Midnight. The front door of the Fair Oaks Assisted Living Facility was locked. Through the glass Mary Bliss could see a large middle-aged black man. He was asleep, with his chins resting on his gray uniformed chest.
She rapped on the glass. He jumped up, startled, stared at her as if she’d just been beamed down there by an alien life force.
“I need to see Mrs. McGowan,” Mary Bliss called. “It’s a family emergency.”
He walked over to the doors and continued to stare at her.
“Let me in,” Mary Bliss insisted. “It’s an emergency.”
He wavered, then unbolted the doors and opened them. “Everybody’s sleeping. Visiting hours aren’t until morning,” he said.
She brushed right past him. “I told you, this is an emergency. Anyway, she hardly sleeps at all these days. I’m sure she’s still awake.”
The security guard trailed after her, past the abandoned nursing station, past an aide who was coming out of one of the rooms, ’til finally, she paused outside Eula’s room.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Mary Bliss said, opening the door.
The room was dark and quiet, not what she expected. Even when she was sleeping, Eula left the television on and the overhead light blazing. That way, she said, she could see who was stealing from her.
Mary Bliss felt in the dark for the light switch. The overhead light snapped on. The room was empty. Eula’s wheelchair was empty. Her bed was unmade, the covers shoved to one side. The television had been turned off.
“She’s gone,” Mary Bliss told the security guard, who stood there, openmouthed, his hand on his holster, which held only a two-way radio. “Call somebody,” Mary Bliss said loudly. “My mother-in-law is missing.”
The guard switched on his two-way radio and Mary Bliss followed him back to the nursing station. “Hello,” she called, until a night shift nurse she didn’t recognize emerged from a supply closet.
“Mrs. Eula McGowan,” Mary Bliss said, a little breathlessly. “My mother-in-law. She’s not in her room. I’m very concerned.”
“Let me call the supervisor,” the nurse said. Mary Bliss stood by the station and drummed her fingers on the countertop until the nursing supervisor came hurrying down the hallway toward them.
“Mrs. McGowan?” she said when she got closer. This was a woman Mary Bliss had seen before. She was tall and thin with strangely colored red hair. Her name badge identified her as Mrs. Shoemaker.
“I’m Mary Bliss McGowan. I came looking for my mother-in-law. We’ve got sort of a family emergency. But she’s not in her room.”
“We’ve been trying to call you for the past hour,” the woman said, a note of reproach in her voice. “But we kept getting a busy signal. Mrs. McGowan’s doctor was in this afternoon. Her blood pressure had dropped noticeably, and her heartbeat was irregular. She was complaining of dizziness and chest pain. The doctor ordered a new medication on Friday; we think maybe she’s had some kind of reaction to it.”
The gin, Mary Bliss thought. Eula had been mixing martinis with whatever medication she’d been given.
The nurse was talking rapidly, her face flushed. “We sent your mother-in-law over to Piedmont Hospital’s emergency room, not thirty minutes ago.”
“It’s that bad?” Mary Bliss asked. “Is she conscious?”
“She was highly agitated,” the woman said. “At one point, she pulled out the IV the doctor had ordered. So she’s been sedated. You’ll have to speak to her doctor if you want any more information than that.”
The nurse stood back and watched to see Mary Bliss’s reaction.
“Are you talking about Dr. Hansen? Dick Hansen?” Mary Bliss asked. “Her regular doctor?”
“No,” the nurse said. “This was Dr. Katz. Sheri Katz. She was on call this weekend. I can give you her beeper number. We called the service and let her know we were sending your mother over there.”
“Mother-in-law,” Mary Bliss automatically corrected her. The nurse wrote down the number. Mary Bliss tucked it in her pocket and said a quick prayer that this would not be Eula’s time. Not yet. Then she went back to Eula’s room.
She’d gotten very good at ransacking, she thought, as she opened drawers and cupboards. Eula’s room was much neater, an easier job. She searched under the stacks of cotton nightgowns, thrust her hand into the cartons of adult diapers on the floor of Eula’s closet, opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, looking for something.
She plunged without guilt into Eula’s pocketbook. Her billfold held an expired Georgia driver’s license, her social security card, a Kroger discount card, and a dog-eared snapshot of Parker. There was a key ring, an address book, a checkbook, and a package of tissues. Mary Bliss checked every page of the address book but found nothing out of the ordinary.
On a shelf under the windowsill, Mary Bliss went through the half dozen books stacked there. A Bible—untouched, Mary Bliss noted. Two Eugenia Price paperback novels. A paperback book about prescription medications. The last book was one of inspirational poetry by a Methodist minister’s wife. Mary Bliss riffled the pages until something fell out.
She picked it up and looked. A thin rubber band–wrapped package of postcards. All the scenes appeared to be of tropical beaches. Florida beaches. She turned them over and recognized Parker’s handwriting immediately.
“Hope all is well at home. Weather wonderful.” All were signed “Your loving son.”
