Chapter Six
AMY was in the hospital cafeteria drinking her sixth cup of coffee when the group of women in black passed by in the hall. It was eight o’clock in the morning; she knew if she didn’t lie down soon she would black out where she sat. The women caught her eye, however, and not just because of their somber dress. One of them looked like Julia’s aunt. Amy had met the woman at the memorial service for Mother Florence. She’d appeared completely unaffected by her sister’s death. Julia had kept an obvious distance from her.
Amy set down her cup and went after them. She watched as the aunt—it was definitely her, Amy decided—stopped to question a nurse. The nurse pointed in the direction of Scott’s room. The group of women had started off again when the aunt suddenly stopped and eyed Amy. The others pulled up behind her.
“Who are you?” she asked.
Amy took a halting step backward. The aunt was bone thin; the lines of her jaw moved visibly as she spoke. She was also incredibly pale, and the hard wrinkles around her eyes looked as if they’d been carved. Her age was difficult to estimate. Amy would have said she was close to seventy, except for the energy that emanated from her. She approached Amy swiftly.
“You’re Julia’s friend,” she said.
“Yes,” Amy said. The woman’s eyes were set deep, but they burned bright. Amy found it difficult not to be drawn into them.
“Where is Julia?” the aunt asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Who’s with her?”
“My boyfriend.”
“What’s his name?”
“Jim.”
“Jim what? Where does he live?”
Her eyes are hypnotizing. Look away. Look away.
Amy shook herself and glanced at the floor. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know your boyfriend’s name?”
Amy glanced up, being careful not to focus on the woman. The aunt exuded a powerful presence. Amy was reminded of Mother Florence, except here there was little warmth, no softness.
“What do you want Julia for?” Amy asked.
The old woman tilted her head to the side. One of her companions—an old bag of bones if ever there was one—whispered a few words in the aunt’s ear. The aunt nodded and briefly shut her eyes. When she reopened them, she was more relaxed, but distant. Amy found this even more disturbing.
“You were there last night when the boy was shot,” she said.
“Yes,” Amy said.
“What did Julia do?”
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t she try to stop the other boy from entering the place? The boy she is with now?”
“Yes. How do you know that? Have you talked to Julia?”
The aunt turned to her followers. They nodded grimly. “It’s important we talk to her,” the aunt said. “You know who I am?”
“Yes,” Amy said. “But I told you, I don’t know where she is.”
“I need your boyfriend’s name and number.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t give you that.”
“Look at me, child.”
“What for?”
“Look at me,” the aunt repeated firmly.
Amy looked. She didn’t want to, but she felt helpless to refuse. The aunt leaned closer, her pupils filling Amy’s field of vision. The woman’s eyes were violet, flawlessly clear, like a child’s, just born into a world without shadows. They shifted in tiny circles—there was a dreamlike quality to the motion. Amy wondered if perhaps everything else in her surroundings was moving and the woman’s eyes were the only things still. Suddenly Amy felt both reassured and confused, as if she were entering a forbidden land with someone who had been there many times before.
“Where is Julia?” the woman asked softly, rhythmically.
“She’s with Jim,” Amy heard herself say. “I don’t think they’re at his house.”
“What are they doing?”
“They’re going after the guys who shot Scott.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Julia says she can find them.”
“Why does Julia want to find them?”
“I think she wants to kill them.”
Kill Murder? Julia? No…
Amy blinked. What was she saying? The old woman was inside her head again! Amy backed up a step, pressing her butt against the wall. She raised an arm across her face. The woman remained where she was, regarding Amy thoughtfully. Her group of followers whispered darkly behind her.
“Thank you,” the aunt said. “You’ve been helpful.”
“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Amy asked anxiously.
The aunt waved her hand. “It’s no concern of yours.” She turned to leave, her followers with her. Amy stood up straight.
“Wait,” she called. “Can you help my friend?”
The aunt paused and glanced over her shoulder. “Who?”
“Scott. The one who got shot.”
Sadness touched the woman’s face. “Who?” she repeated, as if she’d heard correctly but was responding to a different question.
Amy didn’t understand, and the aunt didn’t explain. The group turned as one and headed in the direction of Scott’s room. Amy wanted to follow them but had no strength in her legs.
It was then that Randy Classick walked up to her.
“I heard what happened,” he said, giving her a hug. “I can’t believe it. Good old Scott. He was the only one in the whole goddamn school who had any brains. There’s no way I’m going to pass chemistry now.”
Randy was being ridiculous, as usual, but Amy could see he was upset. In fact, he looked as if he’d just finished crying.
Out the corner of her eye, Amy watched the women in black swoop through the double doors at the end of the hall.
Why do they want to see him?
“He’s still breathing,” Amy said hopefully. “He might wake up. The doctors say that if he regains consciousness he stands a chance.” She forced a chuckle that hurt deep inside her chest. “You don’t have to fail chemistry.”
“I hear he’s in a coma.”
“Yeah.” She sniffed. Coma—the word sounded so empty. Randy put a hand on her shoulder.
“How’re you doing, kid? You been here all night?”
She nodded. “It’s been a long night. What are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
“You do? I didn’t know that. What do you do?”
“Odds and ends. A little surgery, a little janitorial.”
“Since when?”
“Since they hired me six months ago. I was working here when we went out. Don’t you remember? I had that stethoscope. I tried to listen to your heart with it.”
