Snake Skin (42 page)

"I know what's best for my daughter. You
can't keep me from her." Melissa shoved past him, glared at the
hospital security guard until he stepped away from the door, and
barged into Ashley's hospital room.

Footsteps announced the arrival of the
doctor following on her heels. "She's suffering from dehydration,
some abrasions that we debrided, and shock."

His words bounced off Melissa. She stood
frozen, staring down at her daughter.

Ashley, dressed in a hospital gown, lay
curled up in a ball, shivering despite a mountain of blankets and
the room's oppressive heat. Her eyes were closed so tight they
pulled her face into a mass of wrinkles.

At first Melissa felt concern. "My God, what
did that monster do to you?"

"Our preliminary examination didn't reveal
any other injuries," the doctor told her.

She could see that was true. Sure, Ashley's
hair was matted, her color a bit pale, but she was fine. Seemed
fine. Just like always.

"Ashley, dear. It's your mother. Open your
eyes. C'mon, Ashley, don't you want to go home?"

Ashley pulled away with an animal-like snarl
when Melissa touched her exposed wrist. She pulled her body farther
under the covers and squeezed her eyes tighter.

Melissa's fear shifted into anger. She knew
this posture, knew it all too well—Ashley's way of getting her own
way, tormenting her mother into giving in to whatever her current
demands were.

For two days Melissa had suffered through
hell, been half driven mad with fear that her daughter was dead or
worse, and now Ashley was back and she was fine. Just fine. Except
she still insisted on making Melissa out to be the badguy.

"Ashley. I know you're awake. Open your eyes
and look at me. Now." Steel lanced through Melissa's voice. She
wasn't going to take this crap—not after what Ashley had done. "Do
you have any idea what you put me through? Running away like that?
I was worried sick."

The earnest pediatrician laid a hand on her
arm. "Please, Mrs. Yeager. Let's talk outside, let Ashley
rest."

"There's no need to patronize me, young man.
I know what's best for my daughter. And it's to go home with
me."

"We need—"

"I need you to make whatever arrangements
necessary for me to take my daughter home. She's suffered enough, I
certainly don't intend to allow her to remain here in the care of
strangers."

"No." The single syllable ripped through the
room like a predator shredding its victim.

Startled, Melissa looked down at her
daughter. Ashley's eyes were open—wide open, the whites showing all
around, making her look like a madwoman.

"Ashley, dear. You're coming home. With
me."

"No."

"Don't argue with me, young lady—"

"I'll kill you."

The words struck Melissa like a hard slap.
"What did you say? You don't talk to me like that—"

"I'll kill you! Kill, kill, kill!" Ashley
sat bolt upright, throwing her blankets aside. The veins and
muscles in her neck were tight, popping out like a wild animal's.
Her teeth were bared, seeking blood.

Melissa stepped back. "Maybe a night here
would be best…"

"You're not my mother. I have no mother, no
father," Ashley continued in a voice that made Melissa hug herself.
A voice hovering on the primordial edge of audible, humming with
danger. "If you touch me again, you're dead. I'm dead. Everyone is
dead. Everyone is dead. Dead, dead, dead…"

Ashley collapsed, falling out of bed, her
body limp, not breaking her fall, eyes wide open but unseeing. The
doctor quickly rescued her, gently returning her to bed, replacing
her covers. Ashley didn't seem to notice. It was like she was in a
trance.

"Has she ever done anything like this
before?" the pediatrician asked as he guided Melissa back out to
the hallway. "Experienced delusions or catatonia?"

Melissa nodded, unable to speak for a
moment. "When she was young, she used to have staring spells. Day
dreams. The doctors tested her, said nothing was wrong, that she
was just a sensitive child and it was her way to block out
excessive stimulus. She's always been high-strung."

She stared beyond him to Ashley who stared
directly into the overhead light without blinking, drool escaping
from the corner of her mouth.

"I think this is more than daydreams," the
doctor said, shutting the door on Ashley—or the girl who used to be
Ashley.

Melissa felt something twist and break
inside her. She covered her mouth with her palm, but that didn't
stop the tears from gurgling out. She never cried, hated crying, it
meant you were weak, a failure. But still the tears came—like never
before.

