Saving Meghan(87)

How had he paid her off? How much had it taken?

Becky had checked their bank accounts but did not see any large cash withdrawals. That did not mean Carl could not have gotten Kelly money some other way. She had her debts, her bills, her obligations, and Carl had corporate accounts he could have pilfered with no way for Becky to check. In retaliation, Becky had pilfered an account on her own—a fifty-thousand-dollar withdrawal from a joint savings account she hoped Carl would not notice until later. The question was how to get to California, where she and Meghan could hide out with Sabrina for a while, though her sister was unaware she’d soon be harboring a fugitive. Becky knew that law enforcement would look for them there, but presently that concern was nothing more than another hole in a plan that, if given shape, would have the recognizable look of Swiss cheese.

As it was, Sabrina had her hands full with Cora’s final days, or maybe final month. Her mother was being as unpredictable with death as she had been with life. Becky was confident Sabrina would not turn them away—or worse, turn them in—but she was less certain how Meghan would react to leaving her father. She could lie for a time, say it was only temporary but, eventually, the truth would come out. Carl was going to fight for full custody, and his refusal to believe Becky would be a death sentence for their daughter. In time, Becky knew Meghan would come to see that all this was for her own good.

First, they had to get away, and that meant finding a place to hide out until they could get new IDs. There were ways to buy them or fake them, but it would take time to get that done. One thing was for sure: they could not purchase cross-country bus tickets without showing identification—and that would be a big problem once the police issued an Amber Alert.

The hideout was actually the easy part of the equation to solve. Becky had used one of Carl’s corporate credit cards to create an Airbnb account under a false name. Carl’s company often rented places for work crews when they had lengthy jobs to do. The comptroller would pay the Airbnb bill with no idea that it was Becky and Meghan who occupied the residence. To keep the account a secret, she had used a new email address created on the public Wi-Fi at a Starbucks. Good luck to the police with tracing that.

Loretta looked nervous about facing off with the well-known, seemingly volatile mother of the floor’s most notorious patient.

“Yes, Mrs. Gerard?” she stammered, her accent coming on strong.

“I need to see you in Meghan’s room right away. I need to show you what you’re serving my daughter.”

“But … but, Mrs. Gerard, I no make the lunch. I just serve.”

Loretta’s English was far from flawless. Becky guessed she was Brazilian, but where she came from was irrelevant. What mattered was that she came to Meghan’s room. Now.

“You listen to me,” Becky snapped. “I want you to see what you people are trying to feed her.”

Leaning in close, Becky felt no compassion, no shame, no regret for intimidating—really terrifying—this lovely woman who had absolutely nothing to do with Meghan’s saga. But Loretta was a means to an end, and Becky meant to end this nightmare right here, right now.

Spinning on her heels, Becky took a single step before whipping her head back around. “Well, are you coming, or should I call your supervisor?”

Loretta slunk out from behind her cart, shoulders sagging forward as she followed Becky down the hall, leaving her station untended. Meghan’s room was empty, but the bathroom door was closed with the shower running.

Becky took hold of Loretta’s arm, essentially dragging her to the portable table positioned over the bed, where the salmon lunch was laid out. She stabbed at the salmon with the fork.

“Do you call this cooked?” Becky asked.

Loretta leaned forward, peering at the mashed salmon warily, as if the fish might magically reanimate itself to jump at her. “The fish is fine, Mrs. Gerard,” Loretta said calmly. “Lots of people eat it, no problem.”

“No, the fish is not all right,” Becky said sternly.

“You want a different lunch?” Loretta asked. “I get for you in the kitchen.”

“You think I’d trust you to feed her after this?!” Becky’s powerful voice carried. “This food isn’t fit for a dog!” Outside, she heard footsteps approaching.

“Please, please, Mrs. Gerard, calm down.”

At that moment, several nurses burst into the room, eyes wide with worry. Joining them were two well-muscled orderlies who looked ready to calm the situation using any means necessary.

“What’s going on?” asked the nurse who’d done the room check moments ago.

“This food is what’s wrong!” Becky yelled. “My daughter wanted to try something different for a change, took a bite and got so sick, she threw up all over herself. Now she’s in the shower cleaning herself up.”

Becky pointed to the bathroom door before waving everyone over to the bed, where they could view the food issue up close. All came willingly, including the orderlies. Loretta stepped to the side to make room. Soon everyone was gathered around the bed, bodies leaning forward, examining the tray as though it were a crime scene.

“You call this edible?” Becky shouted. “This is absolutely disgusting.” Becky stabbed at the food with a fork. People leaned in even closer to get a better look.

Becky risked a peek toward the open door. She gave what she hoped was a near-imperceptible nod. A moment later, Meghan slipped out of her hiding place behind the door. She looked briefly at her mother, eyes swimming with fright, before she darted unnoticed into the hallway.