While Others Sleep. Helen Myers R.
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“Good girl. So watch it in the future, okay?” Leaving her to her injured pride or whatever, he resumed his race inside.
The waiting room and hallways of Emergency were flooded with people tonight, and it was only Tuesday. Most of the dazed souls he passed appeared to have been dragged out of bed. The rest looked in dire need of one.
Blade didn’t have to worry about getting by the reception desk. The clerk had all the work she could handle dealing with people looking for information about loved ones. He passed through another set of glass doors and strode by the nurses’ station, relying on what always worked for him—confidence. But his step faltered moments later.
The EMTs were already leaving the second triage unit. He didn’t like the look of it. When he saw their expressions, his first question was “Did she ever say anything?”
The older of the haggard-faced men glanced his way, but appeared intent on continuing past him. Blade took no offense. It had been a grueling forty-eight hours, and his usual five o’clock shadow was beyond disreputable. There wasn’t much he could do about genetics—in his work his swarthy coloring usually proved an asset—nor could he help his bad timing. He needed answers. Determined to get them, he quickly blocked the men’s path and stuck his ID in their faces.
The technician closest to him blinked a few times. “Ah. Okay…no. She never said a word. She was already flat-lining in transit. They were never able to bring her back.”
Blade made the badge disappear as quickly as he’d flashed it. “Thanks.”
“That it?” The technician looked unsure that the questions were over.
“Unless you know who killed her?”
“Somebody as lost as she was.”
He had that right. Blade wasn’t surprised at the guy’s reaction—people in emergency care tended to see the same view of the world that he did.
“If only we’d been able to get to her a few minutes sooner,” the man continued.
Blade frowned. “I thought the wound was such that she wouldn’t have pulled through?”
“But I think we might have briefly revived her. Maybe long enough to get some kind of statement. It’s not in the job description, but we know it’s part of what’s asked of us. Somebody took a helluva risk leaving her in that condition.”
The two men moved on, leaving Blade to consider that bit of speculation. It took the reproachful stares of passing hospital personnel to remind him that this was nowhere to do his thinking, and he followed the men out.
Beyond the Emergency doors, he was held up by a group who had just received similar news to his. He shut his mind to the sobs, his eyes to the anguish, and stepped around them. Directly ahead was Ms. Cody Security in intense dialogue with a nurse.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the harried nurse said. “Maybe they did just bring her in, but I don’t have paperwork on any shooting victim.”
The EMT who’d spoken to Blade paused on his way out and backtracked. “You know the kid who was shot?” he asked the security guard.
Bewilderment had her smoke-gray eyes appearing all the larger. Under different circumstances Blade would have been tempted, wanting to linger and find out her name. It was her fierce grip on her upper left arm that snapped him back to attention. Could he be responsible for that? Her jacket was flight-style like his, only canvas. It would have offered no protection whatsoever when she fell down.
“Kid…?” She shook her head in slow motion as though caught up in some dream. “No. The woman in the white Pontiac. A Grand Am. She’s seventy-nine. Five-two…though she insists it’s still five-three. She wears a platinum blond wig.”
“Right car, close hair, wrong driver,” the EMT said. “Our passenger was an eighteen-year-old girl.” He glanced at his partner. “What was the name Phil gave us?”
“Holms. Well…maybe.”
Blade watched the woman frown in confusion and barely heard her murmur, “I guess I made a mistake.”
The EMT shrugged. “Good luck.” He and his partner moved on.
The nurse looked ready to escape, too. Blade stepped closer and said to her, “Maybe you’d better get the lady some help. I think her arm—”
“It’s nothing,” the guard interjected, staring at something light years beyond his left shoulder. But when she did focus on him she physically recoiled, as though backing from the deepest of black holes, bringing her up hard against the admittance desk. “Son of a—” While she checked the curse in time, she directed all of her pain at Blade. “Will you please get lost? It was just a little lightning, okay?”
3
Maple Trails
5:45 a.m.
But nothing was okay, and as dawn approached, Campbell had new symptoms to apply to her definition of sick-of-mind and sick-at-heart. Being on the phone again with her father wasn’t doing much to help that.
“No, there’s still no word on Maida,” she told Yancy. “I’m ready to notify the sheriff.” Since they were located just beyond the city limits, the property fell under the jurisdiction of the Gregg County Sheriff’s Department rather than the Longview Police.
“Give her another hour,” Yancy replied. “I know you two have grown particularly close in the last year, but she still has a right to her privacy.”
Campbell switched from rubbing her arm to massaging the intensified throbbing building in the middle of her forehead. “I know, I know. You warned me of this very possibility, of not keeping some professional distance, and whether you believe it or not, I have. But you weren’t the one to witness what happened.”
“I wish it had been me there last night. Then you wouldn’t be hurting now.” Yancy sighed. “Look, you’ve been to the hospital and we’ve both listened to the police scanner throughout the night. There’s been nothing to indicate she’s had an accident, so why not give her family time to wake calmly. I’m still betting she’s over at their place, but even if she’s not, it’s not fair to upset them before we can say with certainty there’s a legitimate problem.”
He was as resistant to what she’d told him about Maida’s deteriorating relationship with her only son and his family as he was to the reason for the woman’s strange departure. Earlier, he’d suggested the sirens going off around town warning of a tornado in the area was what had scared Maida out of her home. That could be, but Campbell wasn’t convinced—and he’d pushed her close to the end of her patience. She wanted answers.
“If you knew a twister was headed here, wouldn’t you call me to make sure I was secure?” Yancy asked. “And wouldn’t you check with me directly afterward to see if I needed anything?”
“Stop with the fairy tales—we aren’t a good example for any of this. What’s more, Maida thinks her daughter-in-law Patsy is more attracted to Dwayne’s