"It's all my fault," she whispered. "All my
fault."

"You made it," Megan said, bouncing, waking
up Nick from where he lay snoring beside her in the hospital
bed.

Lucy threw her purse under a chair and
wrapped her arms around her daughter, practically smothering her.
The damn oxygen monitor screeched in alarm.

She ignored the beeping and buried her face
in Megan's hair, kissing her, clutching her, needing her touch.

"Mom, Mom, I can't breathe," Megan finally
said, forcing Lucy to reluctantly release her. "You okay, Mom? You
look like you've been crying."

"I've been better," Lucy confessed. "How are
you doing?"

"Well—" Megan slanted Lucy a "I think I
might seriously be in trouble here" look. "Maybe Dad should tell
you."

Nick eased his weight from the bed and
crossed around it to join Lucy. She felt the weight of his gaze as
he took inventory. He said nothing, didn't have to, merely wrapped
an arm around her waist and snugged her to his side.

"Tell me what?" Lucy said. "Did the doctors
find something?"

"Not exactly," Nick said. "More like they're
finally on the right track." To Lucy's surprise he arched an
eyebrow and gave Megan his sternest look. "Go on, tell her."

"Well…" Megan tilted her chin down and
looked up, batting her eyelashes shamelessly. "I kind of saved
someone too. Just like you do, Mom. Only, I guess I should have
told you guys."

Lucy frowned, glancing from one to the
other. Neither appeared too concerned. She shook her head, in no
mood to play mind games and too tired to puzzle it out. "I've had a
really, really bad day, Megan. Why don't you just tell me and we'll
deal with the consequences later."

"Okay. Remember how you said maybe I could
have a cat? I kinda already do." Megan sat up straight, spurting
words as if a dam had burst. "He's real cute, orange and fuzzy all
over, and he's an orphan, so someone had to save him. He lives
under the back porch. I've been feeding him and taking care of him
and now he comes when I call him, like he knows his name."

"Megan—" Lucy started. Nick squeezed her
waist and she stopped, letting her daughter wind down.

"I feed him, give him fresh water and make
sure he's warm enough and now he's getting fat and he's sooo cute
and friendly, and I've been the one responsible for him." Megan
beamed up at Lucy. "You said I could have a pet once I proved I
could be responsible. So I did."

"The important thing," Nick interjected
before Lucy's blood pressure spiked into
brain-bursting-stroke-range as she tried to follow her daughter's
demented logic while she could barely stay on her feet, "is that
Megan's been playing with a kitten. The doctors are thinking her
fever and swollen glands and everything are caused by
Bartonella."

"Who's that?"

"Mom." Megan rolled her eyes. "You're funny.
Bartonella isn't a who, it's a what. Dr. Scott said it's a tiny
bacteria that got into my blood and it's what's been making me
sick."

"Cat scratch fever," Nick translated.

All she could think of was the inane song by
that name. Lucy felt herself wavering, steadied herself against
Nick's sublimely solid body. "Cat scratch—that can be serious."

"It can be if they don't catch it in time,"
Nick admitted. "But the doctors said if the tests confirm it, all
Megan will need is a few days of antibiotics. To be on the safe
side, they've already started them."

Lucy glanced at the new bags of fluid
dangling from the IV pole. "So, everything's going to be all
right?"

"If it is cat scratch, yes." Nick
intertwined his fingers with hers, squeezing tight. Lucy squeezed
back, turned to look him in the eyes, making sure he wasn't hiding
anything. Nope. Crystal clear, he was telling the truth.

"What about the cat?"

"Boots," Megan chimed in. "His name is
Boots."

"Do we have to—" She couldn't bring herself
to say it, not with Megan staring at her like that. "Is it
contagious?"

Nick shook his head, smiling. "Nope. Boots
will be fine. Although the doctor said we should get him checked
out by a vet and started on his shots and flea medicine."

