His Other Wife Page 10

  She clamped Seth’s arm with fingers as cold as stone. “I’m freaking out. I’m really messed up. I’m so scared.” He felt her shaking. “I looked down, Seth. I…I shouldn’t have.”

  “Laura, look at me,” he said, keeping his words even, knowing they were both in trouble. “Don’t panic.”

  “I…I can’t help it.”

  “Laura. You can’t look down again. You have to look at me.”

  “It’s cracking, Seth. The rock I’m standing on. I don’t have any place to —”

  “Grab this branch, Laura. You’re almost to the top. Think where to plant your foot. Now. Move.”

  “Seth. Please. Don’t let me fall.”

  “I —” But she was right. Her footing was shifting, breaking away. Her half of the ledge had vanished. He watched in horror while the last of it shattered. He wasn’t a hundred percent, oh no, not by a long shot. He tripped over his feet, sort of stumbled against the rock when he tried to reach her.

  Overhead the stars shot from their circles and spread like a maze across the sky.

  Later Seth would wonder if there’d been a second when she hung in the air like the characters did on the Saturday cartoons — Wile E. Coyote frozen in time, his eyes round and horrified — before he plummeted. Seth grabbed for her wrists and came up with air.

  Seconds passed as he tried to make sense of what had happened. The sound of something sliding below him along the face of the cliff. Stones scattering along the rock face like pearls escaping from a string. Somewhere in the bottomless distance Emily started to scream.

  Chapter 10

  Hilary hadn’t wanted a shift at the hospital during the graduation festivities, but she’d agreed to take this one. It seemed like every time she wanted off, they had unstable patients and nurses out sick. Guess it made sense, didn’t it? A hospital. Always in some state of emergency.

  In the wee hours of the morning, halfway through her nursing shift in the PCU, they’d paged her to help out in OB. Even if OB/GYN hadn’t been short-staffed tonight, they would have been shorthanded. Three women had delivered babies in a forty-five-minute span, and one had been a nineteen-year-old without any family support.

  “They’d better start taking advance reservations on those birthing rooms,” Gina Minor said wryly as Hilary finished up her paperwork at the PCU station. “I hear they’ve got two more couples practicing Lamaze in the lobby.”

  “What was going on nine months ago today?” the charge nurse asked.

  “Don’t want to know,” Hilary said, adjusting the stethoscope at her neck and waving them good-bye.

  Every time a baby appeared at Englewood General, the intercom played a lullaby, and during the past hour it had sounded three times. No matter where a person happened to be in the hospital, you could hear the birth song. Whenever the melody repeated itself someone would laugh and say, “Boy, they’re really pushing them out now, aren’t they?” You could be stanching blood or administering electric shock or setting a broken bone. You could be administering a catheter or holding clamps for a surgeon or sitting with a family as someone died. The strains of Brahms’s Lullaby would play and you’d breathe a sigh of relief. You’d think, New life. Whoever else might be dying; whatever else might be falling apart. New life.

  Hilary had already read the young woman’s Kardex. The girl had asked for help feeding her baby. Hilary knocked on the door to announce her presence and the girl lifted her face. “Hi.”

  “You ready to try?” Hilary asked after she’d introduced herself and admired the baby.

  “I — I don’t know.” And as Hilary scanned the girl’s features, she recognized the same expression she always found on a new mother’s face: astonished, a little starstruck.

  “You’re going to do just fine. You’re going to love it.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “A little,” Hilary said. “Not right at first, but later.” And Hilary thought how she might be talking about so much more than the subject at hand. “You’ll be a little tender. But there are tricks to make it better. I promise you, once you get started, it’s one of the easiest things you’ll ever do. And it will be so good for this little munchkin here.” She grinned at the newborn.

  Ten minutes later the young woman sat against the pillows, beaming. The baby nursed with a tiny hand fisted in his mother’s hair. Hilary’s pager sounded. She made sure the girl could reach her call button before she gave the A-OK sign with her fingers and backed away. You’re doing a good job, she mouthed as she passed through the door.

