Connection, page 17
His grin was huge, though cautious, as he reviewed the life changing phone call.
****
“Hello?” he said, answering his cell phone, surprised it had rung rather than his house phone. Skylar called for him in the background, the boy anxious to finish their video game marathon.
“Matt, it’s Detective Cowan.”
“Yeah, Grace. How are you?”
“I’m ecstatic. Are you sitting down?”
****
It was a damn good thing the kitchen chair had been nearby, or he would have fallen, for sure. He couldn’t believe his ears when Grace told him that Julie had been found, alive. He had immediately started to tremble, afraid to believe those precious words. Stupidly, he said, “But, we had a memorial service for her.” He could still hear the woman’s laugh in his ear.
Uncertain about what Julie’s condition might be, he didn’t want to risk exposing his son to something unpleasant. He had quickly arranged for Skylar to stay with Mrs. Huxby, next door, and then rushed to the hospital.
Unable to sit still, he rose from his chair, only then noticing Joan sitting next to the redheaded kid from the coffeehouse where he and Remmy had met a few times. He saw that Joan had noticed him, as well. She hurried over to him and clasped him in a tight embrace.
“Oh, Matt,” Joan said, squeezing tighter. “I’m so happy for you!”
He pressed his face against the neck of a woman who was a veritable stranger to him. “Thank you,” he murmured. It felt good for someone else to know, too, and for them to be just as excited as he was. Hell, it felt good to be hugged. They parted, and Matt grinned down at her. “How is she?” he asked, referring to Remmy. Grace hadn’t given him any details, just that Remmy had been hurt. He was surprised to see tears well up in Joan’s eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said, a hand moving up to her mouth. “She was shot. They rushed her into surgery.” With a shrug, she sighed. “We’re not sure.”
“She’s a hero, Joan. She really is.”
Joan nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. She is.”
“Mr. Wilson?”
Matt turned toward the admitting nurse and she gestured for him to come over. “Let me know how Remmy is.” He squeezed Joan’s hand then went over to the information desk, his face expectant.
“Your sister’s been moved from Emergency to the fourth floor, where she’s in with a psychologist. They said she’d be finished in about fifteen minutes, so why don’t you go on up. Go to the nurses’ station on that floor, and they can direct you from there.”
“Thank you so much.” He leaned over and gave the blushing nurse a kiss on the cheek. Matt was a blur as he hurried to the bank of elevators. The motor couldn’t go fast enough for him as he kept his eyes riveted on the numbers that lit up at every floor. The car stopped on the third floor and he nearly growled at the woman who stepped aboard. Finally they lurched upward again, and the doors slid open on the fourth floor with a cheerful ding.
Matt looked around, trying to locate the nurses’ station. When finally he found it, he waited impatiently for the nurse behind the desk to get off the phone. She cradled the receiver and looked at him expectantly.
“I’m Matt Wilson. I’m here to see my sister, Julie Wilson.”
“Ah, yes,” the plump nurse said, with the same sympathetic smile as the nurse downstairs. “Dr. Corregan is still in with her, but if you go straight down that hall, she’s in room 431, on the left.”
“Thanks.” Matt was off like a shot, looking at each numbered door until he came to the right room. He nearly fell to his knees when he heard Julie’s voice just on the other side of the closed door. Bringing a hand up, he cleared his throat before knocking. The talking subsided and the sound of footsteps approached the door. When it opened, a tall brunette stood on the other side, looking very professional and officious in her green skirt suit. She smiled politely then turned back toward the room.
“I’ll call you and we’ll make an appointment for this week, Julie. Okay?”
“Thanks, Dr. Corregan,” a quiet voice replied.
Knowing that his reunion with his sister was only seconds away, Matt let his excitement grow. Dr. Haley Corregan excused herself as she squeezed past him. Matt pushed the door the rest of the way open, not even noticing as it slowly swung shut behind him. The hospital room was dim, the lights turned off except for the reading light on the wall above the head of the narrow bed. The small, extremely thin figure on the bed was resting against the stacked pillows. She wore a hospital gown and booties.
