“Do you really think it will tell you what you need to know?”
“Yes,” I nod.
“Then I’ll do it.”
Fifty-Three
“Can I help you with something?” Jessica Blanchett asks me when she comes around the side of the nurse’s station.
The nearly twenty-four hours it took for John to get me the financial records from the bank was enough time to sift through everything else and find the pieces of my theory. Now it’s just a matter of making sure those pieces fit together.
“Yes,” I say. “Actually, I think you can. You work at River Bend rehabilitation center, right?”
“Yes,” she says. “I volunteer at the center as much as I can.”
“That’s very admirable,” I say. “Can I ask why you started doing that?”
“My brother had problems with addiction,” she says. “I knew from a very young age I wanted to help people who are struggling.”
“I can understand that,” I tell her. “I’m working with a family right now to investigate a disappearance. Do you remember a patient you worked with eighteen years ago, Misty Gray?”
“I can’t discuss the patients I work with,” she says.
“I’m not asking for any details,” I say. “I just want to know if you remember her. If it helps, I already know the two of you were rather close. I’ve seen the picture of you two comparing your pregnant bellies.”
She takes a breath. “I remember her. It was so sweet. I couldn’t believe a person like her had ended up in that center. And I hated myself every time I thought that. That’s the kind of thinking that alienates people with addiction problems from the rest of society. It’s as though we think they should be degenerates or some sort of lesser humans. But I couldn’t help it. That was what I thought when I met her. She was kind and shy. Nervous. It was obvious I was going through a lot and didn’t want to talk to people about it.”
“But the two of you bonded over being pregnant,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “We were just a couple of days apart. We were going through it together. I don’t have any sisters or close girlfriends, so it was nice having somebody I could talk to.”
“She gave birth here, didn’t she?” I ask.
“Yes,” Jessica says. “After her discharge.”
“Were you there for her labor and delivery?”
“I was,” she says. She’s starting to get warier of me.
“That must have been really special,” I say. “Being able to go through that together and watch her give birth. But if you were only a few days away from your own due date, why were you still working? I would think you would be on maternity leave by then.”
“I wasn’t at my due date quite yet.”
“Oh, Misty delivered early?”
“Not dangerously so, but enough that she was there before I went on leave. I was very glad to be able to witness that with her,” she says.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“Your child. What did you have? A girl or a boy?”
“Oh,” she says. “A boy.”
“Do you have any pictures? I don’t have any children, so I get my fix from other people.”
“No,” she says. “I don’t have any pictures with me. I’m sorry. I’m not understanding what you need from me.”
I smile at her. “It’s okay. I’ve got everything I need. Thank you for speaking with me.” I start to turn away, then turn back. “That cut on the side of your face looks as if it was pretty serious. What happened?”
Jessica lifts her fingertips to rest on the healing wound that covers one corner of her forehead and goes into her hair.
“I’m just clumsy,” she tells me. “I tripped and hit my head on the corner of a table.”
I smile again. “I hate it when things like that happen. You should have seen me the last time I moved. I was a mess of bumps and bruises. Anyway, I hope it feels better soon. Thank you again.”
By this point, my car seems to know the way to the other hospital without my even having to steer it. I get inside and go directly to Mary Gray’s room. I’m not expecting anyone to be there; I’m surprised to see Leona and Ashley sitting beside the bed. Ashley’s holding her grandmother’s hand, but Leona seems more focused on her sister, her body curled slightly away as she watches her carefully.
“Ashley,” I say.
She turns to me and smiles. “Hi, Emma. I was here having my stitches checked, so I thought I would stop in and see Gran.”
“Grandma,” Leona whispers.
“I was just telling her tomorrow is Friday the thirteenth. I hope everything will be okay. You never know what might happen on that day. Right, Leona?”
Leona jumps up from her chair and runs out of the room, her hand over her mouth as if she’s going to throw up.
“Ashley,” I say carefully. “We need to talk.”
“It’s so funny how she acts like that. When we’re at home she tells me everything.”
“Ashley?” Misty comes to the door and looks in. She’s surprised to see me. “Oh, Agent Griffin. Hi. I didn’t realize you were here.”
“I was just stopping in to check on your mother. How is she doing?”
“Better,” Misty says. “Still not out of the woods. Come on, honey. We need to get going. We have that therapist appointment this afternoon.”
“Therapist?” I frown. “I thought you didn’t want Ashley speaking with a therapist.”
“I changed my mind. I think it would do her good to talk through what happened to her and try to get past it,” she says.
“Can I have a word with her just really fast?” I ask.
Misty glances at her watch. “We don’t have the time. Maybe tomorrow.”
They leave, Ashley glancing over her shoulder at me before heading down the hallway. I walk over to the bed and look down into Mary’s face before checking the table. The medical ID bracelet is still sitting there. I pick it up and turn it over, reading the inscription before
