Off the Deep End (36)
I turned back around and pulled on the front door. It didn’t budge. It was locked tight. I scanned the entrance to see if there was a call button on either side of the glass doors listing all the different units and names, but there was only an old-fashioned intercom with one button to push. I pressed it.
“Can I help you?” a female voice called out through the speaker with only a tinge of static in the background.
“I . . . uh . . . I’m . . . ,” I stammered. I hadn’t thought any of this through. The adrenaline had fueled me here, but I didn’t have a plan for getting inside. Only what I’d say to her once we were face to face. “I’m here to see Jules Hart.” I had to think fast. There wasn’t time to screw this up. “And, uh, I’m one of her old friends from college, and I thought she might be able to use an old friend right now, you know?” I tried to keep my tone light and cheerful like I was one of those people who could only have good intentions.
“I’m sorry, we don’t allow visitors into the house at this time. We—”
I interrupted her. I hadn’t come all this way to be told no. “I understand you have policies, and I’m so sorry that I came at an unscheduled time, but I’m literally only going to be in town for a few days, and I have to be in the cities by nine, so I won’t be back this way again. Please”—I flooded my voice with desperation—“it would really mean a lot to me if you’d let me see her, and I know it would mean a lot to her too.”
I waited for her response, but the intercom went dead. Just as I was going to press the button again, a woman cracked the door open and stuck her head out. She was a large-boned woman with frizzy hair who towered over me. She held the door partially open with one hand and rested her other hand on her hip. She gave me a quick once-over.
“What’d you say your name was?” she asked, peering down at me from behind the tiny wire-framed glasses perched on her nose.
“I didn’t.” I pointed to myself. “I’m Stella Winter,” I blurted out awkwardly, giving her the name Carrie and I used to use on family trips when we were kids. Whenever we traveled, we made up fake names and told everyone we were visiting from the UK.
“I’m Ruth Ann, and I’m one of the den mothers at Samaritan House. I’ve been here for over twenty years, and we run a pretty tight ship around here,” she explained with a serious expression. “We have a strict schedule that all the residents follow, and that includes only being allowed to see visitors during scheduled visiting hours. We can’t have friends and family showing up at all hours of the day and night trying to see the residents. That’s not how it works. Maybe in some houses, but not in mine.”
My armpits were sweating. Just look her in the eye. Keep looking her in the eye, I instructed myself as I spoke. “I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect the rules of the house. I just really wanted to see her. She means a lot to me, and I can’t imagine she gets a lot of visitors.”
Ruth Ann’s face softened. “Well, even though our residents have full schedules, we make sure to include visiting hours on it because we encourage them to build and maintain social relationships. That’s one of their treatment goals. It just so happens that you showed up at a time when they’re in mandatory programming, but there are lots of other available hours for you to come by later if you’d like.”
I swallowed, trying to think, but I couldn’t gather my thoughts. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that. I wish that I could.”
“Look, why don’t you let me grab you the list of our visiting hours so you have it, and if you decide to stick around, then you can come back later and see her?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said, even though there was no way I’d be back. I couldn’t work up the nerve to do this a second time, and even if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d get away without any media or police company.
She held up a finger. “Give me one second,” she said and stepped back inside. I stuck my foot inside to keep the door from shutting behind her. The door opened to a long rectangular hallway with two doors on each side and stairs flanking each end. Ruth Ann ducked into the first door on the right. A few beats passed. I heard her rifling around. “Oh shoot,” she said. “The sheets aren’t on my desk. I’ve got to grab them from Laurie’s office. Hold on.”
I didn’t think. I just took one glance at her office and then darted inside the apartment building, pulling the door quietly shut behind me. I hurried to the stairs at the other end and dashed up them to the second-floor landing. I had no idea where anything was, but Jules had to be here somewhere if what Ruth Ann had said about the scheduled programming was true. I would find her. I just had to be fast.
My eyes scanned the floor. It was arranged identical to downstairs. Four doors. Two on each side. How many rooms were in each apartment? Did everyone have their own room? What if Jules did? Would it be possible to stash Isaac here someplace? Had anyone looked?
My heart sped up at the thought of being in the same place as my boy. I picked the door on my right and hurried toward it just as Jules came up the stairs on the other side. She stopped midstride, halfway across the landing. Her mouth fell open. I was the last person she was expecting to see.
She was too stunned to speak, to even move. She looked like a completely different person. Her long flowing hair that she’d spent hours bragging about and just as much money making perfect was gone. It was clipped and cut short, awkwardly framing her face. And she was bigger than she’d ever been. She must’ve gained twenty pounds from the meds. Maybe more. Her neck swelled with double rolls.