Some Other Child

by Buchbinder, Sharon

  Sarah stared at the phone in disbelief. Shouldn’t the codeine have worn off by now? Was she ‘under the influence’? A rush of heat ran up her neck and face. “I’m an idiot!”

  Cell phone still in hand, she found her slippers and robe, tucked the phone in her robe pocket, and headed to the kitchen. Winston followed on her heels. She let him out, turned on the coffee pot and the TV.

  “And I say unto you, Harry Potter is the Devil’s tool to seduce our children to witchcraft,” Reverend Bobby Moore ranted. “End Days are coming, I say unto you. Witchcraft is the harbinger of End Days. Read the Book of Revelations.”

  Sarah wanted to throw the remote at the screen, but instead changed the station to a nice soothing infomercial for self-cleaning mops. The next time she glanced at the clock, it was a few minutes after six in the morning. She must have dozed off. Something teased at the edge of her mind and haunted her, like the familiar scent of a perfume.

  Winston jumped up, ran to the door, and began to bark.

  “Jeez, you must have teeny-weenie bladder syndrome.” She threw open the back door. “Go and get me a clue!”

  He flew out the door, barking.

  She paused for a moment and raced after him, her bathrobe flapping in the cool early morning air. Winston ran along the edge of his invisible fence and barked. She arrived at the top of her driveway just in time to see a white van circle the cul-de-sac. She ran down the pine-tree-lined driveway, trying to catch sight of the license plate in the pre-dawn light. The Maryland truck plate began with the letter “M” and the numbers one and three. The rest of the numbers or letters were covered in dirt or mud.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  The van stopped, reversed, circled the cul-de-sac and came back toward her.

  She froze in place. The van was so close, she could see the face of the driver, a shaggy haired man with an expression of hatred. A pine tree stood between her and the curb.

  She leaped behind the tree, fell onto the ground, and rolled into Aunt Ida’s yard. When she came to a stop, she fumbled for her cell phone and punched 9-1-1.

  “Help me! Please! He’s going to kill me! Help! Help!”

  She heard a crash of metal and saw the sentry pine tree shudder and sway above her.

  She clutched the cell phone to her ear, closed her eyes, screamed, and prepared to die. The sound of the engine receded. She opened her eyes, stared at the tops of the pine trees in the early morning sky, and heard a voice.

  “If you are satisfied with your message, press one. If you wish to re-record your message, press two.”

  She had called her voicemail.

  * * * *

  “Okay,” Officer Mike said. “Let’s go through this again.”

  “How many times do you need to hear this? A creepy guy with dark, straggly hair driving a white van, attempted to run me over this morning. You have physical evidence. The pine tree at the end of my driveway has a big gash in it. There are chunks of glass from a headlight all around it, and, I’m betting it’s the same headlight that did this to me.”

  She pulled up her sweatshirt and turned around so Officer Corrigan and his tired-looking partner, Officer Pollack, could see it.

  “You can cover that up,” Officer Mike said.

  “I’m a victim. What are you going to do about this?”

  “We’ll take your statement and run the partial license plate number you gave us through the system, looking through the thousands of white vans in Maryland. The partial license plate and broken headlight will help narrow it down, unless he gets the headlight repaired today.”

  “What about the driver? Don’t you have mug shots I can look through? How about a police sketch artist? I can give a good description of the guy.”

  Officer Pollack rolled his eyes. “Watch a lot of cop shows, do you?”

  “Not lately. I’ve been watching my mother in a coma in an ICU. Right now, I want this man arrested. I’m afraid for my life.”

  Officer Pollack said, “I understand you called 9-1-1 last night, stating you knew Ida Mae Katz was kidnapped. The dispatcher said you might have been under the influence of drugs at the time. Have you taken any drugs today, Ms. Wright?”

  “It’s Doctor Wright, to you, Officer Pollack. For your information, in case Officer Corrigan has not filled you in, I was hit by a van yesterday. More likely than not, it is the same white van that attempted to run me down today.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “I took one Tylenol with codeine at eleven last evening. I’ve had nothing but coffee since then. That is a real tree with real damage. That is real glass on the ground. This is a real cervical collar. These are real bruises and scratches on my body.”

