“Move it, Winchester.”
“I’m moving.” I wasn’t.
“Today?”
My current feelings towards G were less than friendly.
“Just get the lights,” I sighed.
As anticipated, we found nothing on the exterior of the bear. Eddy had been washed often in his life.Been sown back together a few times too.
“You think all this handiwork was bear surgery, or do you think we’ll find something inside?” I asked.
“Only one way to find out,” G grinned and held out his hand. “Scalpel.”
“Dude, have a heart; this is all she has from her parents.”
“It could lead to a lot more.”
He was right, but there was no guarantee we’d find anything, and her bear wouldn’t lose its sentimental value no matter what else we found.
“Let’s try less invasive measures first.”
“I don’t see an X-ray machine.”
“Find a magnet.”
He had to bother the less-than-patient tech in the hall to find us one.
I laughed as he switched on the charm to convince her that one, we desperately needed the magnet unless she wanted to let us use her x-ray machine, and two, we’d finish a lot sooner if she lent us a hand.
Lucky for him, she declined the false invitation to help, reminding him that we’d told her this was confidential government business.
And lucky for me, the magnet she found wasn’t a flimsy decorative magnet but a large one, like the ones we’d used for science experiments in school.
Using the magnet like a stethoscope, we placed it on several places around the bear, starting with the limbs.
When I placed the magnet near his tail, Eddy jumped.
“Jackpot!”
“Don’t get too excited, G. We don’t know what it is yet.”
Chapter 29
Nina
Bloodshot eyes stared back at me as I tamed my unruly waves by putting my hair into a tight ponytail. More like a stubby bobtail, but I didn’t care.
Tossing and turning all night, haunted by the empty shelf in my closet, had left me with no energy and less patience for minor inconveniences, like my hair flopping in my face all day.
Today is going to suck.
Nana Sue’s cough, which sounded like she was hacking up a lung, brought me back to the present. She stopped just outsidethe bathroom door; her short, too-thin body relying on her walker to stand up as the fit shook her body.
“Here, Nana,” I said, handing her a handful of tissues.
“Thank you.” She choked out as she clutched the tissues to her nose and mouth while I steadied her.
