The Lurking Man (17 page)

Cailean stared out the passenger window; like the day, everything went by in a blur.

“You should call your husband and let him know what happened.”

She shook her head. “No, I can't. We don't even know what is wrong with Beau yet.”

“You're not thinking clearly,” he said, his tone firm. “You need to call him now. No matter what he's done wrong, he deserves to know his child is in distress.”

“OK,” she said, and took her cell phone out of her pocket. Her hand shook uncontrollably and she couldn't operate the touchscreen properly to dial out.

“Damn it!” she shouted in a sudden burst of anger and tossed the phone down by her feet and started to cry.

The ambulance had gained more than a full block on them and the traffic light ahead turned red. The cross traffic started moving and the Jaguar eased to a fast stop.

“Damn,” Emerson said and pounded the steering wheel.

“It doesn't matter. I need you to pull over anyway,” she said.

“What?” He looked at her.

“Pull over, now!”

Emerson pulled to the side of the road, and before he could bring the vehicle to a complete stop, Cailean flung the door open and ran to the tree line. She vomited several times, her heave louder than the sounds of the passing traffic.

Returning to the vehicle with an overpowering smell of vomit that followed her like a generous spray of bad perfume, she spit on the ground and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I need you to take me to a convenience store,” she said.

“But what about your son? We have to get to the hospital.” He pointed in the direction the ambulance drove off in. “They're way ahead of us.”

She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “He wasn't even conscious when they took him. He wouldn't know if I was there or not. My stomach is in knots and I have a feeling that this is going to be the longest day of my life. I need to get this taste out of my mouth.”

“OK.”

She sat in the car and buckled herself in. “Thank you.”

“Are you OK?”

“I'm trying to figure that out.”

“It's OK, I'm here for you,” he said.

“I don't think I can face him.”

“You have to. He's your son.”

“I know, but this all happened because I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy talking to you . . . and drinking.”

“It was an accident.”

“Would you consider going into the hospital with me? I don't want to have to do this alone.”

Emerson shook his head. “I don't want to overstep my bounds. I think this is a private matter for you and your husband.”

“Please,” she said. “It would help me a great deal if you were there. You don't have to say or do anything. Just be there.”

He gave in with a nod. “OK, but at least call your husband and tell him what happened.”

He handed her his phone.

“I can't thank you enough,” she said. “I don't know why you're being so nice to me, but I appreciate it more than I could ever say.”

“It's the least I can do.”

She took the phone from him and dialed Wilson's phone number with the tremble still shaking her hands. Turning her back to Emerson, she placed the phone against her ear and dreaded having to hear the sound of Wilson's voice.

 

 

Cailean stood outside of the Jaguar on the driver's side. Emerson rolled down the window and waited for Cailean to speak.

“I need to use the restroom, too, while I'm here. I'm going to wash up and it is going to take me a few extra minutes. Do you need me to bring you out anything?”

“No,” Emerson said. “But thank you. I need to use the time to call Stacey's doctor and see how she is.”

She acknowledged what he said with a subtle nod. “I shouldn't be too long.”

She walked into the 7-11. The beverage aisle ran along the side and rear wall of the store and the snack aisle was located directly across from that. The solid wall of aluminum, plastic, and glass bottles was stocked full and displayed behind glass doors that kept them cold. The order of selection went from sports drinks, water, soda, and lastly, beer.

She pretended to browse the snacks so she could have a look at Emerson over the four-foot high aisles. His attention remained away from the store and his cell phone
was pressed firmly against his ear. While he spoke, his free hand waved around and seemed to follow each word.
 

Cailean moved fast. She pulled the refrigerator door open, grabbed a twelve-pack, and hurried to the register.

“I need to use the restroom,” she said and glanced over her shoulder to see if Emerson was still occupied. Satisfied that he was, she paid the cashier with crumpled bills that were stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and she hurried to the bathroom with her purchase.

Ignoring the handwritten
No merchandise in bathroom!
sign, she entered the small room that reeked of cleaning products. A toilet bowl, sink with no counter, metal garbage can, hazy mirror, and a wall mounted electric powered hand dryer were the only fixtures in the room. Locking the door, she placed the cardboard case into the sink and shook in anticipation.
 

The crack of the pull-tab splitting the perforated aluminum caused her to moan in anticipation. Cold vapor oozed from the hole like a curled finger inviting her in. Titling her head back, she gulped down the beer and stopped only when the can completely emptied. A series of burps made enough room in her gut for the next beer.

She tossed the empty can into the trash and quickly opened another. As she drank each one, regret began to settle in and interrupt her rhythm—maybe she should have gotten a full case instead of a twelve pack.

 

 

“Are you sure you think this is a good idea?”Emerson said.

Cailean mustered the most convincing tone she could and looked at Emerson. “I've never been so certain in my life until now.”

“Your speech is slurred, you can barely keep your eyes open, and you smell like you've bathed in beer.”

“Well what the hell do you expect?” she said, and shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “Look at what I'm going through! I just needed a little something to help me with my nerves. I'm fine.”

The elevator slowed and lurched to a stop. She stumbled and teetered and Emerson caught her.

“Easy,” he said, and held her upright.

“No, that wasn't my fault,” she said and worked on finding her balance. “I wasn't expecting the elevator to jerk like that.”

“Listen, I really don't want to get in the middle of this. I'll make sure you get to your son, and then I'm going to leave. I'm sure your husband is here by now and you two will need to talk.”

