by Karen Rose
From the locker room they went to the break room and the gym. “You can use any of the equipment as long as you’re off duty and none of the patients or their families ask to use it.”
The supply closet was very well stocked. “We have everything a hospital has and, in some cases, more,” Innes said. “Your patient will be undergoing chemotherapy next week. You’ll be transporting her to and from treatments. Your supervising nurse will show you where.”
“Miss Sinclair mentioned that the child is terminal when I had my interview. Is this correct?”
Innes frowned. “Did she explicitly say that?”
Liza had to think. “No. She asked if I could deal if the child was terminal. I assumed.”
“That’s good,” Innes said, clearly relieved. “Brooklyn is not terminal, but her leukemia is advanced. She’s responding well to treatments, so we continue to hope.”
“That’s good,” Liza said, relieved for the child’s sake.
“You don’t speak to her about her mother or their home,” Innes said. They’d turned a corner and were approaching a set of double doors over which was a sign that read PEDIATRICS. “Don’t ask her questions about anything personal. Her mother has privacy concerns. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Liza said. “I understand.”
“See that you do. Her mother’s travel schedule is busy. She isn’t here often and Brooklyn gets lonely. Please accommodate her play requests whenever she makes them. Your supervisor is Nurse Williams. Come. I’ll introduce you.”
Liza entered the pediatrics ward, immediately charmed with the colors. Most of the rooms were empty, but all were very nice. This was not a normal hospital. Every room was a suite. Nurse Innes stopped at the third room from the end.
An older woman sat in a reclining chair, a book in her hand. She stood as soon as Liza and Nurse Innes entered.
“Good morning! You must be the new nursing assistant. I’m Nurse Williams.”
“My name is Liza.” She turned her gaze to the bed, where a tiny little girl sat up, a tray of oatmeal in front of her. The child was bald and did not smile. Until she saw Liza’s glasses.
“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “I like your glasses. I’m Brooklyn. Hi, Liza.”
Liza looked to Nurse Williams. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to the chair next to the bed.
“Of course.”
Liza sat next to the little girl and stuck out her hand. “It is very nice to meet you, Brooklyn.”
Brooklyn smiled, showing a missing front tooth. Liza’s heart cracked. She didn’t bother telling herself not to get attached, because of course she would. She was already on her way.
“I hear you have treatments starting up soon, so let’s get some play in beforehand. What would you like to do? We can read, play a game, watch a movie, whatever you’d like.”
Brooklyn’s eyes widened in surprise that Liza had been so up front about her treatments. Then the little girl’s smile grew. “You’ll play with me? And read to me?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can you do voices?”
“You mean when I read to you?” Liza asked. “I’ll do my best.”
“Then I want you to read to me first. I have a Harry Potter book. And then we’ll play with my dolls. And then Play-Doh. And . . .” She gasped. “Did you BeDazzle your glasses?”
Liza chuckled. “No. But if there’s a BeDazzle kit anywhere in this hospital, we can BeDazzle some of your stuff and make you the sparkliest girl here.” She looked over her shoulder to Nurse Innes. “Do we? Have a BeDazzle kit, I mean.”
Nurse Innes smiled. “I’ll send someone out for one.”
“Yay!” Brooklyn cried, clapping her hands.
Yay indeed, Liza thought. If I’m only here for a short time, I’m going to make sure I use it to help this little girl have some fun. “I’ll have to do chores in between play, like changing your bedding and stuff like that. But let’s start this morning right. Where is your book?”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 9:30 A.M.
“She’s good with the kid,” the surveillance tech said with a sad smile.
“She is,” Tom agreed.
It was hotter than hell in the van, but he didn’t want to be anywhere else. Watching Liza make a seriously sick kid smile was a beautiful thing. She’d read several chapters from the first Harry Potter book, doing “all the voices,” and little Brooklyn had been delighted.
Then they’d taken a break to take the child’s vitals and change her bedding. Now they were looking at photos of the stars and planets on the child’s tablet.
