The Clone's Mother (21 page)

“Never mind that. No use crying over spilled milk.”

“Or lost coffee?” she said.

“That’s right.” I hugged her, hoping her sparkle would return soon. “Or lost coffee.”

I left and took the bus (much more-economical) home. I lay down and stared at the ceiling until I had to get up and go back to work.

Chapter 33

Tangled in a sea of covers, I imitated a bass flipping around on a boat deck. My eyes burned like sizzling sand and my lids felt as thick as catfish lips. I wrenched myself out of bed. The clock had somehow already hit five, leaving time to scarf a bite, feed Ollie, call Mack and leave him a message, and visit Anna before my shift started.

I spent an hour or so at Anna’s bedside while Joe went to get the meal I’d finally convinced him to eat. When he got back, I reported to work and somehow managed to get through my shift without screwing up in any major way, in spite of my mind continually drifting back to Anna and Charlotte. I couldn’t keep my thoughts away from them, especially with the burn in my stomach continually reminding me how bad things were. Tums couldn’t fix this.

When I awoke Tuesday afternoon, stiff, achy, and exhausted, I remembered I was supposed to go back to the doctor for another blood draw. It hadn’t even crossed my mind with all the events of the previous four days. I tugged on some jeans and a sweatshirt and threw together a PBJ so I could get to the office before it closed. I called to check on the hours, and learned I was already too late. They were closing and I couldn’t make it in time.

But before I hung up, the office nurse told me to hold a minute and Dr. Chen came on the line.

“Kate, I thought you’d be in by now.”

“I’m trying. It’s been a rough few days.”

“Can you come in tomorrow? We can work you in and I’d like to see you too, not just have your blood drawn.”

“That should work. I’m working tonight. I’ll get off at seven-thirty.”

“How about four-thirty in the afternoon? You’ll have some time to sleep then.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

We hung up and the door buzzer rang.
Mack! Finally!
I needed to see him so badly. We kept missing each other. After the one time I’d gotten through to him from the hospital when Joe and I were waiting for Anna to come out of surgery, I kept getting his voicemail. He’d left a couple of short messages but said he wanted to see me in person and for me to call  him back ASAP. After so many misses, he probably figured the best way to talk was to come over when he knew I’d be home. We needed to discuss a lot of things, like the face-to-face apology he owed me and then reconciliation for the abandonment at the dinner dance. But all of that was eclipsed by what had happened to Anna and Charlotte. I just needed him to hold me for a bit, and we’d work out the details of apologies and making up afterwards.

“Hi,” I said through the intercom. I almost started crying.

“Miss Johnston?”

It wasn’t Mack.

“Yes?” I bucked up and made my voice as steady as possible. I’d deal with the disappointment that it wasn’t Mack later.

“Lieutenant Fosdick here. Can I come up for a few minutes?”

My stomach monkeys jumped. Guess he needed to ask a few more questions about Anna. He’d been in to see Joe a couple of times at the hospital while I was there, but I didn’t really have anything to tell him. I hadn’t been at the scene of the crime. This time.

“Come on in.” I pushed the buzzer.

After he came up, I offered him a Coke.

“No. Thanks though. This shouldn’t take long.” He didn’t want to sit either. He just stood backed up to my door, his feet far apart, like he needed the leverage to balance his wide bulk.

I waited for him to start, trying to keep my face relaxed. I didn’t want him reading anything into my expression. Like my boyfriend was mixed up with a kidnapper and murderer.

“I understand the McBrides were staying at Mr. McBride’s parents’ condo—on your advice.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell me why you suggested that?”

I took a deep breath and hoped my voice wouldn’t crack. My stomach monkeys started tossing each other against my gastric walls. It felt like I was getting into trouble. Maybe he could read my mind and he knew I was holding back. But I didn’t want to implicate Mack in something that I didn’t even understand myself.

I explained my theory about Howard’s killer and the kidnappings. I told him that I thought Carl was trying to find his baby—Nikki’s baby. I left out the part about the cloning and let him think Carl fathered the baby in the traditional manner. I told the lieutenant that all of the victims of the kidnappings knew Howard. And that someone had gotten into my apartment and taken Howard’s card right before his murder and the kidnappings started. Then I even told him about my coffee mug hypothesis.