There were four of them. The postmarks were from Fernandina Beach, Cocoa Beach, Orlando, and Fort Lauderdale. The most recent card had been mailed nearly three weeks earlier.
Mary Bliss put the books back on the shelf and walked quickly back to the nursing station. Luckily, Mrs. Shoemaker was still there, checking something on the computer monitor there.
“Mrs. Shoemaker,” Mary Bliss said, willing herself to be calm. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to reach me tonight. As I’ve said, we’ve had another family emergency. I was wondering, who else did you call tonight? To notify family about Mrs. McGowan’s transfer to the hospital? Doesn’t somebody have to give you permission to do that?”
Mrs. Shoemaker drew herself up indignantly. “This was a medical emergency. We sent her on the physician’s order.”
“I’m sure you were right to do so,” Mary Bliss said, trying to placate the woman. “But did you call anybody else in the family? It’s really important that I know.”
Mrs. Shoemaker allowed herself a slight smirk. Mary Bliss decided to let it go. For weeks now, Eula had been telling everyone within earshot that Parker was definitely alive—even though his widow had supposedly “buried” him in June.
“Did Eula give you another family member’s name?” Mary Bliss repeated.
“Mrs. McGowan did give us a new emergency contact number two weeks ago,” Mrs. Shoemaker relented. She opened a drawer and pulled out a metal file box. She leafed through the index cards until she’d found the one she wanted and extracted it.
“Alvin Bayless,” she read. “Is that a nephew or something?”
Mary Bliss snatched the card out of her hand and ran for the door with it.
Alvin Bayless. She couldn’t believe Parker had been so obvious. Alvin was Parker’s first name, a name he hated so much, he’d had it legally changed as soon as he turned twenty-one. Bayless was Eula’s maiden name.
When she got to the car, she looked at the writing on the card. The area code was the same one she remembered from Erin’s cell phone log. She picked up the Nokia and dialed.
“Hello?” A man’s voice, not Parker’s.
“Let me speak to Parker McGowan, please,” Mary Bliss said, crossing her fingers.
“Who?” the man said. But he’d waited a beat too long. He knew who she was talking about.
“Parker McGowan,” Mary Bliss repeated. “It’s urgent that I speak to him tonight.”
“I don’t know a Parker McGowan,” the man said. “I think you must have the wrong number.”
“All right,” Mary Bliss said, deciding to play along. “How about Alvin Bayless. Is he around?”
“He’s gone,” the man said.
“When did he leave?”
“Who’s calling, please?”
“His wife,” Mary Bliss said.
“Right.” The man laughed and hung up.
Mary Bliss redialed. The phone picked up on the first ring.
“Listen, I told you he’s not here. He left an hour ago. Who is this really?”
Mary Bliss felt helpless. “It really is his wife. Don’t hang up, please. Listen. Parker’s mother, I mean, Alvin’s mother, is in the hospital. She’s very ill. She might not live out the night. His daughter has run away from home. I think she’s headed down there to see her father. Now, I have got to talk to him. Tonight. Right away.”
“Like I said, he left here an hour ago. He got a phone call. Something important, I guess, because he just took off. Without saying a word about what was going on. Of course, he never tells me anything, anyway.”
“Where does he live?” Mary Bliss asked, crossing her fingers.
“You’re his wife, you tell me,” the man said, laughing at his own joke.
This time it was Mary Bliss’s turn to hang up.
She was headed for the Amoco station near the interstate when she saw a red light blinking on the dashboard.
“No,” she said, pounding the steering wheel. “I fixed you up last week. No more red lights.”
The light kept on blinking. Was it the one telling her she needed more coolant? Or more oil? She couldn’t remember which. Maybe somebody at the gas station could help. As she was pulling into the station, her heart sank. The old gas station office, which had for years housed two homely but competent attendants, both of whom were named Buddy, now featured a minimart convenience store, a cappuccino counter, and a Burger King.
But no Buddys.
Erin’s cell phone rang. Mary Bliss snatched it up, praying it was news about Erin.
“Mary Bliss?” It was Matt. “I’m still at your place. The nursing home called right after you left. Your mother-in-law is in the hospital…”
“I know,” Mary Bliss said. “Is there any more news? Has Erin called?”
“No,” Matt said. “Listen, I really think you should reconsider driving down to the Keys by yourself. That car of yours is on its last legs. The tires are bald and it’s burning oil. Not to mention the air conditioning. Come on back here. We’ll take my Explorer. And I swear, I won’t turn it into a manhunt for Parker. We’ll find Erin and bring her home. That’s it.”
Should she tell him about Parker? While she considered, Mary Bliss looked over at the dashboard again. A second blinking red light had joined the first. It was like the car had a nervous twitch.
“If you break down in Hahira, you’ll never find her,” Matt pointed out.
“All right,” she said. “You can come. But I’m driving first shift.”
“Pick me up at your place,” he said.