Tom and the surveillance techs hadn’t seen much of the inside of Sunnyside Oaks yet. They’d taken the tour along with Liza and Nurse Innes, who, according to what Irina had told Liza, was someone to watch.
After the tour, Liza had stayed in the child’s room except for the few minutes she’d taken to deliver the soiled bedding to the facility’s laundry. She’d walked slowly on the way back, making sure the cameras in her glasses and the pendant caught every nook and cranny.
He’d hacked the facility’s cameras that were connected to Wi-Fi, and that had made him feel a bit better about her being alone inside. He’d thought they might see armed guards everywhere, but they hadn’t. The only armed person seemed to be Saltrick, the security chief.
One was enough, though. Unfortunately, if there were cameras in the patient rooms, they were hardwired, because he hadn’t been able to hack those, so they hadn’t seen Pastor.
“Any luck on your phishing e-mails?” the tech asked.
“No. I’m worrying now that they’re going to compare notes and realize someone is trying to break in.” Because the Wi-Fi feed had shown the employees working on their computers, so it was likely that they’d seen his e-mails.
“We’ll keep watch, but if any of the recipients go to the security office, we won’t be able to see them.”
Either the chief of security’s office didn’t have a camera or it was hardwired. Tom figured it was the former.
The tech chuckled. “The head nurse just told Brooklyn that she’ll have her BeDazzling stuff in an hour.”
Tom returned his attention to the monitor linked to the feed from Liza’s pendant.
“Can we go to the sunny room to do our work?” Brooklyn asked.
“What’s the sunny room?” Liza asked.
“The solarium,” the nurse explained. “It’s a common area and there are tables there where patients do puzzles and paint. BeDazzling would be a great use of the solarium, Brooklyn. We’ll get a wheelchair for you.”
Because the child was too weak to walk on her own.
“But first, you need to take a short nap,” Liza told Brooklyn. “Those BeDazzler machines need some muscle, so you should rest.”
Tom wondered who Brooklyn’s mother was. Innes had only said that she traveled for business. She could be one of the legit clients. Tom hoped so.
He’d check the patient database, but he’d have to do so from his home system. The warrants only covered information specific to Pastor, so looking at Brooklyn’s records on FBI time would make the Bureau in violation, and he wasn’t going to do that.
The ringing of his work phone jerked his attention away from Brooklyn. It was Raeburn. He couldn’t know about Rafe, but Tom still feared he’d sound guilty when he answered his boss.
“Special Agent Hunter.”
“It’s Raeburn. We need you back at the field office, ASAP.”
Tom frowned. “Why? I thought I was assigned to surveillance today.”
“We picked up Daniel Park, Pastor’s banker. I want you and Croft in Interview with him. Now, Agent Hunter.”
Tom wanted to argue, because panic was spiraling in his gut. But Rafe was in the employee lot, ready to assist should Liza need it. So he drew a breath an
d said, “Yes, sir. On my way.”
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 11:30 A.M.
“Look, Liza, I did it! Isn’t it pretty?” Brooklyn beamed.
She’d used a lot of her energy to push down on the BeDazzler tool, forcing the shiny rhinestone gem into an extra hospital gown. Her face was flushed from the exertion, the edges of the scarf she wore to cover her baldness damp from her perspiration.
“So pretty!” Liza held the cotton gown up. “This is going to be the awesomest thing.”
They’d chosen a simple heart design. Brooklyn had wanted to do something elaborate, but Liza had convinced her that if they started small, they could be finished faster and she could wear the gown while she worked on the next project. In truth, Liza wasn’t sure how long she’d be here and she didn’t want to leave Brooklyn with nothing.
Still smiling, Brooklyn sagged into the wheelchair. “Can you do the next part? I’m tired.”
“I can indeed. You just rest and tell me what to do.”
Brooklyn grinned at that. “I’m the boss.”
“So what color do we use next, boss?”
