He bowed his head slightly to her and then extended the receiver in her direction. “I do not understand this strange invention,” he said in a British accent. He opened his fist, revealing a cell phone. “Nor this. Are you... Stella? Your likeness and name have been flashing on this peculiar torch. Arnie needs medical aid.”
Stella’s shock disappeared, and she rushed toward the man. “What do you mean, Arnie needs medical aid? Where is he?” Stella recognized Arnie’s cell phone in the man’s hand. “Did you steal that?”
The man looked offended and gazed at her with disdain. “I beg your pardon? I have no need to steal. My wealth is quite well known.”
Stella waved her hands in the air. “Never mind. Where’s Arnie?”
The man pointed toward the open vault door. “He needs a doctor—”
Stella ran for the archives, shouting for Arnie as she hurried down the stairs. She found him at the far end of the archives surrounded by three people who also wore costumes.
Arnie was flat on his back with his face contorted in pain. Stella grabbed her phone and dialed 911, then dropped to her knees between two people she’d never seen before—a man and a woman, both dressed in period costumes. Stella grabbed Arnie’s hand, which was sweaty and trembling. The two people beside her stood and backed away, moving near the study table.
The 911 operator answered and immediately asked questions. Stella answered the first few quickly, but the question “What is happening?” wasn’t easy to answer. Sweat soaked through Arnie’s dress shirt, and his breaths came in short bursts.
“Arnie, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” Stella begged.
The operator continued to engage Stella in conversation, and when Arnie opened his eyes, Stella said, “He’s conscious!”
He squeezed her hand. “Kiddo? Where did you come from?” His left arm jerked, and the man dressed as a soldier and kneeling across from Stella grabbed it and pressed it back to the floor. Arnie’s eyes rolled back in his head.
“Could be a heart attack,” the soldier said. “We sent Darcy up to call for help.”
“Ma’am, is Arnie having a heart attack?” the operator asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Please just send someone to the library! I’ll be here.” Intense fear gripped her like talons. “Arnie, what is going on? Arnie, look at me.Please.”
He shuddered, but his eyes opened. “Kiddo,” he breathed out. Then his eyes closed, and his head lolled to the side.
“Arnie!” Stella shouted. “Don’t you dare die on me!”
The soldier touched his fingers to Arnie’s neck. “There’s a pulse.”
Stella’s entire body trembled. She held Arnie’s hand and told him over and over again that he was going to be okay, that everything was going to be fine. Gray, cloudlike words drifted around Arnie’s head—Final. Stop. Let go.—and Stella continuously waved them away because they terrified her.
When the paramedics arrived, Stella experienced a modicum of relief, although seeing Arnie on a stretcher challenged her strength to hold it together. She stood off to the side and chewed on her thumbnail. They’d given him an aspirin and put a small tablet beneath his tongue. One of the paramedics—whom Stella recognized as Niall Wiley—strapped a blood pressure cuff onto Arnie’s arm and listened to his heartbeat with a stethoscope, while his partner started an IV line in Arnie’s other arm. Niall put an oxygen mask over Arnie’s nose and mouth.
“Stella?” Niall called and motioned for her.
She hurried toward the stretcher, pressing her hands against the starched, disposable sheet pulled tight across the thin cushion. Arnie’s gaze focused on her, and he opened one of his hands. Stella slipped her hand into his.
“Arnie,” she said, feeling the sting of tears.
“Take care of them,” he said.
Stella wrinkled her brow. “What?”
“My friends... They’re not from around here... Keep them in here, okay? In the library. Take care of them. Come see me tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything. It’s temporary. Jack—I wanted to tell you about him.”
Stella shook her head, not understanding in the least. “Who’s Jack? What do you mean?”
Arnie’s eyes closed again, and he didn’t respond.
Stella looked up at Niall. “Is he drugged?”
Niall shook his head. “No, but it’s common for disorientation to occur. Terrible this happened during your party.”
“Party?” Stella asked.
