I still felt smothered when I sat in my car, keys dangling in the ignition, and tried to make sense of things.
One thing was clear. Reena was furious. At Wendy, at her mother, at me, at herself. That rage could not be self-contained. It had to go somewhere.
Was that what happened eight years ago? She exploded and ran Laura Lee down? Was she the woman who maneuvered Mike Martinez to steal a car for her?
I wouldn’t have banked on her doing that kind of advanced planning, but I also wouldn’t have bet she’d be able to fake a coma for a week, either. She had a lot more willpower than I’d have credited her.
It was after midnight now. Too late to call Mrs. Schuster. It was possible to call Wendy, but Reena was not about to break out of St. Joe’s and murder her tonight.
I brushed my hair back from my temples and laid my forehead on the steering wheel. I would call the police first thing in the morning.
There was just one thing nagging at me. I couldn’t quite formulate it, but uneasiness sat in the pit of my stomach.
I turned on the ignition. The Ford Focus’s engine turned over. I began to nudge my way out of my space, checking the rear view mirror as I reversed. Péloquin Street was otherwise deserted. Reena’s voice beat in my ears.
She hadn’t seemed depressed to me. If I’d met her on the street, I would have said "pissed off" or "crazy." But maybe there was some black hole at the centre of it. I didn’t understand. I never would.
I shifted back to drive and signaled my way out of the space, shoulder-checking, even though no one was there.
Reena’s frantic, furious voice raged on.
I’ll show her ass.
I swerved into Péloquin and stopped at the light. My pager went off, so I clicked on it to see a different, extension, but not OB and not psych. I rolled my eyes. Who was Tucker play-acting now? I’d call him when I got home. After I took a shower and washed all the Reena off.
Reena. Off.
Reena. Offed.
The light turned green. A truck rumbled up behind me, but I stayed still.
I don't give a flying fuck about myself.
The truck honked.
Everyone has to go. Everyone has something to do. Even me!
Oh, shit. I screeched a right turn on to Côte-Ste-Catherine.
I had to get back to the hospital right now.
I pulled into the same parking spot, dashed into the hospital, and sprinted up the five flights like it was a code.
A tiny Asian nurse wheeling a BP machine spotted me at the end of the hallway. I ignored her and ducked into Reena’s room, banging it open with the flat of my hand.
The nurse called, "Wait. What about—"
I screamed.
Reena was hanging from the curtain rod.