You Are Not Alone(38)
In the rearview mirror, I see her staring after me.
I slowly let out my breath as I turn the corner too quickly, my wheels squealing. I drive another few blocks, then pull over and reach for my phone.
I got the necklace back from the police, I text to Cassandra and Jane. Happy to bring it to you anytime!
I put away my phone and step on the gas pedal, more lightly this time.
My vow to stop lying lasted less than ten minutes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AMANDA
Two months ago
“MOM, I’VE GOT TO GO,” Amanda said over the wail of an incoming ambulance’s siren. “My break’s over.”
It wasn’t, but she wanted to get off the phone. The slur in her mother’s words caused Amanda’s stomach to clench reflexively. And she had far more pressing things on her mind today than her mother’s complaint about a neighbor’s son who’d blocked her driveway again.
Amanda tucked her cell phone into the pocket of her scrubs.
It’s now or never, she told herself, feeling a hitch in her heartbeat.
She walked back toward the hospital, triggering the ER’s automatic glass doors.
The uniformed security guard behind the desk nodded. “Heat’s on today.”
She flinched before realizing he was referring to the temperature outside.
“So hot the chickens are laying hard-boiled eggs,” she replied, swiping her key card to gain entrance into the ER.
She hoped the guard didn’t notice that her hand was shaking.
It had all seemed so simple when she’d been at Jane’s apartment, sitting next to Cassandra and feeling the eyes of the other women on her. I can do it, she’d offered. No problem.
Oh, Amanda, you’re the best, Cassandra had responded, leaning over to give her a quick hug. She’d felt Cassandra’s silky hair sweep across her cheek as she inhaled the notes of rosemary and mint from Cassandra’s shampoo. Amanda knew the precise brand; she’d once peeked into Cassandra’s shower and medicine cabinet, wondering which beauty products Cassandra used.
Amanda had five minutes left in her break.
I do this every day, Amanda reminded herself as she walked toward the medication room that contained the hospital’s arsenal of narcotics.
In other departments, nurses typically dispensed medication on the even hours—ten A.M., noon, two P.M., and so on. That meant the half hour before those time slots were the busiest, as nurses hurried to collect the various drugs their patients required.
Things were different in the ER; predictability didn’t exist here.
Right now, the room was empty. But another nurse could rush in at any second.
Quickly, Amanda told herself.
Her body felt icy as she pressed her fingertip on the keypad, then punched in her ID number. She retrieved the bottle of liquid morphine sulfate she needed for the burn victim who’d been brought in earlier today; he was due another dose soon. Up until this moment, she’d done nothing wrong.
Now came the tricky part; the moment she crossed the line.
Her fingers closed around a second bottle of morphine. She slipped it alongside the first in the pocket of her scrubs.
She closed the cabinet and exited the room, walking briskly toward her locker at the end of the hallway, her Crocs squeaking on the glossy linoleum floor.
Her chest felt tight; eyes were everywhere in the hospital, from security guards to other employees to cameras. But no one had any reason to be watching her, a nurse who’d diligently worked there for several years.
She pushed through the door to the break room. Her luck held: No one was there.
She opened her locker and retrieved an empty travel-size container of mouthwash from her insulated lunch bag. Carefully she transferred sixty milligrams, trying to still her shaking hands. She then replaced the Listerine bottle alongside the scalpel she’d wrapped in a medical towel earlier today.
A wave of exhilaration rose inside her, pushing down her anxiety, as she envisioned texting Cassandra and Jane as soon as she left the hospital: I got it!
Each of the seven women in their group had special skills, but only Amanda could perform this particular task. Liquid morphine extinguished pain, and it also typically caused extreme drowsiness. This stolen dose would be used for those precise qualities.
Her hand, with the mostly full bottle of morphine, moved toward the pocket of her scrubs.
“Hey, girl, hungry again?”
She fumbled the bottle, almost dropping it. She closed her fingers around it tightly and swept her hand behind her back as she spun around.
“Gina! You surprised me.”
Was her supervisor looking at her strangely?
Amanda tried to smile. “Just grabbing a snack.”
Gina walked to her own locker. “Me, too.” She pulled out a granola bar. She unwrapped it and sat down heavily on the bench in the center of the rows of lockers. “Did you see the guy who almost cut off his thumb slicing a bagel?” Gina shook her head as she bit into her granola bar.
“Another one? We usually get those on Sundays.” Amanda turned back around and eased her hand into her pocket, hoping her body had blocked Gina’s view. “See you back out there.” Amanda stepped toward the door.
Gina was definitely looking at her strangely now. “What happened to your snack?”
Amanda felt her cheeks heat up. She shrugged. Tried to come up with a quick joke, but her mind was blank. “I’m not really that hungry,” she finally responded.