“It’s not your fault.”
“Need some help?”
A tear strayed beyond my control. I swiped at it. Shook my head.
Jeff gathered me in a hug. He emboldened a few others to do the same. I even got a woman or two in the office to cry with me.
“Hey! You’ll have plenty of time to take care of those babies. And you gotta let us see the twins when they get here,” Rebecca the redhead said.
Despite their generous good-byes, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
My legs felt like they were made of lead. I trudged to the car and then home, feeling completely defeated.
Jazz doesn’t want me to work anyway.
Score one for Jazz.
Just then, my cell phone rang. I rarely charged it, so whoever tried to contact me caught me in good form. “This is Amanda,” I said.
“Bell, it’s Elisa. Rocky is sick. He’s in the hospital.”
That hale and hearty man is rarely sick. My heart dropped to my shoes. “What happened, Elisa?”
“We don’t know,” she sobbed. “He just got really sick. Vomiting. Diarrhea. Spitting up blood. They say he has severe gastroenteritis. I think he’s dying, Bell.”
I couldn’t think. One mantra repeated in my brain.
Help him, God. Help him, God. Help him, God. Please, help him!
When my thoughts could move past my litany of terror, Nikki Thunder’s face flashed before me. Her words: an accident could happen to someone you love.
I had very unflattering names for her in my mind.
Nikki had made good on her threat. I knew it with everything in me. But could I prove it? Who else did she harm? Had she been in contact with Jazz? Dear God!
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m here at the U with him. He’s in intensive care!”
“How long has he been sick?”
“Since this morning.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. What to do?
“Listen to me, Elisa. I think he’s been poisoned.”
“Poisoned? Bell, that can’t be.”
“Make them check him for poison.”
“What kind of poison?”
“I don’t know. Anything.”
I could hear the frustration and hesitation in her voice. “Why would somebody poison him?”
“You have to trust me. I can’t tell you everything now, but I guarantee you a threat was made and that Rocky was poisoned. Make them listen, Elisa. Let me save Rocky’s life like I saved yours.”
I heard her sniffle. She must have been gathering her courage. “Okay. I’ll try.”
“Do it, or he’s gonna die, Elisa.”
“I love him.”
“Then make them listen to you. I’ll prove it. I’ll prove it all. Just give me a minute.”
She started sobbing uncontrollably.
I hung up the phone, praying I was right. I needed to make another call; I called on Jesus.
I knew Carly had taken me off her favorite persons list, but I didn’t care. I called her cell phone and prayed she wouldn’t be so upset at my neglecting her in her Timothy crisis that she would refuse to talk to me.
“Hi, bunny!” she said cheerfully. She was so not mad after all.
“Don’t tell me. You and Timothy got back together.”
“Of course we did. I’m Carly Brown. Men don’t break up with me. He was temporarily insane.”
“Speaking of insane, Carly, I think something happened to Rocky.”
“So?”
“Carly, this is urgent.” A pause, where she no doubt decided I meant business.
“What’s going on, Bell?”
“He’s at the U. They say he has severe gastroenteritis. I think he’s been poisoned.”
“Bell, I’m not liking the sound of this.”
“What kind of poison would give those symptoms?”
A big pause.
“Carly!”
“Don’t do this. You have babies. You can’t. Don’t, Bell.”
“She tried to kill him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I don’t want to know. Don’t get involved.”
“He’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I’ll be lost without that catatonic-going goofball. I can’t let him die.”
“Bell. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want any part of it.”
“Nikki Thunder poisoned him. She threatened me. She said somebody I love could have an accident, and now Rocky is in intensive care.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“Carly, please, he may be dying. Please help me.”
She sighed into the receiver. “Arsenic mimics gastroenteritis, and it’s easy to get a hold of. Common rat poison is full of arsenic. I’ll make some calls to the U. I’ve got a few friends, but what I am supposed to tell them?”
“Tell them you’ve got a hunch. Pull a favor. Do what you gotta do, sis, but don’t mention Nikki Thunder.”
“You’d better be careful. You can’t afford to get hurt again.”
“I will. I promise. Thank you, Carly.”
“I’ll come by after work. How are the babies?”
“Fine,” I said. By faith, I added to myself.
My nerves felt as taut as rubber bands stretched to capacity. “She hurt my friend,” I said in a faltering whisper. “That evil woman hurt my sweet friend.”
Carly’s steely voice snatched me from the brink of despair. “You listen to me, Bell. I know you don’t believe this, but I trust you. I trust your instincts, even though I’m scared to death you just stumbled into something else that can hurt you. So you can’t fall apart. You have to be strong. If we can find out what poison he ate, we might be able to save him.”
“I’m not strong.”
“You are strong, Amanda Bell Brown. You think of your namesake. She wouldn’t have you fall apart. What would she say?”
I tried to pull myself back from that precipice I teetered on. “Let the weak say, ‘I’m strong.’”
“You go with God, girl. And don’t let Rocky down.”
“I won’t.”
I flipped my phone shut and took a deep breath.
Man up, girl. Or lose your friend.