  After Laura had fallen, after Emily had screamed, Seth had scrambled down to see what he’d done. He hadn’t searched for footholds or where to place his hands. He’d grabbed the next root and propelled himself down, daring gravity to make him fall, too. When he’d reached the bottom, he’d pushed his way through the group, trying to get to Laura. Nobody stopped him, which surprised him. No one grabbed his arm and shouted, You did this! You stay away!

  He shouldered his way through the kids who were closest to the center of the circle. There he saw Emily swaying beside Laura, folded across the girl’s torso, protecting her friend. The eerie sound coming from Emily’s throat could have been the cry of the wind, the keening of an Illinois snowstorm along the lakeshore.

  Emily rocked back on her heels, holding Laura’s head in her lap. When Seth saw Laura, his stomach revolted. One leg folded sideways at an impossible angle. Her head fell backward against Laura’s knee. Leaves, brush, and blood tangled her hair.

  “Should you be touching her?” someone asked Emily.

  “I don’t care,” Emily said.

  Laura’s face had gone gray as the moon. Her breath came in horrible rasping gasps, one deep, then two, three that could scarcely be heard.

  After Seth saw Laura, he elbowed his way through the other kids and started to run. He thrashed through the black underbrush, tripping over fallen logs and shoving branches out of his way. He ran and could hear nothing except the sound of his labored breathing, the crack of the world breaking beneath his feet. He saw nothing but the net of tree limbs descending on him below the pale arc of moon. He didn’t slow until he thought his heart would explode. He didn’t stop until his lungs caught fire.

  Even then, even before he pulled up, Seth knew he had to go back. The police would be there and they would be searching for him. But he waited with his chest heaving, letting the pain engulf him. He dragged his hand roughly across his chin, didn’t know whether it was tears or blood, didn’t care.

  Night sounds sprang to life around him, the owl’s hollow call, something with glowing eyes scurrying beneath a stone. The specter wail of sirens coming closer.

  “Hilary Myers?” Her small pager sprang to life. Hilary lifted the small electronic device where it clipped to her scrubs and pressed the button. “What’s up?”

  “Hilary?”

  It was Gina. Hearing her voice again was a jolt. Instead, Hilary had been expecting the charge nurse asking her to return to PCU. She didn’t know why, but Gina’s voice sounded knot tight. “Gina? Are you okay?”

  “We’ve got something coming in.”

  “They need me back up there? Are you going to ER? Do you need to gown up? I’m on my way.”

  “We’ve got something coming in that you need to know about, Hilary.”

  “Oh.” A beat. Then, “What have we got?”

  “Couple of minutes out.”

  “Injury?”

  Until this moment, it hadn’t registered that anything might be personal. “A girl. Multiple crush injuries, open fractures, puncture wound in torso.”

  Hilary stood rooted to the spot. “A teenage girl?”

  “It’s a fall injury.” Then, “Some accident that happened at some big outdoor party.”

  “Some party?” Hilary repeated, trying to get her mind around it. But there could be hundreds of big outdoor parties in Cook County tonight, couldn’t there? Couldn’t there?

  From somewhere in another
world, a cart rattled past, its test tubes tinkling like chimes. An alarm sounded on a distant heart monitor. A light blinked over a patient’s door. “It’s a girl?” Thank you, God. It’s nothing to do with Seth. It’s not.

  “They haven’t officially ID’d her yet.”

  “But do you know who it is?”

  “Julie got me on my cell. Chase called her before the EMTs had even gotten there. Dirk left right away to pick up some of the other kids and drive them home.”

  From the way Gina rushed past Hilary’s question, there was something she wasn’t telling; she was testing to see what Hilary knew. “Gina? Is my son okay?”

  Silence.

  “Gina? What is it? What’s wrong? What does Seth have to do with any of this?”