“Screw him. I don't have anything to say to him.”

“For your son's sake you two need to open up the lines of communication. You're stronger working together than apart. Believe me, I know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The dysfunction and how it affected the people close to me.”

“It seems to me you have a lot of money and yet you're talking to me about dysfunction?” She laughed. “Something about what you're saying doesn't make much sense.”

“It's not funny,” he said.

“I wish I had your problem.”

“No, you don't. And believe me, money doesn't fix everything.”

“No, but it sure would help.”

“I would give away everything I have to make my problems disappear.”

They stepped into the quiet lobby with only one direction to go in. Heavy double doors blocked the way.

“Well, it doesn't matter how hard I try,” she said. “Wilson will never understand me. He's an idiot and I can guarantee you that he's going to give me all sorts of hell over this.”

“That's why I told you I felt this was a private time for your family.”

Emerson pulled the door open and it moved with ease.

“If you want to leave me, then go ahead. I thought we were becoming friends, but I see you're a phony just like everyone else. Get back into your fancy car and drive away. Just forget about my problems and me. I handled my
business before you came and I can handle it after you're gone.”
 

“Listen,” he said. “I didn't mean it to sound like I was leaving you or forgetting you forever. I would like to know how your son is and I want to be your friend. This is just something I feel I shouldn't be in the middle of.”

“How could you say that?” She stared at him with bright red eyes that begged him for support. “You were there. You saw the entire thing and you helped him. You are a part of this!”

“No, I'm not. Not the way I ever wanted to be.”

“If it weren't for you I might've moved him and injured him further.”

“Yeah, if it wasn't for me . . . I feel guilty about it, too. If we never met this wouldn't have happened. If I was standing a little closer I might have caught him before he hit the ground and we'd be laughing instead of doing this.”

“You know what? Why don't you just forget it. Thank you for everything you've done,” she said, and turned away from him and fell. Emerson rushed to her side and helped her stand.

“You won't make it ten feet alone in your condition.”

“I guess I am that drunk.”

“Come on, I'll take you.”

The white walls, bright lights, and polished floor made Cailean squint.

“What room did they say he was in?” she said.

“Number six.”

She tittered. “A place this big and they put him in room six?”

Her voice echoed and the slur in her words was obvious.

“Try and keep your voice down,”Emerson said. “We're in a hospital, not a nightclub.”

He encouraged her to continue walking the long, empty hall with a tug on her jacket. The rooms started at number thirty and counted downwards.

“We have to walk down to the end,” he said.

“All the way down there?” Cailean stopped and pointed.

“Are you going to be able to make it down there?”

Her expression went from doubt to acceptance in a matter of moments. “I can do that, no problem.”

“Let's go then, and quit stopping so much.”

She saluted him and walked the hallway.

“Tell me you noticed that the little bastard couldn't make it easy on me by getting a room closer to the elevator.”

“You shouldn't say things like that.”

“Why not?” she said. “I've gotta walk all the way to the end.”

“Because people might take you seriously.”

“But I am being serious. You might not know this, but Beau has always given me trouble.”

Emerson sighed. “I think you've had way too much to drink. You're saying these things because you're upset and drunk. Now let's get to your son. We don't want to keep him waiting any longer than we already have.”

“No, wait,” she said and stood her ground. “I need to ask you something first.”

“What is it?”

“Do you think Beau might have done this on purpose?”

He gave her a double take. “Done what on purpose?”

“Fall.”

“Fall?”

“Yes, fall. Do you think he did it to get attention?”

“Are you serious?” Emerson shook his head. “I can't believe you're even saying that. I told you I saw the entire thing and it wasn't on purpose.”

He looked up and down the corridor and saw that they were alone.

“And I said that I think you should be careful with the things you say. Growing up my father always told me that what is in a drunk person's words is what is in their sober heart.”

“And my daddy was a killer. Do you know what he told me?”

Emerson didn't respond.

“He told me that I didn't have to worry about anyone hurting me ever again. He was full of crap.”

“Stop and listen to what you're saying.”

“Don't tell me what to do.”

“Come on,” he said and tugged on her jacket again.

“Stop pulling on me,” she said, and pulled back. “I can't stand that.”

“Well, I need you to keep moving. You said you could do this, that it was no problem.”

“I can. But you don't need to yank on my damn jacket.”

They neared the end of the hallway without further incident. The last door was number fifteen and the hallway bent to the right. A small black sign mounted on the wall directed them to rooms fourteen down to one.

“We have to go this way,” he said and continued on.

“No!” she said and plopped herself down on the floor. “Where are you taking me? Where is my son? And does Wilson have something to do with this?”

“Your son is at the end of this hall. Come on.”

“Are you trying to keep me from seeing him or something? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

“No, it's not,” he said and looked down both corridors. Members of the medical staff had emerged from their rooms and were watching them.

“Keep your voice down,” he said. “I didn't know there was another hallway and you're being really loud.”

“I don't care.”

“I do,” he said and knelt beside her. “I'm trying to help you like you've asked.”

“Then tell me why are the rooms spaced so far apart?”

“I don't know, but we need to move on. We're starting to get everyone's attention and not in a good way.”

She looked left and right and indignation curled her lips. “What are you people looking at? My son is probably going to die and you're all judging me because I'm upset? Give me a break!”

Emerson stood. “Come on, Cailean, let's go.”

“Screw them! Every single one of them!”

“Your son needs you. Don't get yourself thrown out of here.”