Julie’s eyes lifted at hearing someone enter as Dr. Corregan was leaving. She gasped, unable to get off the bed fast enough. Matt caught her in his arms, holding her painfully tightly to his body. She let out a sob, and so did he.
Matt buried his face in her hair, her fingers claw-like as they wrapped around his shoulder. She was so tiny. “Oh God, Julie,” he whispered, voice breaking. He heard her sniffle as she clasped him tighter. “I thought I lost you.”
Eyes closed, Julie was unable to speak as she absorbed the feel of her brother—his warmth and familiar scent. Finally he pulled back, eyes red-rimmed, face wet with his own tears. His eyes devoured her as he held onto her shoulders. She smiled weakly up at him, pushing his ever-shaggy bangs out of his eyes. He smiled at the familiar gesture—she was always telling him he needed a haircut.
“You’re so thin,” he said. The thin gown dwarfed her already petite frame. “Are you okay?” he asked, hugging her again before he placed a kiss on top of her head, then helped her climb back onto the bed and tucked her in.
“I’ll live,” she said, her voice still raw from screaming and crying.
“Yeah, you will.” Matt smiled, holding her hand securely in his. “You’re so strong.” He studied her, not sure whether or not he should ask. He should probably speak to Dr. Corregan first.
“Where’s Skylar?”
“He’s at home with Mrs. Huxby. I wasn’t sure what I’d find,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “He doesn’t know yet.” He grinned. “Figured you could surprise him when we bring you home.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The body on the porch had been bagged and loaded into the ME’s van, and Grace and the backup officers entered the house. There was no need to protect the crime scene, Grace just wanted to see what hell Julie had been living in, and if Remmy was right in her other visions.
She was careful not to step in the trail of blood left by the gunman, who they still had not identified. It was curious, his collections of things. She fingered a few, simply glanced at others. She turned down the hall, noting that only one bedroom was being used as a bedroom. The blood spots on the sheet seemed to pool up toward the pillows still stacked against the headboard.
Grace had to smirk to herself—every male present had groaned when they discovered the extent of the man’s injuries. The bleeding was profuse. She wondered how long it would have taken him to die if she hadn’t shot him. She grimaced when she saw a puddle of blood, already congealing, and some flesh at the center of it.
“Jesus,” she muttered, moving out of the bedroom and back toward the living room, bypassing it and heading into what proved to be the kitchen. Dirty dishes were stacked neatly in the sink, though it looked as though they’d been rinsed and were ready to be loaded into the dishwasher.
“What’s up with all the magnets?” one of the officers asked. Grace shook her head, clueless.
Continuing on, she found a set of wooden stairs that led down to a basement. She held her breath, gun still in her hand should she need it. Remmy repeatedly told her that Julie and the others were being kept in a space that looked like a basement. The victims hadn’t been found upstairs, so if they were there at all, this would likely be the place.
The basement was very dark, the one light bulb at the center of the room doing little to chase away the shadows. Grace felt a little creeped out, like she was down there going after Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs. The room they were in didn’t seem out of the ordinary: boxes neatly stacked, normal storage. She looked at the two doors off to the left. An officer ducked his head into one.
“Laundry room,” he said, leaving the door open.
They all focused on the remaining door. Grace waited patiently for one of the officers to open it then they all stepped inside the second room. It was much like the first, just smaller.
“Fe, fi, fo, fum,” an officer muttered, indicating the smaller door at the far end of the room. They chuckled, which helped to break the tension.
Grace felt her stomach tighten, her instincts screaming out at her, though not trying to warn her of danger. She walked over to the door, hand reaching out for the knob. It squeaked slightly as she turned it, the door sticking as it was pushed open. A horrendous stench wafted out to the officers.
“Jesus.”
Grace ignored the smell, bringing up her flashlight to reach through the deep darkness.