“Red.”
Liza saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” She reached for the red gem but froze when she saw a man entering the solarium. Frail-looking and about seventy, he wore round-rimmed glasses and his face seemed familiar. And then she knew.
Oh my God. It was him. It was Pastor.
She’d seen the photo tacked to the bulletin board in Tom’s home office, the one taken of Pastor, his wife, and the twins shortly before he’d run to Eden thirty years ago. He was older now, of course, and looked terrible, his skin gray and his hair thinning, but it was him.
He was being pushed by one of the nurses, and following behind was a woman in her midfifties. Her hair was liberally streaked with gray and pulled off her head in a simple bun.
But it was the item she wore around her throat that had Liza’s attention. A locket on a thick, heavy chain. An Eden locket. The nurse pushed Pastor to one of the tables by the window and covered his lap with a blanket. He leaned his head back, as if enjoying the sun on his face.
Belatedly aware she’d been staring, Liza jerked her attention back to the pile of red gems. But her hands were shaking so hard that she couldn’t get the gem into the little plunger.
It was rage, she realized. Pure, unadulterated rage. She hadn’t felt this angry in so long.
Not since she’d pushed Fritz’s body off her own, grabbed her rifle, and started firing at the insurgents who’d attacked her unit. Who’d killed her friends.
Because that was what Pastor had done. He’d allowed people to be attacked and killed. She wanted to run over there. She wanted to break him. Hurt him. Kill him.
But she couldn’t, of course. So get it together, Liza.
Carefully placing the gem on the table, she flattened her palms on her thighs, the soft cotton of her scrubs absorbing some of the clamminess. She drew a breath, remembering the relaxation techniques she’d learned to battle the anxiety of waking from a nightmare.
“Liza?” Brooklyn’s voice had grown small and a little scared. “Are you all right?”
Her brain raced to think of something comforting to say, because the truth was not an option.
She lifted her head to smile at the little girl. “I’m okay. You ever have a nightmare, and then the next day you remember part of it and just, like, get a little scared again?”
Brooklyn nodded sagely. “Sometimes I dream that I die.”
Liza sucked in a harsh breath. “Oh, honey. What an awful dream to have.”
Brooklyn lifted a shoulder. “I know. I wake up and I’m afraid. The last nursing assistant wasn’t very nice. She’d tell me to go back to sleep, even when I was crying.”
Liza reached out, palm up. Brooklyn took her hand and squeezed. “I told my mom when she visited, and Mom told Nurse Williams to get another assistant. That’s you.”
“Well, I have nightmares, too. And they’re scary, so I get it.”
“Do you die?”
“No, but people I love get hurt, and that’s scary, right?”
“Real scary. You don’t have a mom to tell you that it’s okay, because you’re old.”
Liza thought about her last nightmare and how Tom had run to her, holding her while she cried. Then Brooklyn’s words sank in and her lips twitched. “I guess I am pretty old at that. But I learned some stuff that helps when I wake up scared. You want to know?”
Brooklyn sat up straighter. “Yes. Please.”
“First is breathing.” She demonstrated and within a minute, Brooklyn was mimicking the inhale-hold-exhale pattern. “Also, I cuddle my dog.”
“You have a dog?”
“I do. She’s big. Great Dane big.”
Brooklyn’s eyes widened. “She’d eat me.”
“Nah, she’s a softy. She might lick your face.”
The child giggled. “That’s dirty.”
“True, but it does help to hug her. You can’t have a dog here, but maybe a stuffed animal. Do you have one?”
“Not here. I had one at home, but I forgot it. Mom said she’d bring it to me, but she’s working right now.”
“Would you like me to ask Nurse Williams if I can get you one for now, until your mom brings yours?”
“Would you?”
“I would and I will. Now, the other thing you can do about bad dreams is to rewrite the ending. If I dream that my friends get hurt, then after I wake up, I close my eyes and picture them at a party instead, all healthy and happy. Just like the hurt never happened.”
