Flare, page 21
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” I dazzle her again, again with no results. I pull out my phone. “Damn, my phone is dead.”
“I left mine in the car,” Donny says.
“Isn’t that convenient,” Genevieve says dryly.
“Well, we can help you,” Mercy says. “The Steel Foundation gives us a large grant every year.”
“And we’re happy to do it,” I say.
“Yes, my father was treated at this hospital not long ago,” Donny adds.
Mercy taps on her computer. “It looks like Mr. Lamone is visiting the patient in room 3520.” She frowns. “That’s our mental health wing.”
“I know,” I say, feigning no surprise at all. “He’s beside himself about this.”
“That’s why we’re here to support him,” Donny agrees. “He’s been running himself ragged.”
“The two of you are good friends.” Mercy smiles.
“That’s confidential information,” Genevieve says.
“Genevieve, this is the Steel family. They fund this hospital.”
Genevieve rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’m not going down with you.”
“No one is going down,” I say. “We promise. We’ll tell Pat how great you’ve been. And our family. All of our family.”
“How nice of you,” Mercy says. “Get on up there and be with your friend.”
“Thank you.” Donny dazzles once more.
“Yes, we won’t forget this.” My turn to dazzle.
Then we turn and head for the elevators. Once we get to the elevators, Donny starts laughing.
“Yeah, it’s kind of funny, except that we just made that poor woman breach her ethics.”
“I know. And damn, I hate breaching ethics. But our name. Our fucking name. I’ve seen it time and again. This name can work miracles. And it makes me wonder, again and again. Why? How the hell did we get here? We sure as hell did not get here raising beef.”
“Well… There are apples and peaches. Wine.”
“Yes, I know. And you’re right, our esteemed grandfather probably got into tech when it was new and innovative. Still…there’s something we’re not seeing.” He punches the elevator button.
“I know.” I sigh. “What the hell could it be?”
“We’re going to have to find out,” Donny says, “and I have the sinking feeling that once we do? We’re going to wish we never started looking.”
A feeling of impending doom washes over me.
“This is wrong,” I say. “So wrong.”
“It’s all kinds of wrong, dude.”
“You’re engaged. You’re settling down with the woman of your dreams. Everything should be going great for you. You’re the city attorney of Snow Creek. And me? Damn. I’m in love. For the first time in my life, I’m in love with the most beautiful woman in the freaking town. She loves me back, Don. She fucking loves me back. It’s amazing, the feeling. The overwhelming elation of being in love, but it’s tainted. Tainted by this whole fucking mess.”
The elevator dings, and the door opens.
Donny meets my gaze. “I suppose we don’t have to do this.”
I walk into the elevator, turn, and regard him. “We have to do this, cuz. We absolutely have to.”
He follows me into the elevator, and the doors close. Donny hits the button for the third floor.
“You’re right. We have to do this. We have to fucking do this.”
The elevator jolts but then ascends slowly.
“Man, we need better elevators here. What if someone has to get to the OR quickly?”
“These aren’t the OR elevators,” Donny says.
“Yeah. Of course not.”
My mind is awash with crap. I’m not sure what I’m even thinking at this moment.
Finally, we make it to the third floor.
“What do we do when we get there?” I ask as we step off the elevator.
“We don’t have to do anything. All we need to do is get the name of the person he’s visiting. We can figure out why later.”
“Right.”
“What was the room number again?” Donny asks.
“3520.” I check the sign on the wall. “We go this way,” I say, heading right.
Donnie and I walk down the hallway, smile at the nurses sitting at the station.
One of them smiles back, and the others don’t look up from what they’re doing.
“Security here is great,” I say with sarcasm.
“That’s in our favor for now. We can make sure they increase security later. When we no longer need this.”
“Yeah, right.”
3504, 3506, 3508…
We walk, slowly, past all the rooms.
3512, 3514, 3516…
One more room to go, and then we’ll hit 3520, near the end of the hallway.
I stop.
Donny turns, meets my gaze. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just…”
“I know. We’re about to find out one more fact. One more thing that won’t make any sense. Believe me, I get it.”
“What if it does make sense? What if there’s some family member—one of our family members—in there, completely neurotic or psychotic or another kind of mess?”
“Then we’ll deal with it. We already know we have mental illness in the family.”
“Except…” Dare I say what I’m thinking?
“I know.” Donny nods. “Dale and I aren’t related to the rest of you by blood. But we also have a father who sold us out for five grand. Maybe he wasn’t technically insane, but he wasn’t a good man.”
“I hate thinking of it in those terms. You’re my cousin, man. Blood doesn’t matter to me.”
“Doesn’t matter to me either, but I get what you’re saying. Whatever bad genes the Steel family carries, Dale and I don’t have them.”
“Neither does Henry,” I say.
“Yeah, but Henry comes straight from Uncle Bryce, and we know all about his father. If that wasn’t a psychopath, then what is?”
He’s right, of course.
No discrimination here. We are all equally fucked.
“Here we are,” I say. “Room 3520.”
