Angels Weep Page 7

  “How?” Nelson asked. “It’s not like we’re hard to spot in a crowd.”

  Tia grinned. “They’ll never see us. The conference room is connected to the closet—the one that has all the games and arts and crafts stuff.” She nodded to the wheeled cart that held the video game apparatus. “We’ll hide in there and be able to hear everything.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Theo was still playing his video game, so they left him with the younger two kids. Morgan, Tia, and Nelson began their trek to the supply closet to listen in on the conference where Honey’s death would be discussed. Tia led them, which meant it was anything but a covert operation, as she stopped to wave or say hello to every adult they saw. Most smiled and greeted her in return, many with effusive hugs that Tia initiated, but when Morgan glanced over her shoulder, she caught their pitying glances aimed in Tia’s direction.

  Nelson didn’t seem to notice; he was too busy steering his body around obstacles like the big red resuscitation carts or the computerized medication stations or the portable monitors the nurses wheeled.

  Morgan used her walker although she barely needed it except for balance and when she was tired. Kristyn had tied a pink and a green resistance band to its handles so Morgan could take advantage of any free time to work her muscles. As they streamed beside her, Morgan realized they made her as noticeable as Nelson’s cane or Tia’s bald head, so she tucked the bands into the pouch hanging from the walker’s handles.

  Kristyn measured the bands by how well they’d help Morgan regain her strength. Morgan measured them by how well they’d work as a garrote. Four-inch wide strips of latex, they were only about the thickness of a deflated balloon, with various degrees of tensile resistance.

  She’d decided that the pink was too stretchy, but the green could work as a weapon. Surgical tubing or IV tubing would be better, but it was kept locked up when not being used, whereas rolls of the brightly colored resistance band material were ubiquitous, found in every patient and therapy area like streams of confetti waiting for a party.

  As they left the cozy comfort of the ward, Morgan was reminded that Angels was still very much a hospital, filled with busy people bustling with importance, places to go, duties to attend to. Did they see their patients as simply items to check off on their to-do lists? Or, because of the long-term rehabilitation process needed to help these children to reach even minimal independence and functioning, did they see them as burdens?

  Because despite the smiling faces, Morgan could not deny a frisson of cold sweeping over her, a feeling that she was trapped and no more a human being than her father’s victims had been to him. Fish, that’s what he’d called them. How superior she’d felt, knowing she was the one who caught the Fish and would never end up like them, gutted and broken.

  Yet here she was, the object of clinical gazes and constant surveillance behind locked doors.

  On their way to the main lobby, they passed a wall filled with an aquarium. Morgan rushed past, refusing to glance at the brightly colored fish who had no idea they too were living in a prison.

  Tia flounced up to the reception desk manned by a gray-haired woman in a navy blue blazer emblazoned with the Angels crest. “Hi, Margie!”

  “Tia, good morning,” the woman replied. “Where are you and your friends off to on this fine spring day?”

  “This is Morgan. She’s new. Still gets lost,” Tia added in a low voice, as if it were a state secret. “Can she have a map?”

  “But of course, dear.” Margie pulled out a glossy brochure and opened it to show Morgan. “You’re here in the main lobby. The ambulatory patient wards are here. The atrium is through there—do you have permission to go there?”

  “She’s in the independent living ward with us,” Nelson said, as if that answered the question.

  “Good. Then you can access the atrium during the day. Just use your wristband to open the door. The pool and therapy rooms are right beside it—you can’t go there without being accompanied by a therapist or aide. So that’s pretty much all you need to know until you’re allowed outside on the grounds.” She flipped the brochure over, revealing a map of the surrounding land and walking trails. “Until then, you should be good to go.”

  “Thanks,” Tia said. “We’re off to the atrium.”

  “Have fun.”

  They moved across the lobby and turned toward the atrium. At first, Morgan thought Tia had forgotten their actual objective, but she stopped at the glass doors leading into the atrium, where spring blossoms were already filling the space with color, and glanced behind them in a very unsubtle way. Thankfully, there was no one there. “You think she bought it?”

