Chapter 8

Two people came into This ’n That Shop. The Antonellis.

Mr. Antonelli’s deep-set eyes seemed more sunken when he saw the store almost bare, and his wife’s small eyes expanded. “How can you do this?” she asked Hal Ripley, the same question that remained in Josie’s mind.

Ripley stared at the woman. “I have to.” He glanced at Josie, then returned to more boxes.

Mrs. Antonelli peeked inside two that were open. From one she lifted a tri-color corded belt, beginning to sniffle. “They haven’t found Libby’s killer yet.”

Her husband stared at Josie. “And where will we be finding you now?”

She felt no self-assurance to stare him down. Raising her shoulders in reply, she turned away and placed more items in one of the boxes.

Moments later she heard the store’s final clients leave.

At five o’clock Hal Ripley told Josie she could go. “But I want to help you finish,” she said, surveying the shop and surprised that it looked even smaller with most of its wares hidden in boxes.

“Cora will be coming. She’ll want to take care of incidentals.” He winced and Josie noticed a slight twitch near his right eye.

He clasped both of her hands. “I appreciate all you’ve done.” His rough palms slid from hers. “You’re an excellent employee, Josie.” His slight flirtatious look flickered and faded.

Ridiculous, she told herself. That stare and the smile he’d recently acquired could surely not be flirtation. She gave him a warm smile. “And you have been a good boss, Mr. Ripley. Thank you.”

Josie hoped to find Andrew’s bike parked outside his apartment but instead found his space empty.

At home Sylvie looked cheerful, oblivious to Josie’s mood when she arrived. “Had a nice day?” Sylvie said, not slowing her dust rag. She sprayed pine-scented foam on the kitchen table. Brisk circles of her hand made it shiny.

Josie grunted.

“Great.” Her mother’s foam went for the chair saved for Josie’s father.

Colin’s bedroom door was open. He glanced up from his textbook.

Josie raised a hand in greeting and continued toward her room.

“Josie.” The voice was small. It stopped her. Spinning, she went back to his door.

His eyes looked hooded by his brows. He swallowed. “Hey.”

She grinned. “Hey back.”

She waited for a comment about bulls and hay. None came. Her little brother’s gaze moved to the open book on his desktop but did not skim over the words.

Josie knew he wanted her out of his room. But his shield had come down and he’d spoken to her again. Her spirits lifted.

* * *

No brightness claimed Josie’s face later while she waited for Fred to complete his job, wishing the machine could heal her brother instead of only sustaining him. Renal failure cannot be reversed all the literature warned. Hemodialysis can replace failed kidneys’ function and purify a person’s blood. Treatment usually lengthens lives.

Usually lengthens lives.

Colin coughed while Josie sat at her table, opening her sketchpad. Instead of drawing, she flicked the edges of pages. Being creative normally put her at ease when something troubled her, but on this night, even her fingers felt without energy.

She hardly noticed she meandered out to the patio swing. Josie sat, not paying attention to whether the waning day’s sky held ponderous black clouds or blazed with sunshine.

Prayers came to mind. She prayed for a brother who had the misfortune of losing the function of his kidneys by what seemed a mild illness. She prayed to forgive Sylvie for not noticing his problem soon enough and getting him to a doctor in time.

Josie figured if she had been near her family, she probably would have seen signs. Sylvie had told her Colin’s fever hadn’t been high, and it was the weekend before Christmas. Sylvie had looked in his throat but hadn’t seen the white spots that might have made her suspect the strep throat. Aspirin took care of his fever. When Sylvie noticed puffiness beneath his eyes, a friend told her it was probably caused by seasonal allergy. Thus Sylvie had ignored all of the symptoms that her son’s kidneys were failing.

By the time Colin told her his pee looked red and Sylvie saw blood in the toilet, it was too late. The doctor said Colin had developed a secondary infection to the untreated strep. His blood pressure had risen and remained high so long his kidneys shut down. For good.

Josie recalled the phone almost slipping from her hand when Sylvie repeated this news to her. “How could this have happened?” Josie asked her at least twice.

Sylvie blamed herself for not being aware, and Josie said it wasn’t her fault. “Don’t feel guilty.” She’d asked if their dad was around, and her mother had given such a run-around Josie realized Sylvie wasn’t certain herself.

Josie quit her job the next morning. She let her apartment go and drove down to Florida, where their father remained around home almost a week. But then Jack Aspen was gone. He’d been gone and not heard from ever since.

Josie prayed for at least one real parent for her brother.

She prayed for a job.

And she prayed to forgive herself for not being near when she was needed.

Andrew came over and saw her solemn on the swing. His smile left. He sat holding her.

Snug in his arms, Josie wished she could remain this protected. He gave the swing a slight push with his feet. Finally he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

She didn’t, but had to. She told about how her job ended, how she didn’t know what she would do now.