  The police officers exchanged glances.

  “Doctor Wright, do you have evidence that makes you believe Ida Mae Katz was kidnapped? Have you been in her house and seen things that look out of place?” Officer Mike asked. “I want to work with you here, but I have to have concrete evidence before I can take this any further. Otherwise, I’ll look like an idiot.”

  “I haven’t been in her house since she left town. Maybe we should start there. Want to go with me? I have her house keys. Aunt Ida left a bottle of GHB for Detective Engelman. Can you take that to him for me?”

  “Sure, we can do that. Let me call this other information into the precinct so they can get started on looking for that van,” Officer Mike said. “And, by the way, we do use mug shots. They’re in digital databases now, like fingerprints, however, not one hundred percent reliable. If the guy’s never been arrested, he won’t show up. That’s when we use a sketch artist.”

  “Just say when and I’ll be there to describe the creep.”

  “This isn’t a search,” Officer Pollack said. “We’re just going with you to reassure you that everything’s okay.”

  She retrieved Aunt Ida’s house keys, and left Winston outside in his electric fenced-in space. She called to the police officers and told them she’d meet them at Aunt Ida’s back door. Sarah walked around the fence past the now covered swimming pool, the hot tub, and the fishpond.

  “Welcome to the home of Ida Mae Katz.”

  She opened the kitchen door and was overcome by the smell of bleach. A coughing fit seized her.

  “Phew,” said Officer Mike. “Let’s get some windows open!”

  Fresh air blew in. Sarah took a deep breath and sighed in relief.

  “Why would it smell so strongly of bleach in here?” Officer Pollack asked Sarah.

  “I don’t know. Her cleaning lady only comes in on Saturdays. It’s been days since she was here.”

  The granite counter was empty, as were the center island and cook top. Everything gleamed in the sunlight.

  “The smell should have dissipated by now,” Officer Mike said. “Other than the bleach, is anything out of place in this room?”

  “No, it looks spotless.”

  She looked around.

  “Where’s that bottle of GHB for Detective Engelman?” She frowned and searched the counter, floor, and drawers. “It was here when she left.”

  They moved on to the dining room, the den, the bedrooms, and the basement. Everything was in its place.

  “There is one other area,” Sarah said.

  “Where’s that?” Officer Pollack asked.

  “The garage. We walked past it to get into the house.”

  It reeked of bleach, too.

  Officer Pollack raised the garage door to let in a blast of fresh air.

  “Weird, don’t you think?” Sarah struggled to catch her breath. “I’ve been in here occasionally to put things away for Aunt Ida, but never smelled bleach before.”

  “Tell us about the cleaning lady,” Officer Mike said.

  “Her name is Betty. I don’t know her last name.” Sarah said. “She’s been working for Aunt Ida for a little over a year. She came from a vocational training organization called WorkForce. Betty’s extremely hard of hearing and wears hearing aids in both ears. She also has a mild intellectu
al disability.”

  “Isn’t it possible she got the days she was supposed to clean mixed up?” Officer Pollack asked. “Came the wrong day, got carried away, used too much bleach?”

  “I guess so. That would be a logical explanation for the bleach fumes in the kitchen. But the garage?” Sarah shook her head.

  “Hey, who knows what she was thinking. Maybe she thought Ms. Katz wanted her to clean everything, including the garage.” Office Pollack said.

  “So, now what?”

  “Now you lock it up, and we leave,” Officer Pollack said.

  Officer Mike stared at the workbench and pegboard. Every tool was in its place on the pegboard above the wooden counter, and each spot was labeled with what tool went where. Shelves were neatly stacked with boxes, which were also clearly labeled “Nice tools,” he said. “I have a workshop, but it’s never been this neat. Okay, we need to get going.”

  “And I do what?”