  At her friend’s hesitation, the sound started in Hilary’s head like a keening wind. All she could hear was the roar. She was drowning; her head kept going under.

  “Why don’t you come up to the ER before the ambulance gets here,” Gina said. “It’s best if you hear this from me.”

  Case Number: IL 05/29/3462

  Incident: Consumption of Alcohol by a Minor (MUI), Willful Trespass

  Reporting Officer: Lt. J. Meehan

  Date of Report: May 29

  At about 0230 hours on 29th May, I was dispatched to a recreation site where a group of teens had been camping without adult supervision. Many of the girls were crying. Upon arrival, I came upon the unconscious victim, white female, age 17. I immediately requested medical rescue and an ID unit to respond for photos of the victim’s injuries. One teen was performing CPR on victim. I aided volunteer. Victim began breathing on her own.

  Paramedics not able to get girl to regain consciousness. Still working to stabilize victim en route. ID Unit C-190 on scene to take photos of injury and scene. After ambulance transported victim, I asked what had happened, if there were any witnesses, and how long ago had it occurred. They said that it had just happened, fifteen minutes before I arrived. I immediately requested a description of “Seth” and placed a BOLO to all units in area.

  Described as white male 6' tall, weighing about 165, with short brown hair. He had on a long-sleeve hooded sweatshirt and blue jeans. Witness advised that they didn’t think male had left the scene. Backup Rescue Unit 25 arrived; Lt. McCullough searched for “Seth.”

  Cordoned area obviously a campsite. Trash was full of bottles and cans. Witnesses appeared to have been drinking heavily. Parents arrived but were advised no custody of their children until Breathalyzer tests complete.

  Note: All involved in incident are under-aged. Most at scene ID’d, written up, and released on own recognizance. Eighteen-year-olds transported to jail via police van.

  Detective John Taylor, Unit 109 from felony crime section, notified of the incident. Before legal adults transported, “Seth” questioned by detective. A copy of the report is being forwarded to him for further investigative follow-up and disposition of the case.

  Hilary wondered. Were there parents who imagined this feeling before it happened? Did they prepare themselves in some way for this news in the night?

  Did they pray as they listened to the officer’s voice on the other end of the telephone, describing the incident, listing the details without emotion? Did they imagine how their ears would buzz, how the adrenaline would settle into their fingers as they tried to make sense of what was being said? Did they know they wouldn’t be able to find their car keys in the nurse’s bag, that they would struggle with the arms of a sweater, trying to put it on?

  When she’d been a girl at the state fair, she used to beg her parents for carnival tickets. Her father had to pay money for her stomach to be pitching this way. Like nothing was beneath her for a thousand miles. Like the bottom had dropped out and everything inside her was going with it. At the same time Hilary’s insides were riding the Kamikaze, she heard herself at the graduation picnic, reassuring Abigail Moore: They’re responsible kids. They know how to take care of each other. I asked plenty of questions, believe me.

  She shouldn’t be driving. Gina had offered to take her, but Hilary had gotten away too fast. She’d been wrong not to take her friend up on the offer. In spite of the arcing headlights, the painted lines along the shoulder, Hilary couldn’t see the road.

  Hilary replayed what had happened at the hospital as she’d been running to her car, frantic to get to Seth, to help him. The ambulance pulling up, the Moore family tumbling out at the same time. Abigail crying over and over, It isn’t Laura; it’s not. Abigail shrieking as the paramedics unloaded the stretcher and she barely recognized Laura. Abigail retching and sick in the parking lot. Abigail blocking Hilary’s way, staring at her with pure hatred. Look what your son did to my daughter. Look what he’s done. If she dies, it’s going to be on his head.

  Hilary had already been flying toward the jail before she thought she ought to phone Eric. Any other weekend, he would have been across the country instead of at a hotel near the Loop. This was the type of emergency that, had it happened the past few years, she would have dealt with solo. This was the type of thing Eric had left her to take care of alone.