  “Only if you shut up and start walking,” Nelson said. “Otherwise the conference will be over before we even get there.”

  Tia stuck her tongue out at him and pivoted to keep leading the way. They passed a hall of administrative offices and came to a set of doors just before the map said they would reach the therapy wing.

  Morgan squinted at the letters on the double doors, but they kept swirling and tilting, making no sense. At least the shapes on the map fit a pattern her mind could process, even if she couldn’t read the words printed on it.

  Tia waved her ID band over the sensor beside the door handle, opened one of the doors, and peeked inside, clicking on a light. Inside the closet were two video consoles on wheeled carts. Its walls were lined with shelves holding a variety of arts and crafts supplies as well as boxed games with bright letters and pictures of laughing families playing.

  “Candyland! I used to love this game,” Tia exclaimed. “We should take some of these back with us. Morgan, what’s your favorite?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t know.”

  “Monopoly? Parcheesi? Clue?”

  Morgan kept shaking her head. She wasn’t sure why, but the unfamiliar children’s games filled her with a heavy feeling of sorrow. “I’ve never played any of them.”

  Both of them looked at her. “Never? Your family didn’t let you have any games?” Nelson asked. “Not even when you were little?”

  “We played different games,” Morgan said, trying to sound breezy and confident.

  “Cool. Later you can teach us,” Tia said, running her finger over the board games.

  Morgan shuddered. No way would she ever taint their innocent playfulness with the warped, twisted games that were her father’s idea of fun-filled family time. Thankfully, a noise from the door at the other end of the closet interrupted them.

  “Hush,” Nelson said. “That’s them. Tia, you wait outside and let us know if anyone’s coming.”

  Good thinking, Morgan thought. Tia’s incessant talking would surely give them away. After being distracted by the games, she’d probably already forgotten why they were even there.

  Tia nodded and theatrically looked both ways before leaving and closing the door behind her. Morgan left her walker at the hall door and crept to the second door, the one leading into the conference room. She didn’t want to risk turning the knob and trying to open it, so she placed her ear to it and heard the noise of a chair being moved.

  Nelson cautiously made his way through the closet, leaning to his good side so that he didn’t bump any of the shelves or equipment with his bad leg or arm. He stood beside Morgan, leaning on his cane.

  “Where’s Amos?” a man said, the sound of papers shuffling accompanying his words. “We can’t keep going like this much longer. We could lose everything.”

  “It’s not that serious, John.” It was Dr. Paterson, but her voice didn’t hold the clinical chill it had earlier. She seemed genuinely concerned about this man. Or whatever he was worried about. Amos—that was Dr. Lazarus. Why would they be worried about Dr. Lazarus? Did they mean he could lose everything because of Honey’s death? Was he responsible?

  “Yes. It is exactly that serious. First off, we can’t keep letting him carry patients for his silly study. Bad enough we have the Lang girl, but now he’s added Justin Hale�
�”

  “I added Justin. He stays in the study.”

  “Why? Is his father your new boy toy? The mother comes from money, why not—”

  “Justin stays in the study. Mr. Hale has promised to make a private contribution to offset the costs.” Her voice lowered. “No need for Amos to know, of course. You know how he gets about ethical standards.”

  John made a grunting noise. “If you say so. But I wouldn’t count on that donation—Mrs. Hale called to tell me she’s planning on discharging Justin tomorrow.”

  “Maybe having him in the study will change her mind. I’ll talk to her.”

  “We need to do something more. Amos can’t keep spending like this. He needs to retire.”

  “He’s your brother. Why don’t you ask him to retire?”

  “I’m just a glorified accountant in his eyes. Never mind that I’ve kept this place going so he can perform his so-called miracles and keep doing his research. Research. Hah. He hasn’t published anything in years. Just keeps collecting data while running us into the ground.”