I got into my Love Bug praying, I am strong, I am strong, I am strong, I am strong, I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.
All the way to the hospital.
chapter twenty-two
I WALKED INTO THAT HOSPITAL, my entire being aware of every step I took. This wasn’t Niagara Falls. This evil that had visited my friend was far more insidious. Step by step. Inch by inch I moved closer to an edge I didn’t think I could keep from falling off. And Rocky! My poor sweet Rock couldn’t die. How would I ever laugh again without seeing that goofy grin of his? Those eyes.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Please, God. Whatever it is, let us find a way to help him in time. Please, please, please, God.
God’s sweet Spirit spoke to me. Softly. If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.
God, I prayed, It’s been a long time since I believed anything with my whole heart, but I am giving you every little bit of faith I have right now. I believe you can help my friend. I believe. Please, God, help him. Don’t let him die. He’s twenty-eight years old. Don’t let her get away with this.
Peace washed over me like rainwater on the desert. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, but God heard me. His peace comforted me. Whatever would happen, God would fix it. He already had.
Rocky wasn’t in the Dream.
That’s right! Hope fluttered about my belly. It was Jazz who was in mortal danger in my Dream, and my babies.
The realization hit me with sickening force. I started praying again.
Hard.
chapter twenty-three
All things are possible to him that believeth.
Go inside, Bell. You may not be able to let Grandma Bell
be in charge of your life, but you sure can borrow her great faith.
I stepped inside the hospital room and found Elisa standing over Rocky, still crying. I felt like I had stepped into a dream, oddly detached. Like at any moment I’d float right out of my body and hover around the ceiling. I didn’t want to take in what I saw. Rocky, paler than I’d ever seen him. Ghostly next to white sheets. Tubes snaking in and out of his body. Struggling to breathe. Raspy, labored breaths forced out of his lungs.
I felt my own breath coming out with similar difficulty. Elisa grabbed me in a fierce hug. But I didn’t have time for her.
“I need to be alone with him,” I said.
She must have known I meant business because she fled the room like I’d threatened her.
I walked up to my frail friend. I’d had never seen him this sick. Rocky had to be one of the healthiest people I knew. His happiness and faith kept his body strong. And this sociopath wanted to snuff him out.
Oh no. Not on my watch.
I leaned over the bed. Touched Rocky’s face. “Rock,” I whispered.
He could barely open his eyes, but he tried at my voice. Tears streamed down my cheeks. He couldn’t say anything. His puppy eyes shut again.
“You do one thing for me, babe,” I said. He loved it when I called him babe, God help me. “You stay alive,” I whispered. “I know you want to see Jesus face-to-face, but you can do that when you’re an old, old man. And I know you want to be loved, just like me. I never knew you hurt so badly, Rocky. I thought your love tank was full to overflowing. If I wasn’t so self-absorbed, maybe I would have seen how love-starved you were, but now I know. So, you can’t die, because there is too much love left for you to get, including from me, my friend. Maybe especially from me.”
I began to sob. “Forgive me my debts, Rocky, and I owe you a lot. But I’m going to make it up to you if you stay here. Trust me. Okay, babe?”
And, God bless him, he nodded, just a tiny little nod, before he went back to sleep.
I kissed my pal on his ashen forehead and got the heck out of there. I needed to find out a little more about Toni Thunder’s sickness.
All things are possible to him that believeth.
I needed the reminder. As I walked out of the hospital, a sharp pain seized me.
Not again!
I hoped it wouldn’t get as bad as the horrible/precious day when Jazz had to carry me to Dr. McLogan’s and I found out about my babies.
My babies!
My Dream!
Oh God.
chapter twenty-four
BEFORE I LEFT THE HOSPITAL, I wrenched out of Elisa the whereabouts of the Thunders. She’d frozen in fear and didn’t know what to do or whom to trust. I finally broke her down and found out they were keeping a prayer vigil for Rocky at the Rock House. I needed to see them. I needed to end this reign of terror.
I drove back to Ann Arbor as increasingly painful spasms threatened to take me out. The Jesus Prayer, simple and manageable, rode shotgun with me. I had no idea what I was doing. I was relying on mercy, and mercy held me up.
Still, the monkey chatter in my brain continued unabated. All the way to the house my thoughts buffeted me.
What kind of circumstances created a woman who could kill again and again, especially victims as powerless as babies, toddlers, uncommonly kind middle-aged women, and blond boy toys—holy and stuff. If those were her only victims. I knew all the clinicianspeak to explain someone like Nikki Thunder. I even knew the copspeak. But my soul grieved within me. How must a loving, good God feel in the face of such evil?
After spending time with Ezekiel and Joy, I had no reason to suspect they had anything to do with Zeekie’s death. I hadn’t gotten to spend time with Zekia and Zeke, as I’d wished, but I felt certain they either knew what happened to their little brother or they knew Nikki and Sister Lou knew.
What happened, God? Give me wisdom.
Nikki had to have coerced them into doggedly clinging to her fabrication. How did she do it? They seemed too sweet to take a bribe from her. What did she threaten them with?
