Ten
Sam Hazzard arrived shortly after Rebecca had fallen back to sleep.
“Don’t wake her. She really needs her rest,” Grace said. “Isn’t it good I’m here to help her?”
“Has she signed the codicil?”
“Not yet. I assumed you’d need to be a witness. Little old me could hardly act as such, especially when I’m a patient.”
“Yes. That’s right. How do you find your accommodations?”
“Lovely. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been playing my ukulele, just for myself, you understand.”
“Keep it quiet. You don’t want to disturb the other patients.”
“I love the view out this window. Where does that path lead? To another cottage I can’t see?”
He stood near her to look out the window, his hand dropping lightly on her shoulder. “Let’s see. That path would take you to the staff boat. It’s a good hike, but of course Dr. Hazzard and I believe in hikes, invigorating air, the scent of cedar and fir and the deep, earthy loam of the forest floor.” He kneaded her shoulder as he spoke.
“I might just take a walk there later if it’s so lovely.”
“I’d be happy to show you.”
“You would? Oh how grand. But first I’m due for my clyster syringe treatment. I’ll see how I feel about hiking after that.”
“Dr. Hazzard may not be able to perform that treatment today,” Sam said. “She has an embalming and autopsy to attend to. But let’s plan for tomorrow, shall we? Say at 10:00 a.m.? Oh, and here are the red pills Dr. Hazzard prescribed for you. I’ll watch while you swallow. She requires a witness to pills taken here at the sanatorium. Good professional practices.”
They had to leave this evening. She knew it. Waiting until tomorrow would only bring more pain for Rebecca. She knew where the path was now to the boat and hopefully, prayerfully, Rebecca would be strong enough to make the walk. She’d half carry her if need be. Dr. Hazzard was busy with the embalming and Sam had their “hike” in the morning to look forward to. Grace shivered in disgust. How different a touch could feel when one trusted and cared for the one doing the touching. And she did care for Claude. Maybe she should have told him where she was and that she’d become Dr. Hazzard’s patient at the sanatorium. He’d find out soon enough if Rebecca told him when she was brought to the lab. Maybe she should just go tell him herself.
No! What was she thinking. Her heart raced and she could feel blood pounding at her temples. Her stomach fluttered inside and she drank more water that sloshed in her stomach, it was so empty. Sam had made her drink four large glasses of water to take the pills. He insisted she take the green ones as well. What’s in those things? She didn’t know. It didn’t matter. What did matter is that he had also forced Rebecca awake and pushed the reddish pill down her throat as though she were a horse being treated by the vet at one of the ranches. She nearly gagged, but the water washed it down and she lay exhausted back on the bed.
“That should help her decide about the codicil,” he said.
Grace wondered if Rebecca would even remember.
“Mrs. Holmes? It’s time for your visit to the lab.” This was a fair-haired nurse dressed in a blue-striped uniform wearing a white apron and cap.
Maybe I should get that kind of uniform. I could just walk Rebecca right out of here. Where would she find such attire?
“All right.” Rebecca rose as the nurse helped her plop into a wheelchair. However would they get her upstairs? She had to be able to walk.
Grace started to follow her out, but the nurse stopped her. “Just Rebecca right now. I’m sure your turn will come if Dr. Hazzard has made the referral to Dr. Millikan.”
Referral? What kind of a referral would be needed? Did she say referral or removal? Was Rebecca being removed to another room? Thoughts like hummingbirds lit and flitted away. She felt a humming in her chest as her heart raced, then slowed.
Uniform. She would find the kitchen. The staff rooms must be near there. She went down the hall trying to smell cooking. She couldn’t. Well, of course there wouldn’t be cooking smells. Oh, that bathroom door, the door she was going to check but didn’t have time for. They likely locked the kitchen up so no patients would steal food. She walked back inside, trying to find the wing the bathroom had been in. Near Dr. Hazzard’s office, wasn’t it? She made her way, found the door, but Dr. Hazzard’s door opened as well. She slipped inside the bathroom with just a crack open to hear what was happening in the hall.
“We’ll keep the body until the sister passes, then bury them both. No sense stirring up trouble with the estate until both are gone.”
“Yes. Perhaps we can hasten that?”
“If necessary. We’ll decide when I get back from Seattle. We’ve two new patients coming in. I want to be ready.”
They walked past the door Grace hid behind and she was certain now they could hear her heart beating. Instead of checking the door or seeking out the nurse’s uniform, she rushed back to the room where she’d found Dora that morning.
“Dora! Dora! We’ve got to get you out of here. Tonight. You must be strong tonight!”
“I can’t leave Claire. Nanny will come, save us. Have you seen Claire?” Her pathetic eyes begged for help, yet she was too weakened, too confused to accept it.
“Not today.” Should she tell her? No, while Claire lived in her mind, Dora continued to cling to life herself, she still had hope. Grace would get Rebecca out and then with the authorities they would rescue Dora and bring justice to the Hazzards. It was all she could do. Getting one weakened woman into a boat would be all she could manage.
Stars lit the April evening, the air holding a chill like a wet shawl around them. Grace pushed the wheelchair slowly down the hall, grimacing with one squeaky wheel. Bong! Grace thought she’d jump out of her skin. The clock! Every sound felt magnified; every creak a potential threat.
