I nodded, letting her change the subject for a few minutes until she had to go meet her boyfriend downstairs.“It’s our anniversary,” she said with a small smile.“I’m hoping my present isn’t baby stuff.I’m gonna be so pissed if it’s more onesies.”
I chuckled softly, closing my eyes as she shut the door behind her.I wasn’t sure how long I drifted, just long enough for them to bring a dinner tray with gelatin, juice, and black coffee—pre-surgery meals are the worst—and leave me with the news playing overhead on the telly.People came and went a few more times, checking my vitals, taking the tray away untouched.
I drowsed.
The chime sounded to signal the end of visiting hours without a return of Ben or Heath.
Around ten, another nurse came in to introduce himself as the night shift, writing his name—Marco—on the whiteboard and adding a smiley face.“Oh, someone left you a message,” he said, smiling like the little drawing he left.“How sweet!”
I couldn’t read it as he bustled around me, sending me to the bathroom with orders to pee in a jug so they could measure it—ew—and asking if I needed help showering.
“I might’ve said yes last summer,” I joked, “but I’d better do it on my own now.”
He laughed.“No jealous boyfriends in this hospital, please.We’ve got enough going on!”
Finally, finally, after I’d carefully washed with the drying hospital soap, been cajoled into a cup of gelatin and a plastic bottle of apple juice, I was left alone and could read the whiteboard without someone chatting a mile a minute.
Damien—I’m sorry.Nate says good luck.
—P.S.
There was nothing after that and it took my foggy brain a minute to realize it was initials, not a postscript.“Shit!”
Marco was back in my room almost before I moved my finger off the call button.“Problem?”
“Did an older woman come to visit me?I dozed off earlier and,” I gestured to the board.“Someone left me a note.I’m just trying to figure out who.”
He shot me a bemused look.“You had a good deal of visitors, hon.The gals at the desk can’t stop talking about those two broody boys.Oh, Clary—he’s a doll.He was here just as I was coming on shift.That teenager and her mother?That a niece or something?”
“Uh, no.Kind of a friend, I suppose.”
“Hmm.The Moons.And your grandmother.”He winked, fussing with my blanket and adjusting my IV line so it didn’t pull on the cannula in my arm.
“My grandmother,” I repeated hollowly.
“Older lady, curly hair.Had your brother with her.”He fanned himself, shaking his head.“If I wasn’t married, I’d have definitely slipped him my number.Hey, I didn’t think you were from around here.Your granny lookssofamiliar, I swear I’ve seen her in town.”
All I could do was nod.“Yeah.You probably have...Um, do I need to dial nine or something to call out?I need to check in about my dog.”
Marco showed me how to use the room phone—dial nine, wait for the double tone, dial 9 again, then the area code, then the number, then pound and oh my god why is it so complicated—and left me alone finally.Again.
Heath answered the station phone on the third ring.
“Hey,” I said, cutting off his practiced, professional greeting.“Pamela Sommers was here.Within the past few hours.”
“I know,” he said on a sigh.“We’ve already got her in custody, waiting for a transfer to Portland.”
“What?How?”I struggled to sit up, ignoring the pangs in my arm and head.
“She turned herself in.Said she was tired of being afraid...”He trailed off.“Are you alright?”
Sinking back, I closed my eyes.“Not really.No.”
“Well, maybe this will perk you up. We might have a lead on your pap stalker.Marcy Simon—”
“She’s very observant.”
He snorted softly.“Well, she called in a concern about someone skulking around Witte House this morning.Albie brought in the guy before lunch.He’s not talking but his phone had pictures of you from around town.”