  “He’ll never retire. This place is his life.” Again her voice sounded softer, with a hint of regret.

  “Then you need to sideline him. You’re a doctor. He’ll listen to you. Convince him that he’s doing more harm than good, or whatever. You let him run this place into the ground and we all go down.” The door on the other side of the conference room opened. “Amos, you’re late.”

  “Good morning.” Dr. Lazarus’s voice boomed through the room, larger than life, like the man himself. Morgan wondered if he’d ever done any acting. Maybe that was why she disliked him and he was so hard for her to read—it was all fake. “M and M doesn’t start for ten minutes. I’m early.”

  “John wanted to discuss our financial shortfalls before the mortality review conference,” Paterson said, her tone gentle.

  “Sorry. I forgot. I was reviewing Honey’s EEG one final time. She was improving on her new treatment regimen. There was no reason for her to go into status. And there was an anomalous—”

  “Amos,” Paterson interrupted. She did that a lot, Morgan noticed. As if it were her job to keep things on track.

  “If you ask me, you’re lucky she died when she did,” John said. “By the end of the month, she would have used up her lifetime benefits. Which is why I wanted to talk with you, Amos. With the new insurance regulations—”

  “No.” Lazarus’s voice was firm. “I’ll not have you talk about a patient that way. She was a little girl, John. She died. How dare you think of her as just another entry in your precious spreadsheets?”

  “I dare because that’s how we keep this place open to help other little girls and boys. Who need us just as badly. I know you think money shouldn’t play a role in your decision making, but I’m sorry, it has to. Unless you want to close your doors and turn away all the other children and their families.” The sound of a chair scraping. “Think about it.”

  A sudden pounding on the door behind Morgan made Nelson jump, and his cane knocked into the conference room door. They turned to see the double doors open, Tia looking flushed and Kristyn there.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing here?” Kristyn asked.

  “Morgan wanted to play Monopoly,” Tia said.

  “Is that right, Morgan?”

  What could she do but nod? She’d never played Monopoly in her life. The only thing she knew about the game was that it involved going to jail unless you bribed someone two hundred dollars or had a get out of jail free card.

  “Seems a bit advanced. Do you remember all the rules?”

  No. Of course not. Morgan kept her mouth shut, looking to Nelson, who was pretending to be searching the shelves. Never mind that the board games were in the front and the shelves back here were filled with crayons and finger-paints.

  “We were going to teach her. To help her with the counting,” he said in a rush.

  The conference room door opened behind them, and Morgan tugged Nelson forward, almost toppling them both to the ground when his good foot got tangled up in his cane.

  Kristyn glanced at each of them in turn and then at the open conference room door behind them. “I know why you’re really here. And it has nothing to do with Monopoly.”

  “Sorry. Life. Bonkers. Yahtzee!” Tia sang out.

  Kristyn smiled, while Nelson heaved a sigh of relief. Tia made for the perfect distraction. Or so Morgan thought until she turned to see Dr. Lazarus, a man who had to be his younger brother, and Dr. Paterson all staring at them from the conference room.

  “What’s going on, Kristyn?” Paterson took charge. “We’re getting ready for M and M. These children need to be back in their rooms.”

  “Yes, Dr. Paterson. I think that’s why they’re here. They’re worried about Honey, how she died.” Kristyn’s tone was understanding, a direct contrast to the fury that hardened Lazarus’s face.

  “This is totally inappropriate,” he thundered.

  Tia jumped and Nelson cringed.

  “Honey’s death was natural; a blessing, even, after everything she suffered.” Lazarus softened his tone from anger to patronizing.

  Morgan stared at him, trying to read the meaning behind his words and façade. The man was a fake, she was certain. It seemed like just about all the adults here were. They all lied, even with their smiles. Especially with their smiles.

  “Children, you need to appreciate your own health and the wonderful recovery each of you has made so far. Concentrate on that. Keep working hard and soon you’ll be back home with your families.”