“That was your hand.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, that was unprofessional of me.” Randy paused and stared down the hall at intensive care. His big shoulders sagged. “This whole thing makes me feel sick. He was just going in for something to drink and they shot him?”
“Yeah. Julia was with him.”
“I didn’t know that. Is she all right?”
Amy nodded. “Yeah. One guy shot at her but missed.”
“What kind of world do we live in? I hope Scotty wakes up.”
“Randy? There’s a group of old women dressed in black looking for Julia. Have you seen them?”
“Yeah. What do they want her for?”
“I’m not sure. One of them is her aunt, but I know Julia doesn’t like her. I think they’re trying to see Scott right now. Is there any way you could get in there and listen to what they’re saying?”
“They won’t get into intensive care unless they’re family.”
“I got in last night,” Amy said.
“Yeah? Scott’s parents must have told the nurses it was all right. But his parents have gone home. I met them in the parking lot when I came into work. That’s who I heard the news from. I don’t think you have to worry about those women hassling Scott.”
“I told you, it’s Julia I’m concerned about. I’m serious, Randy. They’re spooky. I know that aunt can get in. She has a way about her—like she can hypnotize you—I can’t really explain it. Could you go spy on her?”
“I’d have to put on a green gown and pretend I’m an orderly.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I hate wearing those things.”
“Randy!”
“The nurses on duty might recognize me.”
“They might not. Wear a bonnet. Wear a mask over your face. Do what it takes. I’ve got to know what the aunt wants Julia for.” She took his hand. “Please? You told Julia if she ever needed help, to give you a call. Well, I think she needs help now.”
“Will you go out with me if I do it?”
“Scott’s lying inside dying and you’re asking me out?”
Randy shrugged. “Scott was always for a guy getting it when he could.”
Amy hit him. “You’re disgusting! Yes, I’ll go out with you. Get your gown on. Hurry.”
Randy was gone three quarters of an hour. When he returned, he was wearing a white coat and a name tag that read “Dr. Bower, GYN-OB.” The coat was too small for him, but he looked happy in it.
“What took you so long?” Amy asked.
“I was heading to intensive care when a frantic nurse grabbed me and asked me to examine a woman in labor.”
“You’re full of it!”
“I’m not kidding.”
“What did you do?”
Randy shrugged. “Just put my hand on her belly and told her she was doing fine and that I’d be back when the baby came out.”
Amy became impatient. “Did those women get in to see Scott?”
“You were right, yeah—two of them did. They were in intensive care when I arrived. One of them must have been Julia’s aunt. She was talking about Julia’s mother.”
“What was she saying?”
“I didn’t hear much of it. The nurse kept telling me I was in the wrong place. But the aunt said to her partners something about a girl who died in a motorcycle accident a few months back. I got the impression Julia’s mom took care of the girl.”
“That’s interesting.” Amy remembered Mother Florence talking about the accident. It had been a couple of days before the stroke that killed her. The two of them had been sitting in her kitchen, drinking tea.
“She wasn’t wearing a helmet, Amy. Her skull hit pavement.”
Amy remembered how Mother Florence’s hand trembled when she raised the cup to her lips. She never said why, but Amy knew the death of this girl meant more to her than those of her other patients.
“Did the woman say anything else?” Amy asked.
“Yeah. Something about how the meddling had to be stopped.”
“Who was she talking about then?”
“I don’t know.”
“I bet it was Julia.”
“Wait a sec,” Randy said. “I don’t get this. Why does Julia have to be afraid of her own aunt?”
“The woman’s weird.”
“My mother’s weird. So what?”
“I don’t know, but I think the aunt blames Julia for what happened to Scott. She indicated as much when I spoke to her.” Amy stopped for a moment, lost in thought. “Randy, there’s something wrong with Julia. Since Scott got shot, she’s had a wild look in her eyes. She wants to kill the guys who held up the station.”
“I want to kill them. There ain’t nothing strange about that.”
“It’s strange for Julia. I know her, she’s not that way. Randy, you were working here when that girl died in the motorcycle accident. Do you know anything about it?”
“Nope. I don’t pay any attention to the patients—they’re all sick. They just depress me.”
“Why do you work here, then?” Amy asked.
“The nurses are all horny. Hey, you know, I called that woman Scott had with him last night. She wants to make me dinner at her house.”
“I’m happy for you. But we’ve got to talk about Julia. I think what happened last night has something to do with the girl who died in the motorcycle accident.”
“Huh?” Randy said.
“The guys who hit the station were on motorcycles.”
“Lots of guys ride bikes.”
“Yeah, but Julia’s aunt is here to see Scott and she’s talking about the accident. Look, I know it’s a flimsy connection, but I have to check it out. Randy, could you get the hospital records of the girl who died in that motorcycle accident?”
“They put all that junk on computer. There’s no way we can get into the system here, even if I knew how to type. I’d need codes and crap like that. When was the accident?”
“Just before school got out. June fifth, June sixth—around there.”
Randy frowned. “That’s not very long ago. They could still have the actual records stored here.” Randy glanced over his shoulder. “I can get you in the basement where they keep the stuff. But you’ll have to look for the records yourself. I’ve got to deliver that baby.”
“Gimme a break. You don’t look old enough to be a doctor.”
Randy fingered his bruised chin. “When I looked in the mirror this morning after last night’s game, I thought I looked plenty old.”
“You’re a pervert. You shouldn’t be touching a woman who’s in labor.”
“As long as she’s not in stirrups, I don’t see what’s wrong with it.”