  “You go about your business.” Officer Mike responded. “If you see a white van without a headlight, or you see that man, do not attempt to take him on. If he comes after you again, call 9-1-1 and tell them you are in danger of imminent harm.”

  * * * *

  Sarah returned to her kitchen and called the office.

  “General Pediatrics. How may I help you?”

  “Jazmin, this is Sarah.” She filled her in on the latest events. “After all this, I’ve decided to follow Dr. Kirby’s orders and stay home today. How’s Arlene’s mother?”

  “The Lord took her home.”

  “I’m so sorry. When’s the funeral?” Tears of sympathy filled Sarah’s eyes, blurring her vision. Her mother could be next.

  “Tomorrow, at ten in the morning, right down the street here at the Jerusalem A.B.E. Pastor James Black is officiating.”

  “I’ll be there. Arlene needs everyone at this difficult time. Thanks, Jazmin.” She ended the call and wondered if Peter would be there.

  Wait a minute. That’s the church in the study, she thought. Her cell phone began to ring and she almost dropped it from surprise.

  The social worker from GBMC identified herself. “A bed just opened up at Shady Rest. Have you been there?”

  “No, I’ve been busy.” An understatement.

  “You should visit it before you make your final decision. I’ll give the administrator a call to see if she’s available to meet with you.”

  Sarah moved as quickly as her injuries would allow. She had additional aches and pains from jumping between the trees and rolling on the ground. Fear for her life had turned her into an athlete. Maybe she’d soak in Aunt Ida’s hot tub. That would help her aching muscles. Later. No time to care of myself now, she thought. She dressed with care, pulling on her trusty black slacks and a fresh shirt.

  The social worker called back in twenty minutes. “The administrator said you can come any time. She’ll be there until five this evening. Her name is Ms. Evans.”

  Shady Rest stood on a side street in the middle of Pikesville, behind a popular restaurant. Sarah found a parking space in front of the large, rambling brick building. An elderly black man sat in wheel chair by the automatic front doors. He greeted her as she entered. “Welcome to Shady Rest.”

  A blonde, overly made up, truly zaftig woman in a low cut, tight, gold sweater sat at the information desk directly behind the man in the wheelchair. Sarah could scarcely believe her eyes. She approached the desk with caution. “Aren’t you Rivah, the real estate agent?”

  “Oh, honey, I got a lot of jobs. Monday through Friday, nine to five, I’m a receptionist here at Shady Rest. Weekends and evenings, I’m a realtor. Anything to make ends meet.”

  “I can understand that.” Sarah thought about her own financial circumstances.

  Leaning forward, Rivah whispered to her like a conspirator.

  “My best leads come from this place. Once grandma comes in, the family can’t wait to unload the house. Even when I make the Million Dollar Club, I’m not giving up the day job.” She sat back and said in a normal voice, “So what can I do for you, Miss?”

  “I’m Sarah Wright. I’m looking for Ms. Evans. Is she around?”

  “She sure is. She told me you might be admitting your mother to Shady Rest. Hey, does your mother own her own home?”

  “Yes, but I happen to be living in it, so I won’t be ‘unloading’ it anytime soon.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, here’s my card.” Rivah picked up a telephone receiver, and tapped at the keypad with bright red bird-of-prey nails. Her voice came over the paging system.

  “Ms. Evans, you have a visitor at the front desk.”

  Sarah waited for Ms. Evans and watched the hallway. A few elderly people made their way up and down the halls with walkers and wheel chairs. Nurses, nurses’ aides, and orderlies strode back and forth on errands. The front doors whooshed open behind her.

  “Welcome to Shady Rest!”

  “Why thank you, Charles. It’s always good to see you, too,” said a familiar sounding older woman’s voice. “Hello, Rivah.”

  Sarah turned to see the latest arrival. Bernice Woods stood there, looking almost as surprised a Sarah felt.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Bernice,” Sarah said. “Do you remember me?”

  “Oh, my word, of course I do. How are you?”

  “No broken bones. Lots of bruises and something like whiplash in my neck. I’m lucky to be alive and grateful you came along.”