  For some reason, that made Tia snuffle with sudden tears. Kristyn wrapped her arm around the girl and guided her out of the closet, and Dr. Paterson reached past Lazarus to close the conference room door. The last thing Morgan saw before it shut tight was Lazarus’s brother John.

  He was scowling, but not at Morgan or Nelson—at his older brother. They didn’t like each other very much; or at least John didn’t like his brother, the famous doctor.

  Nelson hobbled forward, his bad leg knocking into her as she backed the walker out of the closet and turned down the hallway. She felt more steady, barely needed to lean on the walker, but it felt good knowing it was there to help her navigate this new world she found herself in.

  Because Angels wasn’t a hospital, she’d decided. It was a prison. And she was going to escape.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kristyn led Morgan and the others back to their ward, where Theo, Justin, and Maria were sitting at the round table, art supplies scattered among them.

  “Quiet time until lunch,” Kristyn told them. “Work on your art therapy. I expect to see some masterpieces ready to hang at the nurses’ station. Just wave if you need anything.” She nodded to the overhead safety cameras. “Or ring a call button. I’ll be back as soon as our meeting is over.”

  And she was gone. The others settled, even Tia quieting as she studiously worked on a toddler’s coloring book. Morgan glanced over and saw the other girl was scribbling randomly, nothing to do with the pictures, and yet seemed totally engrossed. Nelson was painstakingly using his bad hand to finger paint—good for him, challenging himself, she thought—while Maria kneaded her fingers through colored clay. Justin and Theo worked together on a collage, Theo using safety scissors to cut pictures of football and basketball players out of a magazine while Justin assembled them into a story, cheerfully rearranging them as the teams “played.”

  Morgan parked her walker by her bed. Kristyn had left the stack of get well cards, sketches Micah had drawn for her, and deflated Mylar balloons on top of the nightstand, ready for her to hang on her wall. She opened her bedside cabinet to make sure all of her belongings had made it over to her new room. Inside, she found Andre’s book of fairytales, Micah’s sketchbook and pencils, and her clothing. She felt among the socks, searching for the electrode she’d found at Honey’s bedside. Nothing.

  Pulling out the plastic bin that held her collection of socks—Nick kept bringing her br
ightly patterned ones to make her smile—she emptied it onto her bed and checked each sock. She was sure she’d put it in the one with the watermelons, but it was nowhere to be found. Not in with her underwear or other clothes either. It was gone.

  As she replaced her belongings, she wondered about that. Maybe someone had seen her at Honey’s bedside through the safety camera and knew she’d found the electrode? Or maybe it was as simple as Kristyn finding it and not wanting to risk it going through the laundry, thinking it was trash. After all, it was simply a random electrode, the same kind as dozens found in the ward. What had ever made her think it could hold any answers to Honey’s death?

  The questions and arguments chased each other until finally her mind hit a brick wall and it was too difficult to focus through her headache. She tried lying back on the bed, using some of the relaxation techniques Nick had taught her, but nothing worked. So now she had a headache, was no closer to finding out what really happened to Honey or who the mysterious midnight whistler was, and she was bored.

  Morgan sighed. By far the most difficult part of being a patient had nothing to do with her pain or physical injuries but with the sheer lack of anything to do. At least here at Angels, she had the other children to distract her—what would she do if she’d been kept in a private room, like when she’d been back at the other hospital? Maybe Lazarus had the right idea with his less-than-mainstream therapies.

  She joined the others and grabbed the stack of magazines, tore a picture of a dinosaur out of one, and handed it to Justin, who immediately turned his football-basketball scene into something out of a Godzilla movie. Her mind drifting, she kept tearing pictures out, creating her own collage. The paste smelled good and felt soft against her fingers as she smeared it over the bits and pieces. She wiped her hands on her pants, leaving white glue fingerprints behind, and grabbed at the oversized magic markers, adding to the images.