You Can Run... (9 page)

Dr. Evans hesitated a moment before he said, “Calling your uncle won’t be necessary. I believe you. I also understand you not wanting to interrogate her, but we need to know more about Mrs. Conley and Willow. There are medical questions we must find answers to.”

“I know Penny is in critical condition, but is there something wrong with Willow that you haven’t told me?” Diana asked in quick anxiety.

“Willow is all right, unless the tests show something a routine examination didn’t reveal. I’d like to have a more thorough history of her than I do, though. The child can’t tell us much. Actually, she’s giving me little more than ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers right now. She keeps muttering about something she calls ‘sparkle bugs.’ ”

Diana smiled. “That’s what Willow calls lightning bugs. She likes to collect them in a jar and give them to her mother.”

“Yes, she did say something about her mommy needing sparkle bugs. Of course, she has asked for her mother. And a few times she’s mumbled ‘bad’ or ‘badge.’ Do you know what she means?”

Diana was quiet for a moment then said, “No. What happened was horrible, but to a five-year-old child, she might describe it as
bad.
As for
badge
. . . .” Diana casther mind’s eye over thoughts that felt like ragged, old playing cards. “Police officers came to the scene. Willow might be referring to their badges.”

“That’s what I thought.” He frowned. “I have an idea, Ms. Sheridan. Because you know so little about her family connections, I think we should fingerprint both Willow and her mother. I believe one of Mrs. Conley’s hands was not burned.” Diana winced inwardly. Only one of Penny’s small, amazingly dexterous hands remained undamaged. “If the police have the fingerprints, perhaps they can locate records that would tell us more and help us to find relatives. Is that all right with you?”

Diana felt a rush of relief. “I know you’re just being polite. You don’t need my permission for the fingerprinting, but I think it’s a great idea. Even though Penny didn’t mention family, I can’t believe she and Willow are completely alone in the world except for my great-uncle and me. At least, I hope they aren’t—it would be too sad.” Diana felt her throat growing tight. “Do anything you think might help them, Dr. Evans. Anything . . .”

“I will.” He put his hand over hers. “And so will everyone else here at the hospital.”

The doctor started to rise and Diana blurted out, “I want to see Willow!” She blushed and lowered her voice. “I mean, may I see Willow? She’s so young and alone without her mother. I know you’re taking good care of her, but I just need to see that she’s all right. Then I can call Uncle Simon
and comfort him a bit. He’s so terribly upset.
I’m
so terribly upset. . . .”

Diana looked into the doctor’s eyes and saw that he was trying to make a decision. Finally he nodded. “I think that might help the child. She’s young and she’s terrified. Seeing a familiar face will probably make her feel secure.”

“I hope so,” Diana said, although she feared Willow would never feel secure again.

The earth shuddered. The scorching air roared. Someone screamed repeatedly. She shut her eyes but she could still see the red and gold tongues of fire leaping toward a velvety black sky, turning the peaceful night into an inferno. The fire inched closer—cruel, unnatural, destructive. She tried to escape but she was trapped, the hungry fire now scorching her hair, searing her clothes, blistering her skin—swiftly, voraciously, happily devouring her.

Diana awakened drawing long, raw gasps, her hands covering her face, her legs drawn up to her abdomen. She kicked viciously at something clinging and white—a shroud, she thought wildly. Once free of it, cool air gently washed over her sweat-drenched skin.

Slowly she lowered her hands, letting her gaze dart around the small, unfamiliar room. A glow from a sodium vapor lamp seeped through partially closed vertical blinds, and in the semi-dark Diana dimly saw a tiny nightstand beside her and, mounted on the wall, a dark square she somehow knew was a television.

She ran her hands over the coarse, damp sheet covering the hard mattress beneath her. The top sheet lay where she’d kicked it onto the floor. Diana flipped onto her right side and saw another twin bed. Even in the shadowy room, she could make out the short, still form beneath the sheet, and long, wavy hair spread across a pillow.

Willow.

Diana drew a deep breath. It was just a horrible dream, she thought in vast relief.
I’m not burning like Penny. I’m in the hospital watching over Willow.

