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She kept her finger on his pulse as it slowed, reminding herself constantly not to squeeze too hard. She mustn’t leave bruises.
When it was over, she slid off, careful not to step in the puddle. Pleased with her own frosty poise. White coat, pristine. Sneakers as pure as an alpine ski slope. Only the latex gloves were slippery and red.
Except that she was sweating, profusely. A glance through the open bathroom door at the mirror over the sink confirmed that she was red, hot, her face shiny. She’d have to wait a few moments before she was presentable. Very bad. Maybe she needed to have her programming sequences tweaked, or her meds. She’d have to tell King. The thought made her wince, but keeping secrets would be a far worse infraction.
In her training period, overexcitement had always been her downfall. She’d risked being culled for it on every single cull day. King always concluded that her other gifts compensated for that glitch.
God, how she hoped he’d continue to think so.
Zoe peeled off the gloves, tucked them in the bag she’d prepared for them. Took off the rest of the plastic, folding it carefully. Put on fresh latex, to peel off Howie’s gag, fish out the ball, the Ace bandage.
She closed his hand carefully around the bloody shard, pressing his fingerprints over it again. Dropped it gently into the dark pool.
She left the room, pulling the door shut, and quietly stowed her bag. She peered out the window one more time, seized with sudden tension when she did not see Lily Parr in the garden, or Cal’s cab.
Could Cal have possibly already come and gone away with her, while Zoe was busy with Howard? She certainly hoped so. She peered down the road, wondering if she should call…no. She had to concentrate on her part. No distractions. Distraction was her downfall.
She poked her head into the nurses’ station. “I’m running down to grab coffee and a muffin from the bakery cart,” she said to her colleague, marveling at her own perfectly casual tone. “Want one?”
“No, I’m good,” the woman said distractedly. “See you in a few.”
Zoe unlocked the ward, exchanged some flirtatious comments with the guard, and called the elevator. God, she was good. Now, a shot of simple carbs to calm the jitters, slow down her heartbeat, and it would be time for the fun part. The discovery, the trauma, the blood.
Too bad she couldn’t tape the show somehow, for King’s benefit.
She had to fight not to giggle, imagining it.
* * *
Lily wasfoul-tempered and footsore by the time she got on the uptown West Side express train. Her stupid impulse du jour had reminded her, in itchy, crawling detail, why she didn’t do nature. She’d misjudged the time it would take to walk to the Shaversham Point train station by two endless, plodding hours, and arrived at the train station stumbling with exhaustion, chilled to the bone, shoes slimed with mud, and creeping, itchy sensations under her clothes. Ticks? Spiders? Ick.
By some pathetic crumb of luck, she’d burst out of a thicket next to the train tracks just as the last NYC bound train was about to leave. She practically decapitated herself diving for the open door, and spent the trip taking notes about Howards’s revelations, jotting them on the laptop to fix the details in her mind. She left three messages on Stark’s voicemail during the trip, and two more during the exhausting cross-town walk through underground tunnels to the uptown West Side trains. Too busy to call her back? Damn doctors.
The only thing that made it all bearable was the fact that Nina had promised her Indian food, a soothing cool mango lassi to wash it down, and sympathy. Lily was desperately in need of all three. She was mustering the oomph to climb the stairs to street level when the phone finally buzzed. Howard’s doctor. Finally. She snatched it out of her purse, covering her other ear in vain attempt to block out the rattling screech of the train as it pulled out. She yelled into it. “Dr. Stark? I’m so glad you called! I wanted to talk to you about Howard.”
“Lily. I have bad news.” His voice was unusually stiff.
Bad news?What strength she had drained promptly out of her legs and leaving her wobbling on the stairs. What could be worse about Howard’s condition other than…
Her belly lurched with dread. “What bad news?”
“I’m so sorry to tell you this,” the doctor said. “But after you left this afternoon, I’m afraid Howard, ah…well, he took his own life.”
“Took his own…” Her voice trailed off. “Hewhat?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Afraid so?Afraid of what? What the fuck did this guy have to be afraid of? She was the one who’d lived in fear for twenty goddamn years.
Her mind picked at the guy’s stupid word choice so she didn’t have to process what he’d actually said. What it meant for her.
Ah, God. For so long now, the whole purpose of her existence had been to stop Howard from doing this. And he’d done it anyway. After all these years. All the nets she held out. They hadn’t been enough to catch him. All pointless. All her frantic effort. Flailing like an idiot. Oh, God.
Stark’s voice droned on. She couldn’t make out his words. She was seeing all the times she’d found Howard on the floor, and sat with him there for hours, waiting for him to wake up. Feeling his pulse, holding a mirror in front of his nose, trying to judge if this was a normal opiate binge that he would sleep off, or one of the deadly biggies, before she called the ambulance, again, and wasted the EMTs’ valuable time, to say nothing of her meager household budget.
The man’s whole fucking life, one long goddamn suicide attempt.
And he’d pulled it off. That selfishbastard.She wanted to scream, explode, shoot things, smash things. Her chest burned, her throat was imploding. She felt stupid. Made a fool of once again. Just another little joke of Fate, at Lily Parr’s expense. Hah hah.