  “What brings you here?” Bernice asked.

  “My mother’s in a coma; they can’t keep her in the ICU any longer. I came to visit Shady Rest to see if it would be a good place for her. Are you happy with it?”

  “Oh, yes. The nursing care is excellent. There are lots of activities for residents. I was worried it would be depressing and smell like urine, but, it’s very bright and clean.”

  “Maybe we should put that on a brochure,” Rivah said and burst into giggles.

  Bernice managed a weak smile.

  “Rivah, isn’t there something you should be doing?” said a tall, elegant African American woman. Her hair was pulled up in a French twist and a large streak of gray entwined along the hairstyle in an artistic swirl. Her impeccably tailored navy blue suit was accented with a pearl necklace and earrings.

  “I think I have some filing.” Rivah put her head down and shuffled papers.

  “Then why don’t you get to work on that?”

  “Okey-dokey.”

  Ms. Evans turned towards Bernice and Sarah.

  “Ms. Woods, so good to see you again. I trust you’re well?” She extended her hand to Bernice.

  “Yes, thank you, very well.”

  “And you must be Dr. Wright.”

  Ms. Evans gave Sarah a firm handshake. Sarah felt as if she was meeting a socialite instead of a nursing home administrator. “That’s correct.”

  “Why don’t we take a little tour of the facility and then we can talk in my office. Is that okay with you?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Ms. Evans, could I interrupt you for a moment?” Bernice asked.

  “Yes, Ms. Woods, what can I do for you?” She turned and gave Bernice her full attention.

  “As you know, my sister-in-law’s roommate just passed away. Elizabeth would like to have someone to keep her company. Could Sarah’s mother be placed in her room?”

  Sarah was delighted for her own reasons, but a bit taken aback at Bernice’s directness.

  “I don’t know how much company my mother’s going to be. She’s in a coma.”

  “No, dear, I was thinking that on the days when I can’t get come, you’d probably be in to visit your mother. I was selfishly hoping that in bad weather, you might be willing to drive me here. Between my sister and my niece, it’s been difficult.”

  “Ms. Evans, if it turns out Shady Rest is a good fit for my mother, I think Bernice’s idea makes sense, but, I’d like to take the tour before I make any final decisions.”

 
; “Here at Shady Rest, we not only emphasize our quality of care, but our quality of caring,” Ms. Evans began as they strolled down the hall. “We provide around-the-clock nursing care to chronically ill and frail elderly patients as well as individuals recovering from illnesses and injuries. We have a state-of-the-art coma stimulation program few other facilities offer.”

  “Is it true the coma stimulation program isn’t covered by Medicare and Medicaid?”

  “Because it’s considered experimental, it is an out-of-pocket expense. I’ve seen some amazing outcomes.”

  “What exactly does it entail?” Sarah watched residents doing chair exercises in the activity room to the beat of a Broadway show tune.

  “Daily sessions are less than a half hour, and the environment is kept quiet during the treatment. Sensory stimuli are presented in a particular order and the patient is told what to expect. If your mother has a favorite song, poem, cologne or flavor, the therapist would include them.”

  Sarah wondered if they’d include scotch and whiskey flavors.

  “Staff and family are asked to speak to the patient whenever they come into the room. Hearing is the last sense to go. People have recalled conversations they heard while in a coma.”

  “Are pets allowed to visit?”

  “Pets-on-Wheels comes here at least once a week. Your pet would have to be certified as volunteer and go through physical and behavioral testing before he or she could come to visit. We can’t allow pets with unmanageable behavior to endanger our residents.”

  Winston would be staying home.

  After an hour and a complete tour of the facility, Sarah asked to see Mrs. Woods’ room. She waited in the hallway while Ms. Evans spoke with Bernice and Elizabeth Woods. Ms. Evans came out of the room and invited her in.

  A wizened old woman lay in one bed, her wispy white hair spread over a pillow. Her eyes were milky white, and her thin hands clutched at her blanket. She turned her head toward Sarah as she entered the room.