A few hours earlier, if Dr. Evans had any doubts about Diana’s relationship with Willow Conley, they had vanished when Diana entered the examination room where Willow lay stiffly on a narrow bed, her eyes squeezed so tightly shut that furrows had formed in her porcelain skin. Diana had approached her slowly, leaned down, and said softly, “Willow, sweetheart, it’s Diana. I’m here.” Within seconds, the child had opened her eyes, rose up, and wrapped her arms around Diana, burying her head against Diana’s neck, babbling about fire and her mommy and begging Diana not to leave her.

Dr. Evans had looked at them thoughtfully, then he’d whispered in Diana’s right ear that if she would like, he would arrange for her to spend the night in Willow’s room. Diana had nodded vigorously and mouthed
Thank you,
almost wanting to kiss the doctor for his empathy. She knew the kindness she’d detected earlier in his gray eyes had been genuine.

Now, her heart still pounding, Diana ran her hands over the cotton hospital gown she’d been given for the night. She would have slept in her clothes, but they had felt tight and smelled of acrid smoke. She wished she’d at least changed clothes, if not showered, before coming to the hospital, but the night’s events had rattled her so much she hadn’t given a thought to the state of her slacks and blouse.

Before she’d crawled onto the narrow bed in the room with Willow, the loose hospital gown had seemed comfortable. Perspiration had turned it clammy after her nightmare, though. For an instant, she thought of slipping out of the gown and sleeping just in her bikini panties, until she remembered the damp sheet she’d thrown on the floor. She didn’t want to lie beneath it, and she couldn’t sprawl nearly naked.

Metal clinked against ceramic.

The sound came from the bathroom. In a flash, all thoughts fled from Diana’s mind, as she focused on the sound she’d just heard. She even stopped breathing. Nothing. Finally she heard a faint scrabbling sound and another clink.

Was someone quietly and carefully retrieving a metal object from the ceramic-tiled shower? The sink? The commode? Was the bathroom floor covered in ceramic tile? Diana couldn’t remember. The bathroom door was closed, the light turned off, but she distinctly remembered turning on the light and leaving the door open about six inches. Willow had been afraid to go to sleep in the dark. Diana told herself not to panic. Perhaps a nurse had simply stepped into the bathroom to . . .

To do what? Stand in the dark with the door closed?

The sound seemed innocuous, Diana thought. Then why did she feel like a tiny animal trying to evade an aggressor? What made her certain someone regretted making the two nearly inaudible noises that she heard only because she was already awake?

Diana rose silently on the bed, holding her breath again. Something was wrong. Dammit, no matter how much her uncle would scoff at her for relying on a feeling, not evidence, she knew a malevolent presence hovered near.

The door to the bathroom began to open with deliberate slowness. Swallowing the impulse to scream, Diana leaped from her bed and ran to the other, scooping up the sleeping child. Diana thought she heard something behind her, just as Willow let out a drowsy murmur of surprise. She said nothing to Willow and didn’t look back. She focused on holding the child and aimed for the door, fumbling for the handle then flinging open the heavy wooden door.

Diana burst into the hospital corridor, carrying the groggily frightened Willow, just as the sound of gunshots echoed at the opposite end of the hall. Diana had dashed from the room in such a frenzy, she plunged ahead at least eight more steps before she could stop. A female nurse
hovered near her, rigid and emitting staccato shrieks. A thin male orderly stood splayed against a wall shouting, “What’s goin’ on? What’s goin’
on
?” Two other women at the nurses’ station stood motionless for a few seconds and then ducked behind the counter. Another nurse standing in front of the counter stooped with her arms locked over her head.

Diana froze, stunned, holding the now wide-awake, terrified child. In spite of her fear, Diana became acutely aware of the chaos surrounding her, including the fact that no one stood firing a gun in the hospital hallway. The shots must be coming from a room, she thought, but why would someone enter a hospital room and let loose a hale of gunshots?

Except they weren’t gunshots. As soon as Diana had drawn a deep breath and quelled her raging fear enough to think for a moment, she realized she wasn’t hearing the shots of a gun but the popping sounds of small firecrackers. She’d heard the sound every Fourth of July since she was a child. Simon always had someone set them off at his annual Independence Day bashes.

A burly orderly ran toward a door bearing a restroom sign at the opposite end of the hall. When he opened the door, the sound grew louder and more metallic. He paused, as if taking stock of the room, then slowly entered. Diana had lost all sense of time, but glancing at the big clock on the wall across from her, she saw that two minutes passed before the popping sounds stopped.