  Of course it was being discussed now, all over town. The kids were texting. Jefferson High parents were clustered blearily around kitchen counters everywhere, squinting into the unwelcome overhead light, hanging on to mugs of fresh-brewed coffee as if they could hang on to the innocence their children had lost since yesterday.

  Beyond the pools of streetlights, beyond the early-morning trash truck that was beeping and lifting a trash receptacle on its rusty arms, the sky was still onyx dark. She pulled to the side of the road and sorted through the business cards she’d never bothered to clean out of her purse. She found the card, its edges frayed because she’d been carrying it so long. And she could still read the name: Roundtree, Gates, and Mulligan, Attorneys-at-Law. She dialed this number first.

  She made her second call, this one to Eric. After several rings, Eric’s phone switched to voice mail.

  You’ve reached the voice mail of Eric Wynn, financial advisor with Stearns, Madison, and Levy. I’ll return your call as soon as possible. If the call is time sensitive or you’d like to buy or sell holdings, contact my assistant Mary Woods at…”

  Up until now, Hilary hadn’t given any thought to how she would tell Eric what had happened, let alone what to say in twenty seconds or less. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. No list of events in sequential order. No details of Laura Moore.

  “Hello? Call me when you get this. Please.” She hated herself for being this honest. She hated herself for the many times she’d longed to say the same words before. She hated herself because it was a one-sided conversation and somehow that made it easier to be intimate. “Eric. Seth and I need you.”

  Chapter 11

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  When Seth had returned to the campsite, gasping for breath and exhausted, he found Laura gone and the clearing cordoned off. Every police car, and there had to be at least seven of them, had a spotlight trained on a different area of the campground. A detective approached him the moment Seth stepped into the light. “Do you mind answering a few questions for us, son? Would you consent to that?”

  Here I am, Seth had almost said. No need talking to anyone else. I can tell you anything you need to know.

  The guy’s badge read: Detective John Taylor, Unit 109. Felony Crime Division. “What kind of questions?” Seth asked.

  “General information. You know. Name. Age. You tell us what you witnessed here tonight.”

  “I don’t know if I should,” he said, doubtful. “I’m Seth.”

  “Have you been drinking at this party?” the officer asked. “Can you tell me where you were earlier? Why didn’t you stay with your friends? Where were you going just now? Did you see her fall?”

  It didn’t matter, really. Seth knew he deserved everything that would happen to him after he told the truth. He would deserve the condemning glares of his friends. He would deserve the cold bi
te of the handcuffs and the shove into the police car. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to anyone about this,” he said.

  “So you’re Seth, huh?” John Taylor held up two fingers and asked Seth to follow the fingers with his eyes. He jotted a note on his report. “I’m required to give you a BAC test. Do you know what that is? A Breathalyzer?”

  Seth shrugged. “I know what it is.” And it surprised him, but after he blew into a straw and Taylor recorded the results there wasn’t a special armed unit waiting to take Seth in. They loaded him into the police van with the others.

  He lost track of his classmates during the endless wait in the holding cell before they called his name, the assembly-line search to make sure he wasn’t bringing in weapons, the threadbare uniform pressed within an inch of its life that they thrust into his hands. He went through all that before a precinct officer about as big around as the John Hancock Building told him his lawyer was on the phone.

  “I don’t have a lawyer. I don’t want one,” Seth said.

  “You expect me to feel sorry for you, kid?” the massive man said. “You’ve got somebody looking out after you. Deal with it.”

  Seth jammed the ancient phone receiver against his head like it was a wall he could knock his head against. “Hello,” he said, his voice a low growl. He had no idea who he’d be talking to.

  John Mulligan introduced himself and the conversation went downhill from there.

  “I don’t have to talk to you, do I? You’re just a crook out to get my parents’ money.”

  “You’ll talk to me if you have an ounce of sense in your head,” the voice growled back. “I’m a friend of your mom’s, did you know that? Do you know she hired me?”

  But if the guy thought that would make it better, he was wrong. “I don’t have anything to say.”