Nick hadn’t been back home long when the telephone rang. Wearily, he picked it up. “Hello?”
“Nick?” The voice was weak, and he recognized it to be Stan’s.
“Stan, is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, uh…something happened tonight.”
“Yeah. Celia wasn’t at Aunt Aggie’s when I went to tell her to call you, and then I went over to Jill’s and I was there when she got the call that Celia had been caught in your room.”
“Yeah.” His voice cracked, and Nick could tell that he was struggling with emotion. “Uh…look man. I could use some help tonight.”
Nick swallowed. “Sure. I’ll do anything, Stan, just tell me what you need.”
“Do you think you could come over to the hospital? Pay me a little ministerial visit?”
“Of course. I can leave right now.”
“That’d be great.” His voice cracked, and the silence was eloquent. “I’d appreciate that, man.”
“Stan, are you all right?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Is there anything I can bring you?”
Stan was quiet again. When he finally found a word, it was wrought with emotion. “Hope?”
Nick’s heart sank. Once again, he was being asked to give something he didn’t possess. “I’ll do what I can, buddy,” he said. “I’ll be right over.”
Stan’s parents had come back to the hospital by the time Nick got there at 10:30, and his mother had red patches under her eyes, as if she’d been weeping as hard as she’d ever wept in her life. She clucked over him like a mother hen, arranging his pillows and straightening his covers, while his father paced the room back and forth with simmering anger so intense that Nick could almost see it smoking out his ears.
Stan looked weaker than Nick had expected. Dark shadows lurked under his red-rimmed, puffy eyes, and Nick imagined that he had been weeping, as Nick himself would have done had he been betrayed in such a colossal way.
“How ya doin’, man?” he said, shaking his friend’s hand.
Stan’s eyes immediately filled with tears again. “Mom, Dad, would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with Nick?”
His mother wiped at her own eyes. “Of course. We’ll be in the waiting room if you need us.”
He waited as they both left the room. Nick got a chair and pulled it up to the side of the bed, sat down, and leaned forward. “Her visit…was it traumatic for you?”
Again, Stan’s eyes filled. “Actually, it was nice. It was right after I’d talked to you on the phone. I hung up and closed my eyes and was waiting to hear back, and there she was, with this silly wig on, and glasses, and a nurse’s uniform—” His voice cracked, and he covered his face with both hands.
“What happened?” Nick whispered.
“She got caught,” Stan forced out. “And then they found arsenic in my IV bag.”
“Arsenic?” Nick asked. “There was arsenic in your IV?”
“Somebody put it there,” he said. “And I’d swear to you it was the orderly that came in while I was on the phone with you. Only, I can’t identify him. He had a surgical mask over his face, and he had on glasses and a surgical cap. Why would he come in like that, if he wasn’t trying to make sure I couldn’t ID him? Said he had a cold. But no one believes me. They think I’m covering for her.”
“What do you think, Stan?” Nick asked.
Stan looked up at the ceiling. “Nick, I would lay my hand on a Bible and swear to you that my wife did not do this. But—”
That “but” was heavy and set itself down between them like a big lead box. “But?” Nick asked.
“But the picture.” His mouth twisted, and he covered it with the back of his wrist.
“What picture?” Nick asked.
“The picture of her with that man. That Lee Barnett. The convict.”
Nick frowned. “Wait a minute. She was with him?”
“Seems that way,” Stan said. “Vern followed her. Took pictures.”
Nick was stunned, and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Finally, he managed to whisper, “I can’t believe it.”
“I saw the picture myself.” He covered his eyes with the heels of his hands and balled his fingers into fists. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, but it’s suspicious.”
“But…the orderly. What about the orderly?”
“The hospital staff swears that everyone on shift has been accounted for, and that none of them changed the bag. But I know he was here. I saw him change it. Who was that and why does he want me dead?”
Nick searched his heart and all of his wisdom for an answer that would satisfy Stan, but he had too many questions himself. He looked helplessly at his friend, and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, buddy. I don’t know what to do for you.”
Stan kept the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. “Tell me that my wife doesn’t want me dead,” he said. “Tell me that the baby she’s carrying isn’t going to suffer.”
“Baby?” Nick sat erect. “Stan, you didn’t tell me—”
“She just told me,” he cried.
Nick groped for the right words, but could find none. For the thousandth time since this case had begun, he sought the wisdom of the Holy Spirit, but he still felt inadequate, useless.
“I can pray for you, Stan,” Nick said, wiping his own tears. “That’s all I know to do. Just pray.”
“That’s enough.”
Nick touched his shoulder and began to pray, for answers to their questions, for peace, for truth, for healing, for restoration, for reconciliation. When the amen came, he saw that Stan was calmer. Stan removed his hands from his face and looked at him.
Nick’s heart broke. His own face twisted, and he rubbed at his jaw. “I’ve got to be honest with you, Stan. I don’t know what to do for her…but I know that she is still a member of my flock. Whether she’s innocent or guilty, she needs God. And she needs friends.”
“I don’t know if there’s some dark room in her brain that holds some deadly secret,” Stan said, “but even if she did poison me, Nick, even if she poisoned Nathan…” His voice broke and his face twisted. “Even if she did those things, I still can’t stand the thought of her sitting in jail alone…”
Nick nodded, knowing that feeling himself. “I’ll go to her tonight, Stan. She may just be a lost sheep in my flock. Jesus would have searched high and low for her…for the one lost sheep. If she did this, there’s something wrong here, Stan. Some mental illness, or something that can be explained. Or she could be totally innocent, in which case she really needs a friend.”
“Help her, Nick.”
Nick nodded. “I will. I’ll go see her when I leave here, if they’ll let me.”
“And keep praying,” Stan said.
“I’ll keep praying,” Nick promised. “It’s all I can do. It’s all I have.” Nick wiped his eyes. “If there were a fire, I’d put it out. If there were a heart attack, I know CPR. If there were a wreck, I’d use the jaws of life. For a thing like this, I just pray.”
“That’s better than CPR or the jaws of life. You’re doing fine, Nick.”
Nick swallowed back his own emotion as he got to his feet. “Get some rest, okay? Try not to think. I’ll talk to you tomorrow and let you know how my visit with Celia went.”
“All right, Nick. Thanks.”
Nick hated to leave him, but Stan’s parents returned to the room as soon as he stepped into the hall. He got onto the elevator, let the doors close, and stood there for a long moment before pushing a button. Silently, he prayed for the power and wisdom to do the right thing.
Of its own accord, the elevator began to move, down, down, down, until the doors opened on the lobby, where someone waited to get on. He stepped off, realizing that God was telling him to move, take action, get going…
He headed out to his car to do something, hoping that it was the right thing.