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Ayala excused herself to use the ladies’ room, and she hadn’t been joking about being a lightweight. As she rose from her chair, she staggered and grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself.
“Are you all right?” Hailey put a hand on Ayala’s arm.
“I’m fine. Just got up too fast.”
Hailey watched her friend as she wended her way through the tables in the dining room. Then she rested her elbow on the table and buried her chin in her hand. “Thank you.”
“For what? Dinner?” He fingered the check the waiter had placed discreetly at his elbow. “I haven’t paid for it yet.”
She cracked a smile. “Oh, that, too, but I’m thanking you for engaging Ayala in conversation. I’ve never heard her so animated and open.”
“That was open?”
“For her it was. She’s very reserved and has gotten even more so the longer she spends at the refugee center.”
“Sounds like she might need a break.”
“I know I did after...” Hailey drained her glass, and her lips in the candlelight appeared stained red with wine.
“Are you going to be okay to drive home?”
“Probably not.” She twisted her head to the side. “Where’s Ayala?”
“She’s definitely not okay to drive. I’m glad one of us stayed sober.” Joe slipped his wallet from his pocket and slid a credit card onto the tray.
The waiter picked up the check and the empty glasses and asked them if they wanted anything else—twice—before Hailey pushed back from the table. “I’d better check on Ayala. She’s been in there long enough to wash her hair in the sink.”
* * *
AS SHE WALKED away from the table, Joe called after her, “Be careful.”
Or maybe she just imagined his warning. Why should she be careful on her way to the ladies’ room in a restaurant? Regardless, a little chill caused a rash of goose bumps to race across her arms. She rubbed them and headed toward the bar.
She hesitated at the entrance to the dim hallway that led to the restrooms and an emergency exit. A man brushed past her, and she jumped. Hailey straightened her spine and marched to the ladies’ room.
She pushed open the door and poked her head inside. “Ayala?”
A woman washing her hands at the sink met Hailey’s eyes in the mirror and then looked away.
Hailey took two steps into the bathroom, which contained three stalls. The doors to two of the stalls yawned open. Hailey rapped her knuckles against the closed third door. “Ayala?”
The woman at the sink plucked a paper towel from a stack on the sink. “That stall was occupied when I walked in, but I haven’t heard anyone in there.”
The doors to the stalls reached the floor, so Hailey couldn’t peek beneath. With her head pounding, she knocked on the door again. “Ayala?”
This time, a soft moan answered her and Hailey gasped. “Did you hear that?”
“I did.” The woman was literally clutching her pearls. “Should we call the manager?”
“Go, go.” Hailey shoved into the stall next to the locked one and climbed onto the toilet seat. She peered over the top and yelped. “Oh my God. My friend’s passed out.”
Hailey managed to clamber over the top of the separator between the two stalls and opened the door before crouching next to Ayala.
Another woman stood in front of the stall, gaping. “What happened?”
“My friend’s ill. I think someone went to get the manager. Can you call 911?”
“Of course.”
Hailey curled her arm beneath Ayala’s head. “Ayala. Ayala, what’s wrong? What happened?”
Her friend groaned as white foam bubbled from her lips. “Help me. I’ve been poisoned.”
Chapter Eight
The woman who’d left to get the manager stumbled back into the bathroom. “Is she okay? I called 911.”
Hailey peeled her tongue from the roof of her dry mouth. “She lost consciousness. Can you sit with her for a minute while I get my friend? What’s your name?”
“Marcia.” The woman knelt beside Hailey and put her hand on Ayala’s forehead. “She’s clammy.”