Andrew soothed her brow and bolstered her outlook. Everything would be all right. They had each other. She would find something else, something much better.

The day had descended, Josie finally noticed, and a few stars decorated the sky. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

Andrew smiled. “I’ll go in and see Colin a few minutes.”

“Would you check on Fred? I’d like to stay out here awhile longer.”

“Of course.”

Without warning, Josie felt chilled. She glanced one way and then the other over her shoulders. Though she was alone now, she kept the impression of another person’s presence.

She gazed beyond the patio’s overhang at the stars looking down on her. She would miss the quaint shop. She’d miss the odd items and regular customers like Mrs. Antonelli. But not her husband. Josie needed income, but jobs were scarce. How would she find one?

When she kissed Andrew before he left, neither of them revealed their earlier passion.

Colin glanced over the arm of his recliner, his face awash with relief when Josie entered the room. “I thought you left.”

She grabbed her notepad. “Not on your life, buddy.” Smiling, she brushed back his bangs and he grinned. Josie pumped the blood pressure machine, wincing when she recorded the time. Fifteen minutes between the recordings had lapsed to half an hour. His pressure had risen.

Reprimanding herself, she set the machine to pump off more fluids.

“Something funny happened at school today,” her brother said and she realized he’d been waiting to talk with her. She remained near, chatting, hearing him tell of a silly incident involving a teacher and a student, seeing Colin as relieved as she was to be friends again.

His deep dimples told her all would be well.

Fred’s bleep announced his work was done.

Colin rose and pulled out the scale with his foot. Before checking his weight, Josie bent and hugged him. He felt rigid. Playful teasing was their normal expression of admiration ever since Colin had told her months ago that he was too big for kissing. Now, though, Josie needed his hug.

Since his back muscles stiffened, she released her hold.

Colin let go a deep breath and surprised her as his arms came up around her neck.

She struggled to withhold tears. Her brother did not try to hold back his rasping cough while he held tight, and she clasped his slim body, feeling its tremble.

An hour later she watched him looking peaceful in sleep. Josie left his bedroom and in the kitchen considered her options. Foremost came what she’d planned back in Nashville. She wanted to become a fashion designer.

Months ago, when she and Andrew spoke of getting married, he’d said he supported her passion. If she wanted to study designing, he would relocate with her near a school that offered a degree. He could get a job as a bank teller almost anywhere, and with all the praise he’d been getting from his supervisors, he might soon be able to move up in the ranks of banking.

But becoming a fashion designer was no longer feasible. Josie needed employment. She needed it now. And her job had to be in or near the town of Windswept. A saddened laugh escaped her lips when she envisioned Sylvie being in full charge of Colin, putting his concerns before her own. If Josie had any idea of how flighty their mother had become, she would have come home sooner. Now that she was back, she could not, would not leave her brother. But she needed more time with Andrew.

Drifting outside, she gazed at the sky that now bore only the bruised colors of evening.

* * *

Josie appeared to be looking at gray clouds but did not seem to notice them. She appeared deep in thought.

What was she thinking?

The man watching tried to make out her mood. Not quite fearful. But her pondering gaze made her seem to be considering some concerns.

The evening made it more difficult to see her clearly, yet the man smiled, lifting his new purchase. The binoculars allowed him a near enough view.

Humid air made her curls springy. Her lips squeezed together but her eyes were what he aimed for.

Her focus was up.

Josie’s eyes, those golden-brown beacons that often spread so wide her stalker thought he could see inside her through the pupils, appeared to be reaching for some answer. She wasn’t checking the weather.

Turning her head toward her house and cocking her small chin, she could have been studying some object. But a scrutiny of her face told him that what she investigated was inside her.

Her left hand went to her blouse. Her fingers moved, lingering on its buttons.

You know I’m watching.

And you want me.

Now!

His stomach convulsed with quivers and the binoculars bumped his eye sockets. The urge hit him to rush out to her now, to do what he’d done before. But she would be better. Much better.

Only Josie could show him the ultimate vision.

And now she was waiting. Teasing. Tempting him.

The message returned. That last doctor, in Natchez, spoke the words. “Don’t. Whenever you get the urge, tell yourself no! I won’t do it.”

The man watching her heard the inner voice: “No, no, no!”

Yes, he would.

But at the moment, her mother and the boy were inside the house.

He could deal with them. He could kill those two with no problem.

But he didn’t want to, not unless it became a necessity.

Once he and Josie got together, he wanted no interruptions. He would have her all to himself.

Trembling, he studied her. With her head bent but chin lowering, she was searching. Not for some answer to life’s problems, but for him.

“I’m right here, Josie,” he whispered. “You only have to wait for me a little while longer. And then you and I will be together.”