The door is closed, and although there is a window looking from the hallway into the room, the blinds are closed as well.
“He’s in there,” Donny says.
“He is.”
The name on the door says “Smith.”
“So the relative’s name is Smith,” I say.
“Yeah,” Donny says, “and I’ve got some swampland in Florida I’d like to sell you.”
“What do we do now?”
A nurse walks briskly by then. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
“We’re just waiting for our friend. Visiting Mr. Smith.”
“You mean Mrs. Smith.”
“Right, of course.” I flash my smile.
“Would you like to go in? I can check with him for you.”
“Oh no, we’ll just wait for him at the end of the hall. We don’t want to interrupt his visit.”
I follow Donny to the end of the hallway, where there’s a small sitting area. We each take a seat in uncomfortable olive-green chairs.
“Now what?” I ask.
“We wait for him to come out of the room. Or we wait to get a text from Rory or Callie. Whichever comes first.”
“But it’s getting late. It’s almost seven p.m. Aren’t visiting hours over?”
“Hell if I know,” he says.
“Okay, then,” I say. “I guess we wait.”
Chapter Forty-One
Rory
Callie and I head back up to the waiting area, and I hand Maddie her Diet Coke.
“Took you long enough,” Maddie says.
“Sorry,” I say, “Callie and I needed to… I don’t know.”
“It’s all right, Rory,” Mom says. “We all deal in our own way.”
Callie and I sit down with Mom, Jesse, and Maddie.
“Any news?” Callie asks.
“Nothing in a while,” Mom says. “But—” She jerks as a woman in scrubs comes out and heads straight toward us.
I swallow, but it doesn’t dislodge the lump in my throat.
“Mrs. Pike,” the woman says.
“Yes?” Mom doesn’t stand.
But Jesse does. “I’m Jesse Pike, and you are?”
“I’m Dr. Alonso, the resident on your father’s case. The attending cardio thoracic surgeon sent me out with an update. Your father has been moved onto the heart-lung machine now.”
“And what does that mean exactly?” Jesse asks.
“It’s actually called a cardiopulmonary bypass machine,” Dr. Alonso says. “It works to provide blood and oxygen to the body when the heart is stopped for a surgical procedure.”
“In English please,” Jesse says again.
“I’m sorry, let me try to explain better. I know you’re all upset and worried. Your father has significant blockage in his coronary arteries, so the surgeon needs to redirect the blood to the heart—in other words, bypass.”
“We understand,” Callie says.
“In order to do the procedure, the heart has to stop while the surgeon is making those bypasses.”
My mother goes white. “His heart is stopped?”
“Yes, but it’s no cause for concern, ma’am. The heart-lung machine is directing blood and oxygen to his body while his heart is stopped.”
“Oh, God,” Mom says. “I just can’t deal with this.”
“Ma’am, your husband is doing very well.”
“You just said his heart is stopped.”
“Yes, so we can make the repairs. So we can redirect the blood flow.”
I stand then. “Doctor, you’re talking to a scared wife and scared children. Is our father okay?”
“Well, your father is on the operating table, and he’s on the cardiopulmonary bypass machine. But the surgery is going well.”
I sigh. “I understand. That’s all we’re going to get out of you.”
“She can’t say anything else,” Callie says. “No doctor can guarantee a successful outcome. That would be a malpractice nightmare.”
“This is not bad news,” Dr. Alonso says.
I nod. “Thank you, Doctor.” I sit back down.
“I need to get back to the OR. I’ll update you again as soon as I can.” Dr. Alonso leaves.
“She was just a breath of fresh air, wasn’t she?” Jesse says dryly.
“She needs a few lessons in bedside manner,” I agree.
“She’s a resident,” Callie says. “Probably first or second year. She doesn’t know any better.”
“Well, she should,” I say. “Especially when a person’s husband and a person’s father has his chest open on a table.”
“Rory…”
“I mean it, Callie. Maybe you can compartmentalize, but I can’t. I’m worried about this and about so many other things. The least that woman could’ve done is come out here and smile.”
“I agree,” Jesse says. “She was awful.”
“I agree too.” From Maddie. “I don’t want her touching our father.”
“You guys,” Callie says, “she’s probably very qualified. I mean, come on. Do you want the most qualified doctor? Or do you want the doctor who’s the nicest?”
Classic Callie.
“Fine,” Jesse says. “She’d better be damned good.”
I say nothing.
I sit in my chair, watch my sister drink her lukewarm Diet Coke, and try not to let my mind wander.
Which is a surefire recipe for it to do just that.
It wanders first, of course, to my father—who I love, who understands me more than anyone—lying on a table with his chest wide open and his heart stopped.
It wanders to Brock, who I also love, and who’s probably still out in the ER waiting area. Or maybe he and Donny left, or maybe—
My mind wanders then to Pat Lamone, who’s somewhere in this hospital. Brock and Donny are probably investigating, and—
My mind wanders to the trouble they could be getting into. I don’t trust Pat Lamone, and the hospital has security.