Only soft moans broke the ticking of the large clock in the lobby–living area. Rebecca’s head lolled to the side. She was even more tired after seeing Claude, wasn’t she? Maybe it was the exertion of the stairs. Grace saw no evidence of an elevator like ones she’d seen in Chicago. That was probably it, fatigue from climbing the stairs. She’d managed to feed her a few more fingers full of rice and had consumed two of the bags herself. She noticed that her head felt light as a soufflé when she stood up too quickly. The pills? Or just weakness, lacking eggs or meat. Just a few more feet and they’d be outside. She stepped in front of the chair to open the door onto the back porch. The ramp extended from the right side; the path to the boat formed at the left. She’d have to push her across cobbled stones until reaching the path and then, if it was too slick or narrow, she would have to lift Rebecca and pull her along, praying she could hold her up until they reached the boat.
There might have been a moon, but the treetops were a guillotine to the light Grace desperately needed when she realized the chair would be a hindrance to their escape. They hadn’t gotten far when Grace touched Rebecca’s shoulder and whispered, “You have to stand now. Can you do that? I’ll help you.”
“Are you sure it’s all right?”
“I’m certain. Come along. Your Caroline is waiting and all your friends who love you and want you back as the lovely woman you are. Come along now.”
Rebecca stood, wobbled, sat back down. Grace pulled her up again.
Like a death march, Grace lifted her friend, then dragged Rebecca forward slow step by step. She caught a glimpse of the water, then it disappeared as they made their way around a rock outcropping, pushed back ferns licking at their arms. Her heart pounded with the effort, her breath a gasp.
“Are you sure Dr. Hazzard won’t mind?”
“I am,” Grace said. Oh how she wished she could comfort her friend.
“I’m not.”
A man’s voice. Sam! Grace’s heart moved into her throat.
“Sam! What are you—”
“Going for a midnight walk, are we?”
“Yes. I—”
“You’re going nowhere, little miss interfering friend, except with me. Both of you.”
Grace started to flee, hoping she could get help, but he grabbed her arm, grabbed Rebecca’s too, lifted Rebecca at the waist she was so slender.
“You are coming with me to a very special little room, just for patients who are out of control.”
He dragged them back, his height and strength overpowering their feminine frames. Inside the sanatorium he pushed them into the bathroom with the unknown door. He pressed himself against Grace, the smell of sweat and alcohol strong. She couldn’t move.
“Much as I’d like to stay here, little missy, I have work to do.”
He threw her aside and she fell against Rebecca, who had collapsed against the bathroom tub. He opened the door with a key, and before Grace could right herself from the tangle of crinoline and skirt, he yanked her and threw her into the darkened room. Rebecca was tossed in beside her. He slammed the door shut and turned the key.
She never should have tried to do this on her own. She should have made sure the boat was there and that Sam wasn’t. She should have told Claude, left a letter with William telling him what? Something, some sort of backup plan. What would Sam do with them? Had he gone to get Dr. Hazzard? Then Rebecca appeared to come awake. She couldn’t see her friend’s eyes but could hear her breathing as it quickened.
“It’s so very dark. So small. Where are we? Who’s with me?”
“It’s me, Grace. I’m with you. You’re not alone.”
“It’s so small. I can’t breathe.”
It was as black as the inside of a cow’s stomach. She was hungry enough to eat an entire piece of tripe by herself. She laughed out loud. So inappropriate!
“Grace? Where are we? What are we doing here? Where’s Dr. Hazzard? Grace?” She began clawing at Grace’s arm, put a fist to Grace’s chest. “What’s happening! Have I died? It’s so dark.”
“It’s going to be all right. We are not alone here. God knows where we are.”
“Where is God? Why isn’t he turning on lights? I can’t stand the dark like this. I—” She clawed at Grace’s hair.
“Here, let’s see if we can find out how large the room is, if there is another door.” Grace moved to pat the wall, count paces until the corner, but she only reached the first corner before she felt Rebecca fly at her from behind, yank her neck.
“Get me out! Get me out of here!”
Grace knew she had to calm her friend and her words were not doing it. She did what she knew to do: she began to sing, grasping Rebecca’s hands in hers. First lullabies, then hymns, then little ditties from children’s songs she knew. She held her friend now, arms clasped around her shoulders, and she sang softly, but then decided that was silly. Why not sing loudly. Why not wake up the entire sanatorium. Someone would find them, someone other than Sam Hazzard maybe. A nurse who would at least let them out and ask what they were doing there. The cook, up early to juice the tomatoes, maybe. She’d wonder what they were doing in a closet. An empty closet. Not even a broom to bash against the door. Anyone could find them. They’d be safe enough until Grace could escape and tell Claude to come with her, now that the Hazzards planned to hasten the death of Dora Williamson if need be. He simply had to remove himself from whatever it was he was doing. The lives of these patients came first.
She sang more loudly as Rebecca calmed and even joined her at one point, and then she heard the key turn and Sam Hazzard’s face backlit in the single bulb hanging in the bathroom.
“Shut up!” he shouted. “Do you want to wake the entire hospital?”
“Yes!”
Her “yes” was a duet with Claude’s “yes,” his cello voice a burst of joy sent from heaven as Sam turned to face him.
“What are you doing here, Millikan? And who’s that? The constable?”
“One might ask the same of you. I know of no treatment that puts innocent patients in a darkened room to scare them out of their wits.”
“I’ll control them, then, right out of here. Come along, ladies. Constable, I think you can arrest for kidnapping to begin with.”
The uniformed man grabbed Sam Hazzard.
“You can’t take them. They have fees to pay. Dr. Hazzard will be back in the morning. We can discuss their release then.”
“They are released, into my care.”
“You’re a mere pharmacist,” Sam sneered.
“And a physician and a Pinkerton detective sent to gather evidence, my good man. These two are witnesses. I think we’ve just hit the mother lode. And you, sir, are under arrest.”