“Do you mind if we drive by the hospital?” I ask May-Bell as we leave the diner. I take the warm pies out of her hands.
“Not at all,” May-Bell says. She drops me off. I tell her I’ll be back up to their place to grab Titus as soon as I get my truck. She tells me there’s no rush. I know we’re welcome in their home for as long as I’d like.
I don’t even make it past the waiting room before Sarah calls out my name. I turn and she’s coming down the hall with a folded piece of paper in her hand.
“Hey.” She’s a little out of breath. “She’s gone. Left a few hours ago, but she left this for you.”
I’m processing as I take the note out her hand. Lightfoot and Tanner knew she was gone. They knew I was gonna beat feet over to see her. Giving me the green light even though they knew she was gone was their last fuck you. I blink and look up at Sarah. She’s looking at the note, then she looks up at me.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“I’m just wondering what it is about you, but at the same time, I know.”
“We can’t go back, Sarah. You said it yourself. You can’t change for me and I can’t change for you.” It’s heavy talk for a hospital waiting room, but I need my sanity back. All of it.
“I know we can’t, Shep. I’m just worried. As a friend.”
“I’m fine.”
She rolls her eyes, then practically slams her hands on her hips. “I know, Shep. You’re always fine, but I don’t think she is.”
“Say it. All of it.”
“I’m saying that just because you’re well enough to walk out of here doesn’t mean you’re well enough to just pick right up where you left off. I’m just saying that when a patient asks me several times for a pen and paper to write a note to the person who saved her life, and she’s in tears when she hands it to me thatshe is not fine.”
I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. I can’t sleep and no one tried to kill me. Claudia lost a lot that night. Peace of mind is only one of them.
“I don’t know what’s in the note. Like I said, I didn’t read it,” Sarah says.
“But?”
“If she wants you to write back, reply, she needs something.”
I nod. Again, there’s nothing to say.
“I’ll be around if you want to talk.”
“Thanks.”
Sarah touches my hand and then she turns and walks away. I take my time walking back to the station. I don’t want to read the note. Not yet. I find Sally behind the counter. She’s less spooked this time around. She has a smile for me and she has my keys.
My truck is behind the station and it’s all fucked up. Every inch is covered in finger print dust. The doors, the fender, all over the interior, all over the dash. I might as well burn the thing before I try to clean it. I climb behind the wheel and contemplate heading back to the market to find something to clean all this shit up, but I don’t want the attention driving my bright blue piece of evidence through the center of town. The cleaning supplies up at my place will have to do. I climb behind the wheel. I unfold the note.
Shep, Sorry for the chicken scratch. My hand is still screwed up. I just wanted to say thank you. I asked if you were coming back because I wanted to thank you again in person and I wanted to say goodbye in person too, but they were pretty insistent about us not seeing each other until they wrapped up the investigation. I doubt I’ll see you again. Clown or no clowns, I’m never leaving the comfort of the city again.
I thought losing my parents was the worst thing that could happen, but this was much worse. I wouldn’t even be here to write this note if it wasn’t for you. I’m going home. I’m going to pretend work is the perfect distraction until they release my brother’s body and let me lay him to rest.
I keep telling myself there are people to blame for this and I am not one of those people, but I think it might take the rest of my life for that to really sink in. I’ll save that for my grief counselor or therapist. Whoever you talk to after these things happen. I did think of another way this could have been worse. The scenario involves you not being home that night. And also, you could have missed twice. Anyway. Thank you, a hundred thousand times.
Love always, and I mean always. I’m naming a child or a really cute dog after you.
Claudia
P.S. Tanner and Lightfoot are dicks. I hope they didn’t give you too hard of a time.
Iscanthe piece of paper again. Read it three and four more times. Her number doesn’t magically appear. There isn’t an email address or a website. No breadcrumbs to her cottage in the woods. Or her loft in the city. Sarah is right about a lot of things when it comes to me, but she doesn’t know Claudia Cade. She is a fighter. She doesn’t need me at all. She will be just fine.
Four