His thick auburn unibrow puckered and his gaze intensified. I wasn’t sure if he was mad or fascinated by my ideas. He might have already known everything I told him. And some. He was the professional, after all. He watched me a while after I stopped talking. It gave me heartburn the way his eyes drilled into me. No wonder the monkeys were going nuts in there with all that heat. Their feet were sizzling on hot coals.

“Someone broke in? Did you report it?”

I shuffled my feet. “Um, no.”

His gaze didn’t falter. His red buzz-cut seemed to darken and bristle. I don’t think he was very happy with me.

“It didn’t seem important. Then. I can see now—”

“Did you ever mention to anyone where the McBrides were staying?”

I let the card theft go and thought back to Saturday night.

“Yes. Well,
I
didn’t tell, but a lot of people heard. Saturday we were all at a benefit dinner for the hospital. It came up in conversation.”

“Who is ‘we’?”

“Carl Schroeder, his date, Sheila Langley. My date, Jim Mackenzie. His sister, Jackie Schroeder—”

“Schroeder? As in Carl?”

“Yes, but they’re divorced. An older couple, Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth—some rich people who’ve given gobs of money to the hospital. And a guy named Scott. I didn’t catch his last name. Jackie might know. She talked to him more than I did.”

“And all these people knew, as of Saturday evening, where the McBrides were staying?”

“I guess that’s right.”

“But you say you didn’t tell them?”

“No, um, my boyfriend kind of did. At least he said who’s house they were at, but not where it was.”

“Had he known for a time before this?”

“Yeah, I suppose. I think I told him a few days before.”

“Okay. Thank you, then, Ms. Johnston. That’s all I needed to ask for now. Thank you for your time.”

“Sure. Anytime.”

He left and I flopped on the couch, nearly squishing Ollie. I needed an antacid.

“Wow. I didn’t like that.”

Ollie thought it was pretty disquieting himself. All those questions. He didn’t like questions from strangers. You know. His consistency and all.

Chapter 34

The unit wasn’t very busy. After checking my ladies—none were in active labor—I asked Sarge to watch them so I could run up to check on Anna.

She was improving. Vitals were more stable, she was off Pavulon, the vent rate was lower, and the evening nurse had felt a slight squeeze from her hand. Joe, with his big sad eyes, was sitting in the corner looking as though he hadn’t slept in years. I gave him a hug and just held on tightly as the relief flooded through me that she’d turned a corner. I told Joe I couldn’t stay right now, but I’d come back after my shift.

We stepped out of the cubical and into the hallway outside the ICU so we could talk openly.

“Lieutenant Fosdick came by again,” he said. “Said they’re calling this a kidnapping and attempted murder—for now, until we know if—”

—Anna will survive and what happened to Charlotte
, is what he couldn’t say. My mind cried back Anna
will
survive. We
will
find Charlotte.

“—if anything changes,” he finished.

I couldn’t talk. I was afraid I’d choke up and then what good would I be to Joe? A deep, slow breath calmed me.

“He came to see me too,” I finally said, getting a hold of myself. “Did he think it was the same kidnapper as the others?”

“Maybe, though it was different. The others didn’t end up with someone on life support. But maybe would have if they’d been forced. The gun Anna had might have made him panic.”

“Did he say anything about leads, about knowing where Charlotte might be?”

“No. He didn’t talk much. I couldn’t read him.”

“Neither could I. He seemed different.”

Joe nodded. It was a pathetic sad twitch with so little energy.

“Can you get some sleep?”

“I doze off and on in the chair. Mom and Dad took turns sitting with me. They went home to sleep for a bit.”

“You call me if there’s anything I can do. I’ll be here all night and my patient load is light.”

“I better get back to her. I hate to leave her alone in there,” Joe said.

“I’ll sit with her in the morning. Then you can at least grab a shower. You don’t smell as good as usual,” I joked.

He mustered a weak smile and disappeared back into the ICU.

I returned to the unit and lost myself in my work. I stayed close to one lady whose blood pressure was on the rise. I didn’t leave her room much, since I’d given sleepers to my other two patients and they were dreaming away till morning when they were both scheduled for Pitocin. There were only five of us on tonight the load was so light. Charge Sarge came in around one to let me know I’d be going to first lunch with Sheila. Sarge and the other two nurses would go to second lunch.