The thin orderly remained pinned to the wall yelling, “What’s goin’ on?” The screaming female nurse kept shrieking.

Finally the orderly who had entered the restroom opened the door, leaned out of the room, and roared, “Everyone,
shut up
!” Deathly stillness immediately fell in the corridor. It lasted only seconds before a murmur of voices quickly intensified to a din.

Willow had begun to cry raggedly against Diana’s shoulder.
Diana hugged the child closer and kissed her forehead. “It’s all right, sweetie. I have you—you’re safe.”

Safe. Diana wished she could say that with confidence. She yearned for the peaceful world she’d known just hours ago. In exhausted frustration, she staggered over and leaned against a wall, her heart beating so hard she thought it would crack a rib. Willow’s crying had dulled to monotonous, hopeless whimpering. She sounded doomed, Diana thought, and no wonder. How could Willow calm down, when Diana couldn’t even control her own rising hysteria?

“It’s Black Cats!” the orderly yelled down the hall. “It’s just the firecrackers Black Cats. Someone put them in the metal waste can and lit them up. Do you understand me? They’re
harmless
! Everybody settle down. You’re not in any danger!”

Willow pulled away from Diana’s shoulder and wailed, “Somebody shot cats? Somebody killed kitty cats?”

Diana took another deep breath and tried to steady her voice. “No, honey. There are little firecrackers called Black Cats. You heard them last month at Uncle Simon’s Fourth of July party. They don’t have anything to do with kitty cats. Someone just gave the firecrackers a silly name. The firecrackers made all the noise.”

“Firecrackers?” Willow wavered disbelievingly. “No guns?”

“No guns. No hurt kitty cats. I promise. Don’t cry.”

Willow sniffled, valiantly trying to stop her tears. At a loss about what to do next, Diana looked around. She felt invisible, as nurses, orderlies, and a few patients headed toward the restroom with the firecrackers. Diana glanced back at the door to the room she and Willow were sharing. She had no desire to see the remains of firecrackers, but she wasn’t going to take Willow back into that room—where she was certain someone had lurked silently in the dark, waiting to strike at her or Willow, or both of them.

Diana began walking slowly, holding the trembling Willow tightly. Suddenly a nurse appeared in front of them.
The woman’s hands shook slightly, and her middle-aged face showed stress, but concern, too, for Diana and Willow. “Everything is all right,” she said, eyeing the sniffling Willow. “It was—”

“Firecrackers,” Diana said. “I know.”

“Yes, well, you can go back to your room. We have everything under control.”

Diana shook her head. “We can’t go back to our room.”

“Of course you can.” The nurse began trying to gently herd Diana toward the room. “It was just a prank. It gave me quite a scare, too, but everything is fine. Quit crying, honey,” she said to Willow. “There’s no reason to be scared. No reason at all—”

“We can’t go back to our room because someone is in there. Or
was
in there. Someone was hiding in the bathroom,” Diana, standing rigid, cut off the still ashen-faced nurse in the middle of another hollow reassurance.

The nurse blinked at her for a moment then tried to smile. “I think you had a dream, dear. Why would anyone be hiding in your bathroom?”

“I don’t know, but someone was,” Diana said firmly. “I did
not
dream hearing someone drop a metal object. I was wide-awake. Then the bathroom door started to open, so I grabbed Willow and ran out into the hall just as the firecrackers began exploding.”

The nurse’s color had begun to return, and one side of her mouth lifted in an attempt to smile. “You heard someone drop something in your bathroom?”

“Yes, I did.” Diana looked at the woman stonily, knowing that if she seemed even faintly unsure, the nurse would dismiss her assertion. “Someone was in our bathroom. You need to call Security or at least have a couple of orderlies search the room.”

“Someone from Security will come any minute because of the firecrackers, but—”

“Good. They can search our room. It’s five-oh-one. I want someone to go in there immediately.”

Diana felt as if the nurse was so anxious to get everything
back to normal that she wasn’t really listening. “I know your room is five-oh-one, dear. There is no reason to be snappish. I think you’re letting nerves get the best of you.”

Diana was on the verge of repeating her demand when two young nurses swept past them, talking loudly. “Who could have put firecrackers in the restroom?” one of them asked, her face flushed with excitement. “I didn’t see anybody.”