“There’s a light bulb chain right above the door,” a woman said from within, startling everyone.
Grace’s heart rate picked up as she stepped inside the room and shone her beam up, looking around for the chain. She reached up and felt the stickiness of a spider web, which she had to shake off, as she was terrified of the eight-legged bastards, then finally grabbed the cool chain. Tugging gently, the room was suddenly awash in dim light.
“Jesus,” the officer said again as he stepped inside behind Grace. His eyes were huge as he studied the two women who were chained to the wall. Both women were naked, one extremely thin, the other... “That’s Cameron Sanchez!”
“And that’s Pam Beecham,” Grace whispered, wishing so badly that she could reach out and squeeze Remmy until it hurt. “I cannot fucking believe it. She did it.”
****
The monitors beeped constantly, allowing the surgeon to keep track of the status of his patient’s vital signs. The incision on Remmy’s back was being retracted by two surgical nurses so he could probe for the bullet. X-rays had shown it was lodged inside the spleen. It took more than two hours of painstaking searching to find it, and then another hour to remove it. The spleen would have to be removed as well.
“Adjust that light over here, Carl,” the doctor said, words slightly muffled by his surgical mask. Everyone watched with breath held as, with a clink, the slug was dropped into a stainless steel pan.
****
Joan had nodded off in the waiting room while watching a re-run of a nighttime drama on the television mounted in the corner. There had been no news on Remmy’s condition. It had been a long afternoon, which was swiftly turning to evening.
She was roused by two people racing into the ER—a couple, both looking to be in their late thirties or early forties, the woman near hysterics. They hurried directly to the nurse at the information desk. Joan was unable to hear their conversation, but the couple looked familiar to her. She gasped as she realized she had seen them on TV. They were the parents of the missing girl, Cameron Sanchez.
“What the hell?” she said, sitting up a little straighter. Her gaze was drawn once more to the sliding doors when a large group entered, cameras on shoulders, microphones ready to be thrust into faces. Joan rolled her eyes. “Son-of-a-bitch. Vultures.”
The doors to the ER were pushed open and a man in scrubs walked out. He spotted Joan and headed her way. “You’re waiting for word on Remmy Foster, right?” he asked.
Joan immediately stood, nodding. “How is she?”
The press got wind of their conversation and soon they were surrounded. “Please!” the doctor said, obviously irritated. “Hospital personnel will give you a full report.” The surgeon grabbed Joan’s arm and led her back through the ER doors, where the media wasn’t allowed. “Vultures,” he muttered, not seeing Joan’s grin. He led her to an empty part of the hallway and stopped. “The bullet lodged in her spleen, which I had to remove to stop the bleeding. She lost a great deal of blood, but she’s doing great. She’s in ICU right now. You can go see her.”
Joan sighed, long and loud. “Thank you, Doctor.”
With a kind smile, he told her how to get to the ICU, then walked down the hall and disappeared through a door.
Joan blew out a breath and headed in the direction he had indicated. Roman had gone home with his family some time ago, promising to return later. Once she saw Remmy, she would call his cell and let him know how she was doing. Doug was out running errands and she wished to God he was home. She needed him.
With every step she took down the long, highly-polished hallway, Joan felt guilt creeping over her. She’d believed Remmy possessed some sort of ability, but to what degree, she honestly hadn’t known. There was a hardened, cynical part of her that had wondered—for a moment—if it was all just a show. After all, Remmy was a drifter. Maybe this was the game she played everywhere, leaving when things got too hot. Now, heading toward the nurses’ station on the ICU floor, she felt like an asshole. She supposed she was just glad she’d never gotten a chance to have that conversation with Remmy about the job.
The ICU rooms were glassed-in cubicles set up in an octagonal shape around the nurses’ station, so patients could be observed at all times. Joan was given directions to Remmy’s room. It was dark, the shade drawn on the window and the overhead light turned off. Remmy’s pale profile had an eerie green hue from the screens of the machines around her. Her long body was covered by a thin, white blanket. She was laid out on her stomach, her right arm curled up by her face, the left dangling near the edge of the mattress. An I.V. was taped into place on the top of her right hand. Her eyes were closed, the skin around them very bruised.