“So I could picture myself not dying? And doing a dance?”
“Exactly.” Which wouldn’t change Brooklyn’s actual prognosis, but it might ease her fears along the way. “And then, the next day, you can wear this fashion statement.” She held up the hospital gown again. “It says you are bada—” She clamped her lips shut and Brooklyn laughed. Such a lovely sound.
The little girl leaned forward and whispered, “Badass?”
Liza chuckled. “I need to watch my language. Let’s get back to BeDazzling.”
“That was very nice advice,” a male voice said and Liza froze again. Pastor was two feet away, having been pushed to their table by his nurse. “May we join you?”
“Of course,” Brooklyn chirped before Liza could speak. “I’m Brooklyn. You must be new.”
She’s done this before, Liza realized with a start. She’s been here for so long that she’s accustomed to welcoming new patients.
“I am,” Pastor said, as the woman with the locket sat in a chair beside him. The nurse stepped back, watching with an eagle eye. “I just got here.” He made a face. “I fell down. Broke some stuff. Hard when you’re old like me. My name is Ben.”
Liza noted the sudden tension in his companion’s body.
He looked a little confused at the woman’s reaction, then smiled. “People call me Pastor.”
His companion swallowed. “It’s a nickname,” she said quietly.
Brooklyn just rolled with it. “Okay. We’re BeDazzling. Wanna play with us?”
“Can I just watch?” he asked. “I like your scarf.”
Brooklyn patted her head. “My mom brought it for me. It’s from Switzerland.” She turned to Liza. “Did you ever go to Switzerland?”
“Nope,” Liza said. “I did go to Afghanistan, though. I saw some very pretty scarves there. They’re called hijabs.”
“I didn’t catch your name,” Pastor said, his eyes having flickered at hijab.
Liza had wondered if he would react. Amos had told them that Pastor was rabidly Islamophobic. “I’m Liza, Brooklyn’s nursing assistant.” Nervous and terrified that she’d show it, she busied her hands applying the next red gem.
“This is Sister Coleen,” Pastor said. �
�She’s kind of like a nursing assistant, too.”
A puzzle piece dropped into place. This is the healer. The one with the computer.
Brooklyn’s little forehead was furrowed. “Are you a nun? I knew a nun once. People called her Sister, too.”
“Something like that,” Coleen said. “Were you in the military, Liza? You said you were in Afghanistan.”
“I was,” Liza said. “But I probably shouldn’t speak of it. Little pitchers, you know.”
Coleen nodded. “I know. It’s just that I’ve been . . . a little detached for the past few years. I’ve been catching up on news.”
Liza supposed so, if a few years meant thirty.
“I watch the news,” Brooklyn said. “On my tablet. Nurse Williams doesn’t know.” She lifted her brows, which looked a bit strange because she had no eyebrows. “Are you going to narc on me, Liza?”
Liza choked on a laugh. “Narc on you? Where on earth—” She cut herself off because she wasn’t supposed to ask questions about Brooklyn’s personal life. “I think I’ll definitely be checking your tablet to see what you’re reading. There are news outlets for kids. Otherwise you might see stuff that’ll give you different nightmares.”
Brooklyn had started to look defiant, but she nodded, her ire cooling. “That makes sense. But I’m not a baby, you know.”
“No, you’re not,” Liza said.
“How old are you?” Pastor asked Brooklyn.
“Seven. Almost.”
And then, as Liza worked the BeDazzler tool on the cotton gown, Brooklyn and Pastor proceeded to chat. It was the most surreal conversation Liza had ever heard.
The man was . . . sweet. There was no other word for it. He asked Brooklyn about her hobbies and the books she liked to read. He asked her about her schooling, nodding in approval when she said she was homeschooled.
And then he talked about his own children. Bo and Bernie. How he missed them. How they were angels in heaven now.
And Brooklyn comforted him, patting his gnarled hand with her small, bony one.