Neighborly(81)

I’m not exactly following him. “Does that mean she’s not OK? That she’s not being discharged?”

“No, her prognosis is very good, fortunately. But leptospirosis is found in the urine of cattle, pigs, horses, wild animals, and, rarely, in that of dogs. You notice how frequently the word rare is appearing in this conversation.”

I nod, feeling like I might be dreaming after all. Nightmaring, actually.

“Humans can become contaminated through contact with the bodily fluids of an infected animal, or with water, soil, or food that’s been contaminated by an infected animal. You don’t have a dog, correct?”

“No.”

“You don’t live on a farm.”

“No.”

“Nor do your family members in Fort Bragg?”

“No.”

“The people at highest risk for this very rare bacterial infection are farmers or those who work in sewers, mines, or slaughterhouses. That’s why no one suspected leptospirosis in Sadie’s case. That, and the infection mimics many other more common viruses.”

“So you’re saying that if it was leptospirosis, then Sadie was poisoned?”

“I’ve sent the sample to the CDC for more conclusive results, and what I’m telling you is preliminary; it wouldn’t hold up in a court of law, but . . . if it were my daughter, I’d want to know.”

I feel like I might have a panic attack, but Dr. Vreeland seems oblivious. He’s still talking. “I should mention for the purposes of a time line, of sorts, that the incubation period is typically seven to twenty-one days, though it can be as long as thirty days. And it’s rarely—there’s that word again—fatal, if you get medical attention promptly, but sometimes it can cause permanent damage to the kidneys, lungs, and other major organs. In Sadie’s case, we’ve ruled all that out. But permanent damage was a possibility, is what I’m saying. Sadie is one lucky girl.”

Luck is a relative term. “Thank you, Dr. Vreeland.”

He stands up. “The nurse will be in with the paperwork in a few minutes.”

Oh God. When I wrote that post on GoodNeighbors, I hadn’t known Sadie really was poisoned. I’ve gone and fired a warning shot at whoever tried to hurt her.

With that incubation period, it could be anyone. Practically the whole neighborhood’s been through our home. I don’t know the method of transmission, but it feels like they all had their opportunities. They created them.

I text Doug frantically. I need you.

Come to the hospital now.

We can’t go home.

Fifteen awful minutes pass. This is inexcusable. He knows that I’m alone at the hospital with our sick baby. Yes, she’s on the mend, but people can take turns for the worse. He’s supposed to be making himself available to me. I didn’t tell him that when he left, because it seemed too obvious.

Where’s the nurse? Not that I want her bringing me that paperwork. Then we’re supposed to vacate the room, and I don’t know where to go.

I call Doug’s cell. He doesn’t answer. I call his work line. No answer. I go to his company website and look up his colleagues. I call every one of their numbers until someone answers, and then I say it’s an emergency, that I need Doug to call me immediately.

“Doug’s not in. He hasn’t been in since your daughter got sick. It sounds like maybe you misunderstood . . . ?” The woman trails off, with obvious sympathy. She thinks what anyone would think in this situation. That he lied to me. That I’m a fool.

The neighborhood rumors must be true. He is with Andie.

I wanted him to talk to Dr. Vreeland and figure out what questions I’d forgotten to ask. I wanted us to call the police together. Then we could sell the house, and if we lose some money, so be it. It’s only money; it’s not Sadie’s life.

But I can’t reach him, because he doesn’t want to be reached. He wants his privacy. He wants Andie.

All those unexplained absences. The fights he picked so he could storm off.

He’s been having an affair while his baby’s life was in danger. This is not the man I thought I knew. This is not a man I can trust.

If we’d never moved here, would he have just found a different woman in another neighborhood, or is it really something about the AV? Has this block destroyed us or just exposed us?

We’re safe here, at the hospital. I don’t know how we can be safe at home, but I also don’t know where else we can go. To a hotel, maybe, just the two of us. We’d have to tell Doug where we were or it might be considered kidnapping. Whatever it takes, I will keep her safe.





CHAPTER 32

ELLEN

I’ve seen Nils driving down the street really slowly on two separate occasions. Casing the joint, that’s what they would say in old movies. It weirded me out, even though I’ve never been of much interest to him. I’m sure Ilsa doesn’t know.

They look more like brother and sister than most actual siblings—both so towheaded they’re practically albino, both so tall that they’ve developed the habit of stooping so they won’t intimidate. But that’s not why Nils was riding so low in the seat. He seemed, absurdly enough, like he was trying to appear inconspicuous. It might have helped if he wasn’t driving a Hummer.

It’s just one more sign of the apocalypse—the walking dead returning to haunt the living.