“Sheila? What’s she doing here?” I asked in a whisper so I wouldn’t bother my patient.

“Said she’s well enough to work. She’s using her thumb and index. I gave her an easy assignment.”

“Wow. I thought she didn’t like to work. If I had a reason as good as hers to stay home—”

“People can surprise you.”

“She probably came just so she could torment me.”

“I’ll be back to relieve you in an hour.” And she left.

An hour on the dot, Sarge returned and I went to lunch. Sheila, with her red fiberglass-encased hand, stood at the desk waiting for me. I mean, actually
waiting
for me.

“Going downstairs?” she asked in a gruff voice. She must have wanted to know where I’d be so she could spring her trap.

“Yeah. Sorry. Don’t wor—”

“Let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

Could it be she wanted to be with me?

“You can help me with my tray.”

I could help her with her tray.

“I can help you with your smoke too, if you’d like. Your blood-nicotine levels must be pretty low by now.” I watched to see if she caught my sarcasm.

“I don’t smoke anymore.”

My High Tops fused to the tile. “You what?”

“I quit.”

“No way.”

“Yes. Way.” She started again for the elevators. I got my sneakers unglued and caught up with her.

“How’s that going?”

“It’s a load of crap.”

“How do you mean?”

“These useless patches.” She pulled up her scrub top and showed me her flank. She had three patches on like they were plugging random air leaks. “I want a smoke so bad, I’m ready to rip these things off, roll them up, and smoke
them
.”

(Hey, get a load of that. We were actually talking. Sharing. Wow. Will wonders never cease?)

“I don’t think you’re supposed to wear three of those at once.”

She shot me a look, like don’t push it, and we boarded the elevator in our newfound ability to tolerate one another.

In the cafeteria, we ordered our food, then waited for the cook to fry up our grub. After he spread out the eggs for my omelet—I still hadn’t gotten my craving satisfied—he turned around, leaned on the counter, and grinned.

“How are you ladies tonight?” he said in a flirty voice.

“Where’s Betty?” Sheila said.

“Nice to meet you too. Name’s Juan.” His smile didn’t waver.

“Go get Betty. I want
her
to cook my burger.”

“She’s out sick. I can cook anything you want. Even better than Betty.”

“Like hell,” Sheila said. She looked out the wall of windows behind us, huffed, and massaged her nicotine patches.

“Can you make one of Betty’s grilled cheese for me?” I chimed in. He only flicked a quick look in my direction. Then his attention went back to Sheila.

“How’s the hand?” He flung a burger on the grill.

She turned back around with another huff. “Broken.”

“I knew it was the minute I saw it.”

She scowled at him. “You moonlight as an orthopod or something?” She knew how to handle forward guys.

“I was there when Diego slammed the door on your hand.”

“You and everybody else.”

“I’m crushed. You don’t remember me?”

She snubbed him with some murmured profanity and turned away again.

“How ’bout you?” he asked me. “You must remember me.”

“Sorry.” Thought I’d try to imitate Sheila’s style and be indifferently nonchalant, cool.

“I gave you some dinner napkins to wrap up her hand.”

“I didn’t notice,” I said.

“You said thanks.”

“Hmm, guess I was distracted.”

“I looked mighty sharp in my monkey suit.”

“Hey. Don’t overcook my burger,” Sheila said.

“How’d you get your hand in the door anyway?”

“
Diego
wasn’t watching.”

He ogled Sheila’s bust line. “Oh, you can bet Diego was watching. Just not your hand.”

Sheila grunted. “I’ll wait at the table,” she said to me. “I don’t need this.” She tossed me some cash and left, using some of those choice words she always had at the ready.

The fill-in cook laughed, like it’d all been a game to him. Then he turned back to the grill. Guess I didn’t have what Sheila had to keep a guy’s attention. After a few silent minutes, he turned and chucked two full Melamine plates on the stainless steel service counter and returned to the grill to scrape the crud off the surface with his spatula. I transferred the plates to my tray.

Sheila had settled in at a long empty table at the far end of the room, well away from the probing eyes behind the lunch counter. She sat holding her left hand up in front of her, parallel to her sternum and nestled in close protection near her ample breasts.

