In the parking lot, I discovered that Marco had taken his Prius, leaving me my bright yellow Vette-not exactly camouflage material. Not enough to deter me from my mission, either. Thinking it would be better if I wasn’t seen behind the wheel, however, I made the mistake of letting Rafe drive, then held on to my seat with a white- knuckled grip as we sped away from every stop sign and light between apartment and hospital. In between hanging on for dear life and ordering him to drop his speed, I explained the purpose of our trip.
“Damn! I don’t blame you for wanting to be sure Harding’s on his last breath,” Rafe said.
“So how about slowing down even more so we’re not about to draw our last breath?”
We parked on the top floor of the hospital garage-less chance of being seen-then took the stairs to the main level and crossed the street to the hospital. I steered Rafe toward the X-ray department in the basement and asked the volunteer at the sign-in desk for Nikki.
A few minutes later, Nikki and another tech came out of a doorway in the back, both women dressed in green uniforms. “Abby, is everything all right?” Nikki asked.
“We’re fine,” I said as Rafe gazed appreciatively at the attractive girl at Nikki’s side. “I just had a question for you.”
Rafe held out his hand to Nikki’s coworker, turning the full force of his charm on her. “Hi, I’m Rafe Salvare. And you are…?”
The young woman blushed as she took his hand. “Erin Sells.”
“An X-ray technician, I see,” Rafe said.
Nikki took me aside to whisper, “Is he your sitter tonight?”
I held my index finger to my lips to hush her. “I have to ask a really big favor, Nik. Tom Harding is a patient on the second floor, and I need to know why he’s been admitted.”
“Harding’s here?” she whispered, her eyes huge. “I haven’t seen any cops on that floor.”
“He isn’t being guarded. He was released because of his health. It’s a long story that I’ll tell you later. Right now, I really need to know how bad off he is. Can you help me out?”
“I’d like to, Ab, but I can’t get into the filing cabinet up there without permission. I could be sanctioned for doing that.”
“Can’t you just glance at the chart at the foot of Harding’s bed?”
“That contains only his immediate information, like current meds and dosages, temperature and blood pressure readings. Everything else, including his medical history, is kept in a file at the nurses’ station.”
“There’s no way you can sneak a little peek for me?” Nikki wrinkled her forehead, looking worried. “I don’t know, Ab…”
“If you don’t feel safe, then forget it,” I said.
“Well,” she said, “maybe if the nurses weren’t around, I could take a fast look.”
We managed to drag Rafe away from Erin, then took the elevator to the second floor and waited while Nikki checked out the nurses on duty. She came back moments later to report that there were two presently at the station.
“Now we need a diversion,” I said.
“I could take off my clothes and streak past them,” Rafe offered.
“And wind up in the psych ward,” Nikki said.
“Or jail,” I said. “How about if I stage an accident on the landing between floors? Rafe, you can run to the nurses to get help for me, and while they’re away, Nikki, you can take a look at Harding’s chart.”
Nikki thought it over, then shrugged. “We can try.”
We stepped into the stairwell next to the elevator bank to check out the scene of the so-called accident. I hurried down to the landing and sat down on the cold metal, making sure to twist one leg under me. “How does this look?”
“Perfect,” Nikki said as I rose to brush myself off. “I’ll watch for the right moment, then send Rafe back here to signal you to get into place.”
We high-fived each other. A door opened above and footsteps came our way, so we scooted up the stairs and waited outside the door until Rafe peered in and declared it clear.
“What should I do if someone finds me before the nurses get there?” I asked.
“Moan,” Nikki said, “loudly. And don’t let anyone move you until the nurses examine you. As soon as I take a look at the chart, I’ll come to the stairwell and let you know.”
“Okay, sounds like a plan.” I watched them head out the door; then I dashed down to the landing, hoping we hadn’t forgotten anything.
As the minutes ticked by, I began muttering, “Hurry up, hurry up,” and checking my watch-it was almost seven o’clock-until Rafe finally appeared and motioned for me to get into position. Then he dashed away, and I arranged my legs to look as though I’d slipped down the last few steps, hoping no one else stumbled upon our staged scene.
Suddenly, the door above me opened, and I heard Rafe say, “She’s down there.”
I moaned and rubbed my right ankle as the nurses hurried down the steps toward me. One of the nurses, a woman whose name tag said Teresa Warner, crouched down to examine my right leg. She felt along my calf and shin, probed the bones in my ankle, and turned my foot. I gasped for effect, but not enough to raise any big concerns, or so I thought.
“I think I just bruised something,” I said, wincing. “Rafe, help me up.”
“We need to get you to X-ray,” Teresa said. “You might have a broken bone.”
Oh no! That would require time and money I wasn’t willing to spend. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. Rafe, would you help me up, please?”
“No, don’t do that,” the other nurse said, dashing up the stairs. “I’ll call for assistance.”
I glanced at Rafe and gave him a
At that moment, Nikki came through the door, saw me, and cried, “Abby, what happened?”
“I missed a few steps,” I said as Nikki raced down the stairs toward me. “Teresa thinks I might have a broken bone.”
“Let’s get you down to X-ray,” she said. To Nurse Teresa she said, “I know these two. I’ll take responsibility for them.”
Rafe scooped me up and started down the stairs, calling back, “X-ray’s in the basement, right?”
“I’ll show you,” Nikki offered, leading the way.
I glanced over Rafe’s shoulder at the stunned nurse. “Thanks, Teresa. You’ve been a great help.”
“You’re a lot heavier than you look,” Rafe grunted, setting me down at the bottom. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
“Thanks for that.”
“Come on,” Nikki said, pushing on the door that led into the basement hallway. She took us to a waiting area filled with people, where we huddled in a corner to hear Nikki’s report.
“Harding’s not dying from cancer,” she said quietly. “His lymphoma is in remission.”
“Then why is he here?” I asked.
“According to his chart,” Nikki said, “Harding has multiple contusions, abrasions-”
“In English, Nikki,” I said. “The condensed version.”
“He’s in a coma.”
“A coma? From what?”
Nikki shrugged. “There’s nothing in the file about how he came to be in that condition, only what his condition is-severe trauma to his head, a crack in his skull, concussion, cuts, bruises, frostbite on his hands and face… Right now, he’s at high risk for dying.”
“When I saw Harding,” I said, “his eyes were open. Was he in a coma then?”
“Yes. That’s actually a common occurrence. The eyes are open, but we don’t know if the person actually sees anything.”
“Here’s what I want to know,” I said. “If Harding pulls through, will he be released or stay on for further cancer treatment?”
