum demanded.
‘He had his eyes closed. I managed to grab the gun off his lap. He opened his eyes just before I shot him and he told me I didn’t need to shoot him because he was feeling wonderful.’
Mum reached out and took my hand. ‘So why did you?’
‘Because he was killing Gran. She was getting weaker and weaker, and I was worried she was going to die in front of me.
Ed reached out and took both of our hands.
‘Listen, you two. I understand what Cass just told you but not many people would. That never leaves this room, OK? You shot him because he lunged at you and you were scared he was going to kill you and your family. Got it?’
‘Phil said the same thing.’
‘Of course she did,’ Ed said.
‘It’s not far from the truth,’ Mum said.
‘Exactly, it’s just being economical with some of the facts. No one needs to know about Gwen’s talent. We don’t want a media frenzy.’
Mum nodded, her eyelids drooping. I stood up.
‘I think you’d better get some sleep. Arguing with the nurse has tired you out. We’ll go over and see how Gran’s going and pop back and see you before we go.’
‘Ed?’ Mum said.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m glad you’re staying at our place with Cass tonight.’ Her eyes twinkled.
‘Mum! You didn’t!’
She laughed.
I huffed with annoyance. She must have had a peek at Ed’s future when he was holding her hand.
‘I’m never going to get used to this family,’ Ed said, shaking his head.
He wheeled me out of the room and we wound our way along a few more corridors until we arrived at the High Dependency Unit. The doors were locked and we had to sanitise our hands and buzz to be let through.
Ed spoke into the intercom and the door clicked and swung open.
‘Cass …’ Ed looked at me with worry creasing his forehead.
‘It’s all right, you don’t need to warn me. I know how sick she is.’
‘Let’s go then.’
We entered a room where the beds were clustered in a circle around a central nurses’ station. The only conversation was coming from the nurses. The patients were silent other than the occasional moan or cough. Machinery whirred and beeped at every bedside, creating a backdrop of white noise.
An older nurse met us as we walked in and directed us to a bed over on the far side of the room. She had short, white-blonde hair and was in her late fifties. She gave an impression of calm, unflappable efficiency — exactly what you want when you’re visiting someone who’s critically ill.
‘How is Gwen Carmichael doing today?’ Ed asked.
‘Not we
ll, I’m afraid. Her blood pressure is way down and her pulse is erratic. We’re also struggling to keep her core temperature up. The doctors are a bit baffled. We’ve run all sorts of tests and we can’t seem to find any underlying cause. There’s no disease or problem with her vital organs that we’ve been able to identify. Were either of you with her when she became unwell?’ she asked, leading the way across the room.
‘I was,’ I said.
‘The doctor wants to talk to you. He wants to know a bit more about what happened. I’ll give him a call.’
I nodded, but I was only half listening to her. My attention was focused on the slight form in the bed we were approaching. Gran was lying almost flat. She was hooked up to oxygen and a drip. But it wasn’t the tubes that bothered me, it was how tiny and frail she looked against the sea of white and stainless steel.
‘How are you travelling, Cass?’ Ed asked.
I read the double meaning in his words. There was no doubt that people would have died in the beds that circled the room, but I figured that as long as I didn’t lie in any of them, I would be OK.
‘So far so good. Push me closer to Gran, please.’
‘You sure?’
I wanted to touch her hand. I was terrified, but I needed to do it. I’d touched the hand of a man on life support once before and discovered he was dead, long gone. I had to keep reminding myself that Gran wasn’t on life support. Being in a coma wasn’t the same thing. I reached out and grabbed her hand. Her skin felt cold and I closed my eyes, praying.
After a few seconds I opened them again. The room was the same. Gran was the same. Ed was leaning over me with a frown on his face.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘But she’s so cold.’
I bent my head down and pressed her hand against my cheek. The tears I’d been holding back overflowed and I cried silently, my shoulders shaking. Ed rested a hand on my back, patting me in an awkward attempt at comfort.
‘Gran?’ I said. ‘Come back to us. Mum and I need you. You’re strong, you can do it.’ I lifted my face away and wiped the dampness off her skin. I stroked her hand, wishing I could heal her like she’d healed me so many times before.
‘Miss Lehman?’ A male voice interrupted my misery.
I turned. A doctor was behind us. The guy must have broken the land speed record to get to the ward so fast. He was good-looking, tall with dark hair and an olive complexion. He wore a dark suit, which made me think he must be a specialist. His elegance suddenly made me conscious of my wild hair, runny nose and bloodshot eyes.
‘I’m Dr Richards. Can I speak to you for a few minutes?’
‘Sure,’ I said, sniffing and brushing the tears off my cheeks.
He looked in Ed’s direction.
‘It’s OK. This is my partner, Ed.’
‘Right.’ Dr Richards barely acknowledged Ed before grabbing a chair and sitting down. ‘I’m a cardiac specialist, but to be honest with you I’m not sure if I’m the right person to be treating your grandmother. Her blood pressure has been very low. Her heart rate is also low and her core temperature is way below what it should be.’
My own heart had twisted into a painful knot in my chest.
‘It’s almost as if she’s suffering from hypothermia, except her brain activity is off the charts. Can you tell me what happened?’
‘How much do you already know?’ I asked.
‘I know your family was held hostage by a convicted criminal who’d escaped from a psychiatric facility. That’s about it.’
‘He was waving a gun. Gran tried to calm him down. It seemed to be working until he got very agitated and shot my mum. I managed to wrestle the gun off him and shoot him. I think the fear and strain was too much for Gran. She fainted.’
