A woman sat up and Mariska moved to help her to the bathroom. As she led her away from the group, she heard Izzy bark again. She turned to see another woman shuffling toward a water cooler.
“She’s thirsty,” explained Bob.
“Well help her.”
He shrugged. “She seems to know what she’s doing.”
“The dog woke me up,” said another woman from her bed.
Mariska pointed to her for Bob. “Sing her a lullaby.”
Bob scowled. “Are you out of your mind?”
Mariska helped Pee-pee Woman go to the bathroom before leading her back to her spot. She stopped next at the bedside of the woman who couldn’t sleep and was now sitting straight up in bed.
“Lullaby, and good night...” Mariska held the woman’s frail hand and she slid down her pillow to close her eyes.
Izzy barked and Mariska spotted another woman getting out of bed.
“Izzy tells us when one of them gets up,” said Bob, petting the dog’s head.
Mariska huffed. “She also wakes up two more.”
“I can’t sleep,” said another woman from the other side of the room.
The room’s overhead lights flipped on and Laura appeared with a crowd of nurses and patients in wheelchairs behind her.
“Time for the next group,” she said.
Bob’s expression contorted into what looked like horror. “How many groups are there?”
Laura handed him their bag. “They’ll circulate in and out all day and then you’ll spend the night with the last group.”
Bob squinted at Mariska.
“This was a great idea.”
“I have to pee,” said a voice on the other side of the room.
Izzy barked.
Chapter Thirty-One
“On the upside, we finally have some time to ourselves,” said Declan, standing in front of his sliding patio doors, watching the storm pick up speed. His hair and clothes were damp from setting up their security perimeter. He felt safer now that he’d finished. What the tripwires wouldn’t stop, maybe the storm would. By the time he’d come inside, the winds had increased to the point he felt as if he were being sandblasted away.
Charlotte slipped her arms around his waist. “We have everything we need; food, water, flashlights, a serial killer stalking us...”
“I’ll hear her coming a mile away,” said Declan.
“Famous last words.”
He turned and pulled her toward him. “With the storm outside, it’s kind of romantic.”
She grinned. “It is. And Jamie probably won’t come during the hurricane—”
The front door opened, slamming against the wall behind it, sending Declan’s heart into his throat. He lunged for the gun he’d left in its holster on the living room table. Charlotte twirled out of his arms to avoid being knocked over.
“Happy hurricane!”
The figure in the doorway held his arms in the air.
Seamus.
His uncle and a woman Declan didn’t recognize stood at the doorway, both looking as if they’d crawled out of a well.
Declan dropped his gun to his side, tucking it from view behind his leg, but not before Seamus spotted it.
“Is that how we greet people now?” his uncle asked, his Irish accent unusually thick.
Declan tucked the gun into the back of his shorts. “What are you doing here?”
Seamus shook his hair like a dog. “Hurricane party cancelled on account of exploding toilets.”
The tall woman at his side waved. “Hi.”
“Are you going to introduce us?” asked Charlotte.
Seamus closed the door behind him. “Aye, this is Snookie. Snookie, this is Charlotte and my nephew Declan.”
“Hello,” said Snookie, trying to shake the water off her own hair without sending it flying all over Declan’s house the way Seamus had.
When Snookie looked away, Declan sent a pointed glare in his uncle’s direction he hoped said, who is this woman?
Seamus caught his meaning. “Snookie came to the Hurricane Party and she’s got nowhere to stay.”
“You make me sound homeless,” said Snookie giggling.
Seamus elbowed her. “Ah, you don’t want to ride out the storm in a hotel when you could be here with us and plenty of food. If I know Declan we’re set for a week here.”
Declan’s mood darkened. “You’re staying here?”
Seamus shrugged. “I have to, Boyo. I told you. My toilet broke.”
“Don’t you have toilets in the bar downstairs?”
“Sure, but the place is a mess.” Seamus walked into the house, leaving a brown trail of mud in his wake.
“Could you not walk around in your muddy, toilet water shoes?”
Seamus kicked his loafers towards the coat closet. “Don’t worry, we’ll be as quiet as church mice.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, holding it up for Snookie to see.
“Beer?”
She slipped off her own shoes. “Sure.”
Seamus popped the top and handed it to her before holding up another in Declan’s direction. “Beer?”
Declan curled a finger, beckoning his uncle to him. “Could I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure, spit it out.”
Declan pointed to the hall. “In the back?”
Seamus glanced at Snookie. “Anything you need to tell me you can say in front of her.”
“So you two know each other?” asked Charlotte.
Snookie shook her head. “We met this afternoon.”
Declan stared at Seamus until he sighed and winked at Snookie. “I’ll be right back.”
Declan headed into his bedroom and closed the door after Seamus joined him inside.
“Sorry to show up like this but the bar is a disaster. Between the mess from the party and—”
“As annoying as this really is, believe it or not, you being here is the least of my problems. Jamie’s in town, remember?”
“You know for sure now?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why would she come here?”
“According to Stephanie, she’s here to kill Charlotte and me.”
Seamus pointed toward the front of the house. “I saw the tripwire out front.”
Declan put his hands on his hips. “I meant to ask you