"So I get to keep him, right? Dad said it
was up to you, but he always says that when he wants to say yes but
thinks you'll say no, but you don't want to say no, not when I did
what you said and proved myself responsible and saved him just like
you save kids and—"

Lucy did the only thing possible to stop
Megan's rambling. She gathered her not-so-little girl into her arms
and squeezed the oxygen from her lungs. Nick joined her, making a
loud, squealing tangle of arms and legs on the hospital bed,
bouncing in time with the beeping of the oxygen alarm.

Finally they separated, Megan's cheeks red
from giggling, Nick smiling his sloe-gin lazy grin of contentment,
and Lucy afraid to exhale for fear it might break the magic
moment.

Jimmy slid into the seat at the hospital
cafeteria table, his stomach growling at the smell of chilimac,
French fries, and apple pie. The couple at the table beside him
didn't even look up, they were so embroiled in their argument.
Jimmy shamelessly eavesdropped as he ate—after all, that was why he
was here.

"Why won't you even go up to see your own
daughter?" the wife demanded. She was a skinny, high-strung,
high-pressure type, all angles and planes and sharp edges.

Jimmy started with pie. Never know when you
might die, so start with the good stuff, Alicia always said. It was
good—especially for hospital food.

Gerald Yeager pushed the remnants of his own
pie around with his fork. "You heard what the doctors said. She's
in shock, traumatized. We shouldn't push her."

"Coward. You just don't want to face what
you drove her to!" Melissa's voice screeched past Jimmy, raising
the hairs on the back of his neck. "You should have seen her, she
looked awful. And the things she said to me—she'd rather be with
that, that, pervert than come home."

Jimmy hid his smile with a sip of milk. He
licked his milk mustache away, restraining his impulse to simply
shoot the man and woman and put them out of Ashley's misery. She
was such a good kid, didn't deserve such lousy parents.

Good thing she had him now.

He'd only half finished his fries—they
weren't as good as the ones at the Tastee Treet—and chilimac when
Melissa stood.

"Where are you going?" Gerald asked.

"Back up to Ashley. Maybe she's calmed down
by now."

Gerald blew his breath out in a
long-suffering sigh. "Melissa, they have her under sedation,
they're sending her to Western Psych tomorrow, they're not going to
let you disturb her."

"Disturb her? I'm her mother." She spun on
her heel and stalked away. Gerald didn't even watch her leave,
simply shook his head and returned to his food.

Jimmy bused his table and followed Melissa
onto the elevator. She got off on the fourth floor. He kept riding
up to the top of the tower. Fourth floor, that was
interesting—Lucy's daughter was on the fourth floor as well.

The elevator stopped at the top then started
back down. This time Jimmy stabbed the button for the fourth
floor.

He stepped out, looking up and down the two
hallways leading from the elevator bank. No signs of any guards
loitering outside a patient's door. The clerk at the nursing
station looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm trying to find Ashley Yeager," Jimmy
said, flashing his ICE credentials too fast for the clerk to
read.

She didn't even glance at them. "I'm sorry,
sir. We don't have any patients by that name. Maybe if you check at
the security desk downstairs?"

"Thanks, I'll do that." Jimmy got on the
elevator before the clerk could question him or call for
assistance. Lucy must have already given the staff instructions,
trying to avoid reporters, no doubt.

He whistled soundlessly as the floors
whizzed past. Too bad she'd forgotten that he already knew where he
could find one special little girl.

All he needed was to pick up a few supplies
from his storage locker, make a few phone calls, and he'd have
everything he needed to get Ashley back where she belonged.

With him. Safe and sound.

Chapter 38

Monday, 1:32 am

Content that she'd be able to keep Boots,
Megan had fallen asleep, sprawled across the hospital bed in
blissful abandonment. Nick had sweet-talked the nurses into giving
him some bandages and they were now in Megan's bathroom where he
was changing Lucy's dressings.

He was none too happy when he saw the
surgeon's handiwork. Even less so when Burroughs called. She'd
asked him to take over guarding Ashley inside her room, two doors
down the hallway. She trusted Burroughs a lot more than any
hospital rent-a-cop, knew he'd get her if Ashley woke up and seemed
ready to be interviewed.

Learning that Ashley was only two doors away
hadn't made Nick any happier. He relented once she told him about
the barn and the conditions of Ashley's captivity.