Next my mind wanders to everything else going on with my family and with Brock’s family. It’s all too much.
And then it wanders to where I was only hours ago, on the side of the road, sobbing my heart out over a baby that never even existed.
That seems so ridiculous now when my father’s life is at stake.
It was always ridiculous, with everything else that’s going on.
I close my eyes, try to concentrate. My family’s not religious, but I feel like I should be praying or asking the universe to protect my father.
I need him so much. Someone in the room who understands me.
Thank you. Thank you for Brock. Thank you for everything you’ve given me in this life.
But you’ve taken a lot from us too, so please… Please don’t take away my father.
Chapter Forty-Two
Brock
Half an hour elapses.
I quickly text Rory to see how her dad is doing. She texts back that he’s on the heart-lung machine, and the doctor says everything is going well.
Good.
Another half hour elapses. I text Rory again. No additional news.
She doesn’t ask where I am, and I don’t tell her. She needs to concentrate on her father right now.
One more half hour, and just as I’m about to text Rory to check in—
Pat Lamone walks out of the room. He doesn’t look toward this end of the hallway where Brock and I are sitting. He walks the other way, toward the elevators.
He stops at the nurses’ station, stands there for a bit.
“Who is in that room?” Donny whispers to me.
“I don’t know. But we’re going to find out.”
Donny and I keep our heads down, only looking up when necessary, to see if Pat is still at the nurses’ station. Finally, we look up and he’s gone.
“It’s now or never,” Donny says.
“This is the mental health wing,” I say. “We can’t just walk into that room. Whoever is in there might freak out.”
“You got a better idea?”
I sigh. “No, I don’t.”
“We’ll go in really quick, see who it is, and leave.”
I nod. “Okay.”
We both rise, head toward room 3520.
The nurses are busy. I reach my hand out to the door and twist the knob. Donny and I enter swiftly and quietly, shutting the door behind us.
The person in the bed appears to be asleep, thank God. I place a finger over my lips, indicating to Donny to be quiet, and I slowly approach the bed.
A woman. Her face is aged, her hair silver.
If I had to guess, I’d say she’s in her late seventies, possibly early eighties. But who knows? Mental illness can affect people strangely.
Donny looks around while I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the person on the bed.
“We have to get out of here,” I say to Donny.
“Yes. We do.”
We walk toward the door, open it, and—
“What the hell do you think you’re doing in there?” A uniformed security guard stands next to the door.
“Honest mistake,” I say.
“Yes,” Donny says. He holds out his hand. “I’m Donovan Steel.”
“Do I look like I care who you are?” the guard says.
“I’m Brock Steel.” I hold out my hand as well. “From the Steel family. Our family funds this hospital.”
“And you think that gives you the right to go skulking around in people’s rooms?”
“As my cousin said”—I move my hand back down to my side, since he clearly has no intention of shaking it—“it was an honest mistake. My mother, Dr. Melanie Carmichael Steel, is a retired psychiatrist. She used to have privileges here. Our foundation is thinking about offering to expand the mental health wing of this hospital, so my cousin and I were here looking around.”
“At this hour?”
“A friend of ours is in surgery having a triple bypass,” Donny says. “My future father-in-law, actually. Since Brock and I were here, we figured why not have a look?”
Finally, the guard seems to soften. “I’m sorry to hear about your future father-in-law. Is his prognosis good?”
“For now,” Donny says.
“What exactly were you doing in a patient’s room, though?” the guard asks.
“Like I said, honest mistake,” Donny says. “We thought we heard screaming, but it must’ve been coming from somewhere else.”
“You thought you heard screaming coming from this room?”
“Yes,” I back Donny up. “But the patient in that room is asleep, so we were mistaken.”
“We’ll be going,” Donny says.
I smile. “Yes. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We just thought that because we were here, we could have a look around. Maybe give some information to my mother and the rest of the foundation.”
The security guard doesn’t look convinced, but he finally nods. “All right. Looks like you weren’t up to anything nefarious. Sorry to bother you, but the next time you decide to look around the hospital, let the nurses’ station know.”
“Absolutely,” Donny says. “We’re really sorry for neglecting to take that step. It’s just… We’re very worried about my future father-in-law. We weren’t thinking clearly.”
“I understand,” the guard says and turns, but then he turns back toward us. “Your future father-in-law’s name is?”
“Frank Pike,” Donny says.
“Thank you so much,” I say, holding my hand out again.
This time the guard takes it. “No harm done.”
Donny shakes his hand as well, and then we head to the elevator.
Once on the elevator, I heave out a sigh. “That was freaking close.”
“Yeah. Too close for comfort. I can’t believe you took a picture.”
I absently slide my hand over my pocket where my phone is. “Yeah, that did take some balls. But you know me. Balls of steel.”
“Ha,” Donny says, not even close to laughing.
“I’m not sure it’ll do us any good, but we know this much at least. Whoever this person is, I’d bet her name is not Mrs. Smith.”
