214 Palmer Street(3)
The two men lifted her, her body supported by a stretcher she hadn’t even known was underneath her.
As they carried her around the side of the house, she heard hurried footsteps and the sound of her husband’s voice. “What’s going on? What happened? I’m Kirk Aden. That’s my wife, Sarah.” The words ran together, his voice panic-stricken. The men didn’t slow their pace, so Kirk walked alongside them.
Sarah couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. One of the men said, “Your neighbor called 911. She was upstairs when her dog began barking and alerted her that something was wrong. From the second-floor window she noticed your wife lying on the pavement. Sarah wasn’t conscious when we arrived, but she’s spoken since. She seems confused. Did you want to accompany her in the ambulance or follow in your car?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m staying with my wife.”
The ambulance ride was a blur. She felt Kirk holding her hand and heard all three men’s voices: Kirk’s beseeching and worried, the EMTs’ calm and professional. When they got to the ER, the movement of being shifted off the stretcher onto another surface caused so much pain that she cried out and clutched her head. “It hurts,” she said.
“Can’t you give her something?” Kirk asked. “She’s in terrible pain.”
As usual, he knew her so well. The pain was horrendous and the movement intensified her suffering.
“They’ll give her something soon,” a woman’s voice said, a promise that sounded tenuous at best. Didn’t they understand what she was going through? She needed relief now. When a doctor arrived and they rolled her onto her side to look at the back of her head, she felt as if her brain had been pushed against her eye sockets. The pressure was unbearable, so much so that she couldn’t even manage the words to tell them what she was experiencing.
Thank God Kirk was here to advocate for her. What would she do without him?
THREE
NOW
After answering the door, and talking to Maggie Scott, Sarah went back to the kitchen and got out her burner phone, the one she’d purchased just a month before. When Phil answered, she said, “It’s me. I just got a visit from the old lady next door.”
“Oh no.” His voice had the sympathetic tone she’d come to know. Thank God for Phil. When she first met him, a barrel-chested man in a navy track suit, she never dreamed he’d become the one person she could count on, but now even hearing his voice was reassuring.
“Oh, yes. I really hate to ask, but will you get her out of the way for me?”
“Not to worry. I’ve got this.”
“Do you have enough to cover it?”
“More than enough. Which reminds me,” he said. “I need to give you the rest of the cash after I make the arrangements. I feel funny about having so much of your money.”
“I trust you. Just hang onto it.” She ran a fingertip around the edge of the tabletop and glanced out through the glass of the patio door. A bird flew out of the woods that lined the back of the property and landed on one of the dirt mounds in the yard.
“Okay, if you say so.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
By the time the call ended, her worry about Maggie had melted away and tension had left her shoulders. Sarah, who’d initially felt odd about being in someone else’s home, became bolder that morning, using the deluxe shower with the multiple jets as if it were her own, luxuriating in the warmth of the water and using Cady’s high-end shampoo and shower wash. The beige towels were upscale too, thick and soft. She used them to dry off and didn’t even feel guilty. It wasn’t as if she was stealing. When Cady and Josh returned everything would be as they left it.
More or less.
She smiled at herself in the mirror. Not too bad considering the stress of the past few days. If she put on make-up and made some effort she’d actually resemble the Sarah from six months ago, pre-attack, but there was no need for make-up. Not now anyway. She combed her hair and used Cady’s hair dryer, blowing it out until it was nearly dry, then decided that was good enough. She’d let it air dry the rest of the way. Later tonight she’d surely have to take another shower anyway. It didn’t make sense to wash twice but it was force of habit. Taking a shower was part of her morning routine and not doing it would have felt wrong. It was bad enough being in a strange environment. Being in a strange environment and not feeling yourself would just make it worse. Besides, she had time to kill before it got dark.
She headed down the stairs, trailing her fingers as she went. The original 1950s banister had been replaced with a sleek black railing, the wooden spindles removed and taut wires put in their stead. So many updates that she barely recognized the place.
When she arrived the night before, she’d explored the house, starting with the kitchen. Except for condiments, Josh and Cady’s fridge was empty. They’d left a full freezer, however, including two loaves of bread and assorted microwave meals. Not the standard grocery store microwave meals, but some gourmet, organic version, low in sodium and flash frozen to stay nutrient rich. The kind from a subscriber delivery service. Sarah smiled. So typical of Cady to only eat quality food. She did everything the right way. Sarah didn’t need to wonder if Cady had remembered to cancel delivery of the meals during their trip. Of course she had.