* * *

The man ignored the voice back across the room. Remembering Josie on the lawn, he lifted the edge of his coat and slid his hand to the inside pocket. Glancing down, he smiled while he fingered the scarf, imagining how it would look around her neck.

“You aren’t getting your money’s worth.” Dr. Hanover’s comment made his client shove back the fabric and close his coat. He’d been annoyed for having to come here again, and now the doctor interrupted his contemplation. Anger swelled in his head. He planted his palms on the cool window frame and gave his back to Malcolm Hanover.

Moments lingered. Tick-tock he could almost hear the clock on Hanover’s desk counting, but Hanover’s fingers tapped louder on the wide official desktop.

Mr. Hanover, don’t be so nervous.

The man staring out the window wanted to turn the volume on that sound system to full blast. It would drown out the tapping that kept him in tune to the present. To the shrink’s waiting.

He wanted instead to picture Josie as he had the evening before, especially when she gave that small flash of apprehension. She had seemed to be looking at him through the tunnel of his glass.

She gave that small shiver.

Her hand dropped from her blouse and she glanced around, seeming to notice where she was.

And then she dashed inside.

Dull thuds replaced the fingertips against fine wood. Hanover was thumping his pipe instead of that finger.

Thump thump thump.

The thumping stopped. Hanover was probably packing the pipe with the intent gaze on his sweet tobacco. His index finger would take care of stray brown strands. The pipe would now clench in his teeth where it would balance. Soon it would sway down to the right corner of his mouth and he’d have that expression, the sad yearning to light up. But he could not. Not while his client was in here.

Dr. Hanover was surely counting the moments until his patient left. Then he could rush away to wherever he smoked and ignite that pungent tobacco.

His client stared out, again fingering the silken fabric. He twisted, tightening it into a nice rope. Like Hanover, he looked forward to soon reaping his reward.

“I prefer for my clients to talk. And I’ve begun to tire of staring at your back.” Hanover paused, probably expecting his customer to face him. “I feel I’m stealing your money.”

The client grinned. As if you’d care.

The polished shoes moved and the client readjusted himself enough to watch Hanover approaching.

The doctor stopped at the fern masses, inspected a basket, and plucked what must be dry leaves. He dropped them to a basket and lifted his face to his client.

“Let’s start with this. Some murderers change. Of course we know you were cleared of those charges. Technicalities.”

“Yes, cleared,” the client reminded, blood thumping in his head.

“But the other problem, we know. You had the original therapy and now—”

With quick movement, the client crossed to the sound system. He slammed down the button that raised the volume, making bass and percussion resonate against the dark panels.

Hanover stopped. Eyes wide, he stared at his patient.

* * *

In the dialysis center’s waiting room, Josie peered through the door pane to where efficient nurses monitored adult patients.

She was staring at the empty brown reclining chair when nurse Karen Kinchen broke into her reverie.

“The doctor’s ready,” said the woman with soft silver waves and a pink face with little makeup. “But I really hate to wake Colin.”

Josie noted Kinchen’s stance, proficient as ever while she held Colin’s folder. Today Colin’s favorite nurse wore navy slacks, a denim shirt with short sleeves, and small gold earrings. Again Josie was happy those working here wore natural clothing instead of white uniforms because they looked to be ordinary people, not the lifesavers they actually were. If anyone thought of them as lifesavers, they would have to admit the patients’ lives were at stake.

Colin dozed on the sofa in a half-sitting position with his arm crooked around a small pillow.

“I hate to wake him, too.” Josie nudged his arm. “Hey buddy, time to get up. Dr. Hagger’s waiting.”

Colin’s legs shifted. He opened his eyes and then squeezed them shut. His eyelids separated and he frowned at the women and his surroundings. Wobbling steps took him to the door marked Bathroom.

“How’s his cough?” Kinchen asked.

“Better I think,” Josie said.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll be able to get on the list soon.”

“God, I hope so. Colin needs to get a kidney.”

The door opened and he emerged, zipping his jeans. More alert now, he headed down the hallway.

The nurse leaned toward Josie. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

“I’ve crossed everything I possibly could.”

Colin asked the nurse, “Which one?”

“Door number two.”

As Colin headed there, Josie quietly told Kinchen, “We didn’t see Evan out there.” She indicated the room where she’d watched patients. “He’s usually having treatment when we come, and Colin was looking forward to seeing him. He loves the way little Evan’s face lights up when they talk about sports.”

Kinchen’s face paled. “Evan reached end-stage.”

Josie’s neck jerked like a springboard. She watched her brother stop before going in through the door. He’d heard.

The nurse’s chin quivered. “There was nothing anyone could do.”

Horror exploded through Josie’s mind. She watched her little brother lift his head, trying to be brave, as he walked into the waiting room.