‘Fainted?’
‘Yes, passed out.’
‘Her physical state was consistent with severe shock when she first came in, but she should have started to show signs of recovery long before this.’
I looked at him. I wasn’t prepared to say more. Trying to explain Gran’s talent and the toll it took on her would fly in the face of everything this guy had ever learned. ‘Will she get better?’ I asked. I had to ask, but I was afraid of the answer.
He met my eyes. ‘I’m going to be honest. I’m quite worried about her.’
I felt the tears coming again and bit my lip to try and stop them.
‘We’ll do everything we can.’
I couldn’t speak and it was too hard to meet his eyes.
Ed saw that I was struggling. ‘Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate all your efforts. She’s very special to us.’
He walked away and I went back to resting my head against Gran’s hand. Ed’s phone trilled, earning him a glare from one of the nurses. She pointed towards a sign on the wall above Gran’s head: a picture of a mobile phone with a large red cross over it.
‘Cass, do you mind if I step out? Phil wants me to call her. She wouldn’t have phoned if it wasn’t important.’
‘That’s fine. I’m happy to just sit here,’ I said. As grateful as I was for his help, I wanted some time alone with Gran.
I watched as he made his way back across the room and through the secure door. I turned back to Gran. Her face was so white it almost matched her hair. I rubbed her hand, trying to get some warmth back into it, then I closed my eyes and thought of all the happy times we’d shared together. My whole life was full of memories about our home, and she was at the centre of every one.
A montage replayed itself behind my eyelids: the three of us sitting around the table in the kitchen eating her delicious food, walks around the cliffs to try and burn off the calories, sitting in the sunroom chatting and reading, pottering around in the garden together and bagging up her dried herbs to take into town. She was such a central part of my life. I couldn’t imagine it without her. The thought intruded like a yawning chasm of blackness. I banished it and focused on the good times.
I kept rubbing her hand, wishing some warmth and life back into it, willing my energy to flow into it. I didn’t even realise I was doing it until a thin voice interrupted my concentration.
‘Darling, stop rubbing so hard, I won’t have any skin left.’
My eyes flew open. I looked over at her. She’d tugged the oxygen mask down and she was looking at me through half-closed lids.
‘You’re awake!’
‘I am. I was having such a nice dream about the three of us sitting in the sunroom.’
I blinked. I’d been thinking about the sunroom — had I transferred that thought to her? We had a close bond and she could often read me but actually planting a thought in her mind? That was a new one. She closed her eyes again.
‘Gran!’ I pushed myself up out of my chair and looked around for the nurse.
Her eyes opened again.
‘Yes?’
‘God, you gave me a fright. I thought you’d gone.’
‘Gone? Don’t be silly,’ she whispered.
The nurse came over to see what was going on.
‘She’s awake,’ I said.
The nurse moved to Gran’s side and peered down at her. ‘Welcome back, Mrs Carmichael. It’s nice to have you with us. Let’s put the oxygen back on, shall we?’ She checked all the monitors, then took Gran’s blood pressure and temperature. I sat back down and watched. Gran’s eyes fluttered shut again after a couple of minutes.
‘Well, her BP and pulse have improved and her core temperature has risen. I don’t know what you did, but having you here seems to have done what the doctors couldn’t.’ She smiled at me. ‘She’s still very sick, but this is a step in the right direction.’
CHAPTER
24
Ed was so busy wallowing in the blanket of guilt that had descended over him since dropping Cass at home in Jewel Bay he almost missed the turn-off to Fairfield. Swearing, he slammed his foot on the brake and wrenched the wheel around, only just managing to avoid sliding onto the gravel verge.
Heart thudding, he swore again and dra
gged his attention back to the road. Phil had called to tell him that just as the team were winding up their efforts at the dump, they’d stumbled across some more human remains. Sonya, the Fairfield pathologist, had done a preliminary review and Phil had thought Ed would want to hear the initial findings.
He hadn’t liked dropping Cass at her house and leaving straight away. Sure, he’d made her a cup of tea and tucked her up in a rug in the sunroom, but it still felt like he was abandoning her. Her words of reassurance hadn’t quite rung true.
‘Of course you need to go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’ But she wouldn’t look him in the eye when she said it.
‘You don’t feel uncomfortable being here by yourself?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is my home. It’d take more than some lowlife like Jenson to spoil that for me. It was nice of Phil to get cleaners in.’
‘She thinks a lot of you.’
‘She’s grown on me too. Who would have thought?’
Stranger things had happened, but not many. If Anita had told him two years ago that she, Phil and Cass would one day have a casual lunch together at Mrs McCredie’s, he would have taken it as proof that her talent was a load of shit.
He swung into the underground car park at Fairfield Station and went to park in his usual spot, but a shiny blue BMW 3 Series was in his space. He parked his dusty white Commodore in one of the visitors’ spaces and tried to push away the irrational anger that had surged out of nowhere. He’d been gone nearly nine months. He knew it was ridiculous to think his car spot would be waiting for him. Still, he had a pretty fucking good idea who that nice new Beamer belonged to, and he had a sudden urge to run his keys down the extra-glossy paintwork on his way past. Childish, he knew, but so what?
He decided to skip the main office floor and head straight to the pathology suite. He owed Sorenson an answer about the job, but he still hadn’t spoken to Cass about it. Now, with Anita injured and Gwen’s life hanging in the balance, he was pretty sure she’d want to move back to Jewel Bay, but whether she’d want to move with him was another matter.
Missing (The Cass Lehman Series Book 3) Page 17