I thought about those children. They must have been wee ones at ten and seven or so when their mother died, with little Miss Psychopathica right in the thick of things. Would she be crazy enough to have told them that she’d been the one who caused their mother’s death? If she had, she might have told them that if they didn’t keep quiet about what really happened in the bath, she’d hurt their father, too—and get away with it. A psychopath would do just about anything for self-preservation. But that seemed like too bold a move, even for her. Wisdom, God. Give me insight into this.
Maybe she told little Zeke she’d seen him drown his brother. That he’d go into a juvenile detention facility. She could have done the same to Zekia. They were just kids. They wouldn’t know how to defend themselves against her.
God, I could speculate all day.
I had to get those kids to trust me enough to divulge information that could steer me in the right direction. And Nikki had probably joined herself to their little hips at this point. How could I get them to talk if she was in the house, hovering over like a green sky preceding destruction?
That still, small voice said something to me.
Go to Lou.
I didn’t have any time to argue with God. The hospital was five minutes from the Rock House. I made a detour and hightailed it back to the U.
Lord, I need an ally right about now. I need Lou or the kids or someone to give me some evidence strong enough to take down Nikki or at least tie her up long enough for us to gather more evidence to nail her. Make me a girl Columbo for real. I know he is only a TV character. I’m just asking that you make me as wily and wise as he is.
Jazz’s blood pressure would spike and he’d keel over from a stroke if he knew I’d prayed to be like Columbo.
I parked the car. Noted my space number on my parking ticket and took the elevator to the Taubman Center. In the elevator I nearly doubled over in pain.
God, help me.
From there I weaved my way to the floor where psychiatric patients are cared for. Take it easy, girl. Try to hold on to these babies as best you can.
I got to the locked doors on the psych floor, said who I was and who I’d come to see. You can’t just go to the front desk at a hospital and ask for Louella Dickson. A psychiatric patient’s name wouldn’t be released to visitors—a privacy perk. If you knew she was there, however, and came to this door, you’d get access. Besides, most of the staff knew Eric Fox and me. I’d have little trouble getting to her.
Someone buzzed me in, and the bored-looking nurse at the nurse’s station told me recreation time would begin shortly. She told me what Lou’s room number was, although she acted as if the effort to find the number caused her pain. I found the room with no problem. Louella sat on the bed, wearing regular clothing and no Chantilly oh-the-toilet. I thanked God I was able to see her. It always amazed me that some people have to get psychiatric health care without any support whatsoever.
I stood leaning against the doorjamb. “Hello, Sister Lou.”
She startled, and scurried against the headboard like I’d come to harm her.
“May I come in?”
She didn’t say anything.
I eased into the room and sat in an awful pea green chair. “How are you today?”
After a long pause she answered. “Blessed.”
“That’s good.”
“Are you looking forward to going home soon?”
Her eyes darted around the room like I’d brought a lairful of demons with me that she’d have to cast out. She nodded her head.
“I’m not going to take up too much of your time, Lou. I was concerned about you. This is the first time I’ve been able to come see you since I brought you here, remember?”
Her eyes softened. Her gaze rested on me a few more seconds before she looked away again.
God knows, I didn’t want to upset her. I silently prayed for wisdom and waite
d. Lou surprised me with a question. “He ain’t raise Zeekie from the dead. Why ain’t he raise him?”
“Maybe it wasn’t God’s will, Louella.”
“I had done fasted and prayed. We anointed that child and baptized him.”
We? Baptized him? When did this happen? Pentecostals don’t baptize toddlers.
Lou rattled on. “Some don’t go out but by prayer and fasting. You gots to get them demons or they take you over. Like you—you got a nicotine demon, gal.”
“I think you have me mistaken for my sister. I don’t smoke.”
Lou pointed her gnarled finger at me. “You gots a spirit of nicotine that wanna keep yo’ temple of the Holy Spirit corrupted.” She started speaking Klingon again, but she didn’t come near me. Just kept speaking in tongues until she finally said, “Demons everywhere. All in the house. All in the children. Zeke shoulda raised the baby up. He was ’spose to raise him from the dead. She told me he would.”
“Who told you that, Sister Lou?”
She rocked, banging her back against the wall. “Demons all in the house. All the people round here got demons. The woman of God got to cast them out. The prophetess gots to discern them foul demons, then they gots to be cast out. Ezekiel knows he should have raised that child from the dead.”
Are the woman of God and the prophetess two different people?
“Did Nikki tell you that Ezekiel would raise Zeekie from the dead? Did you try to cast the demons out of Zeekie, Lou?”
“All them children got demons. You got a nicotine demon, gal.” She went on and on with her circular reasoning, never answering my question, and finally retreating back to speaking in tongues. I let her go on about ten minutes until the twins compelled me to take a trip to the bathroom.
I figured Lou had answered the questions she wanted to, so it was time to go. Even though she was ill, she’d had enough lucidity to communicate something. Before I left, I asked nurse Chronic Fatigue to have Lou’s doctor look in on her.
She’d likely be released on medication, with instructions for her family to follow up with their own doctor at home.
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