“How’s the pain control?” I asked, transferring the plates onto the table from the tray.

“Throbs less when it’s up.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Middle and ring finger broken. Twenty odd stitches. A couple of pins in one finger. Tendons probably okay.”

“What’re you on for pain?”

“Tylenol. Worthless. When I’m home, I take Percocet.”

“Try ibuprofen at work. It’s better for bone pain.”

“Dr. Kate, Master pharmacologist.”

“It’s a calling.”

She snorted.

“Were they able to salvage your ability to flip people off so splendidly?”

She actually chuckled.

“You tell me,” she said.

Into my face she held forward her casted hand and the middle finger was already positioned nicely to suggest what she meant. The two metal pins protruding through the skin added to the menacing look of the implement.

“Ooh, that hardware. What a look.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, retracted her arm, and assembled her tomato, lettuce, and bun with her other hand. “I should have tried it out on that idiot with the spatula.”

“Nah, he would’ve thought you were flirting.”

She called him an idiot again, plus a few other choice things, while struggling to pick up her burger one-handed.

“Vegetarian thing didn’t pan out?”

“Can’t give up everything. Carl wants me to lay off the cigarettes.”

“I heard kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray.”

“That’s the most stupid thing you’ve ever said.” She ripped a bite out of her burger with her incisors.

Guess she was right. Probably a stupid maxim left over from junior high. Besides, what kind of moron would know what licking an ashtray was like?

“You like him much—Carl, I mean?”

“Are you a total idiot too?”

The lack of tobacco must have left her more surly than usual.

“I just wondered. You don’t seem like each other’s type. Been together long?”

“A while. We connect. And for your information, yes, I like him.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“Well, so don’t sweat that one. Neither of us likes you much either.”

Wow. Friendship with Sheila was going to be weird.

“Isn’t he a bit older than you?” I asked. “And his eyes are, well, he’s not really a looker. Or in great shape.”

“What makes you such an expert? You probably think Jim is really hot.”

It hadn’t crossed my mind that everyone else didn’t think so. But I wasn’t giving her that.
I
thought he was handsome. What did it matter if Sheila, or anyone else for that matter, had a different opinion?

“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, they say,” I said.

She handed me a foil packet of catsup. “Open this for me.”

After I squeezed some next to her fries and cut her burger in half for her, I asked, “Do you know him very well?” I went on like she hadn’t totally dissed my boyfriend. Smooth. Sly.

“Whadya mean?” she said through a mouthful.

“Oh, like what he does in his free time, does he have any unusual friends?”

Sheila just shrugged and chewed.

“Does he like babies?”

She scowled at me. “Why all the questions?”

“Just curious.” Not really. I wanted to know if she knew anything about kidnappings or the scary, hairy guy.

“Don’t give me the fourth degree.” She sounded on her way to being peeved. Probably best not to push her. I stopped and changed the subject. We talked about TV shows for a while. And she even asked me about Anna and it looked like she had true sympathy in her expression. Then she tossed what was left of her burger onto her pile of fries and got up to leave. She pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and plopped it between her lips faster than I could say
carcinogen
.

“Take care of the tray,” she said with one side of her lips closed around her cigarette, which jerked up and down with each word. “I want to be alone a few minutes.”

“You going to smoke?” This gal puzzled me.

“No, I told you I quit.”

“The cigarette in your mouth confused me.” I snagged three of her leftover fries from under her discarded burger and chewed on them nonchalantly, like we were friends who shared food and this conversation wasn’t weirding me out.

“You really ought to get an education. It’s not smoking if it’s not lit. See. No smoke.”

“I get it. Like a pacifier.”

She huffed. I think I exasperated her.

“Something like that.” And she left.

What a bizarre lunch. Though it did bring me a little peace to know I had one less enemy in my life. I knew we wouldn’t be going out for a movie or shopping together, but at least I didn’t have to worry she would slip poison into my Coke when I wasn’t looking.

Maybe.

After I finished a few more of her fries and dumped our tray, I got back to the unit and wrapped up my shift. Then I went back up to see Joe. I wasn’t there three minutes and Lieutenant Fosdick came in. Joe popped out of his chair like a Jack-in-the-box and looked to the detective with expectations of hearing his daughter had been found.