“Oh, Remmy,” Joan whispered, taking the pale left hand in her own. She caressed the back of her hand with her thumb, eyes never leaving Remmy’s face. She wished those beautiful blue eyes would open, but they remained closed. Joan’s gaze swept over the rest of her body. A thick bandage and wrapping had been applied to her back. The hospital gown Remmy wore was tied loosely for easy access.
A nurse entered, clipboard in hand. She began to write down Remmy’s vitals.
“How long will she be in here?” Joan asked, her voice church-quiet.
“Probably just tonight,” the nurse said. “The doctor wanted to make sure all her vitals stay within range. She’ll probably be moved to a regular room tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Be there for a few days.”
Joan nodded, smiling her thanks. With one last glance at Remmy, she leaned down and placed a soft kiss on the cool forehead, then left, digging her cell phone out of her purse as she left the ICU.
Chapter Twenty-four
“In a remarkable turn of events, psychic Remmy Foster led police to the house behind me, where Sergio Venti had apparently been collecting women. Pamela Beecham, missing for two years, was found handcuffed in a dungeon-like room, as was Cameron Sanchez, who had recently been abducted from her bedroom in the early hours of October 27. Julie Wilson, a teacher here in Woodland, and missing for nearly three months, was the first—”
Matt turned off the television and grabbed his keys. “Skylar!” he called out, heading toward the garage door, Bonnie and Clyde running and barking alongside him. He squatted to pet the dogs, smiling at the fact that their mommy was about to come home. “Come on!” he called again, rolling his eyes. Skylar was worse than any woman when it came to getting him motivated to go anywhere.
Soon enough, the tromping of feet could be heard overhead, the trail easy to follow as they ran down the hall, turned left at the landing, then finally pounded down the staircase.
“I’m ready, Dad!” the boy hollered, continuing his marathon until he reached the garage door and father. He had his Gameboy in hand.
Matt shook his head. The boy never ceased to amuse him. They said their good-byes to the whining dogs, then Matt grabbed the duffle bag he had packed the night before and got Skylar and then himself into the car. Matt navigated the snowy streets with ease, glancing over at Skylar every so often, having to hide the smile that quirked his lips. He hadn’t wanted to leave Julie there, at the hospital, but he’d had no choice. When he left, he shared the elevator with Dr. Haley Corregan.
“Be patient with her, Matt,” she’d advised. “Know that no matter what she says or does, it’s not personal. This isn’t about you, it’s about her, and her fear. She will struggle with trust issues. Let her ease back into her life at her own pace. Just be there for her.”
Matt found the psychologist beautiful, but quickly noted the simple gold band on her ring finger. Well, there goes that thought.
The hospital parking lot was busy, as usual, but Matt found them a space. He glanced over at Skylar, who was looking around in total confusion.
“This isn’t McDonald’s,” he grumbled, looking over at his dad for an explanation.
“Nope.” Matt grinned. “This is better. Come on, Skylar, and leave your Gameboy in the car.”
Father and son walked through the halls of Saint Mercy’s to the elevators. On the fourth floor, Matt led Skylar to room 431.
“Who are we here to see?” Skylar asked, big eyes scanning the rooms on either side of the hall. He had only been in a hospital once before, and that was when his friend Dillon had broken his leg by falling out of a tree.
“Someone very special,” Matt said, stopping in front of Julie’s room. He pushed the door open and Skylar followed him inside.
The room was well lit, the blinds over the window open, showing the rooftop of a lower wing of the hospital and the blue sky beyond. Julie sat on the bed, dressed in some scrubs the nurse had brought her that morning. She was freshly showered—her third since last night—and waiting. She had been told Matt would arrive by ten a.m., and it was seven ’til.
