“Geez, woman, have you slept at all?” Bridgette asked playfully, as she walked into Jim’s house.
Susan simply shook her head where it rested in her hands on the table, her hair stringy from running her fingers through it all night, beside herself with worry. She had a final to take, but she couldn’t even dream of going to class having not heard from Jim. In a voice that sounded distant and far too calm to her own ears, Susan said, “He was supposed to be home eight hours ago.”
Bridgette frowned at her, and Susan could barely see through her swollen eyes, which were burning and probably bloodshot. “Mr. Wade? Wasn’t he headed through the Pass last night? He probably got caught in the storm and pulled over somewhere to wait it out.”
Susan would like to think so, but she had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. “He would have called.”
“There are a lot of spots out there where you lose signal. I think you might be overreacting. Even if he’s not in a place that’s normally dead, the storm could have taken out some of the towers and satellites.”
Susan nodded, but somehow, she didn’t believe it. “I suppose so.”
“How’s your father this morning?” Bridgette asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject, her voice bright and cheerful.
Susan sniffled, crying without tears. Those had dried out hours ago. “He’s good. We read some more of Lonesome Dove. I hope you don’t mind. Plus, he’s sleeping soundly this morning.”
“Of course, I don’t mind. You’re his daughter.” Rather than head to the bedroom, Bridgette sat across from her, reaching out and taking one of Susan’s hands in hers comfortingly. “I’m sure Mr. Wade is fine, Susan. Just give him a couple of hours. I bet you’ll hear from him, and you’ll sleep like a baby after your exam.”
Susan knew she had to go. It was a vital exam and under normal circumstances she’d ace it and bring her grades up significantly. However, if she went now in her state of anxiety and near panic, she would probably fail miserably. Rather than answer Bridgette, she asked, “How did you know his favorite?”
“Whose favorite?” she asked sounding confused.
“My father’s. How did you know that Lonesome Dove was his favorite book?” For some reason, Susan felt she had to know. After all, she would never have guessed, and she didn’t think her mother even realized that her dad liked to read. It was so utterly strange to her that someone they’d met only 48 hours ago would know something like that.
Bridgette smiled congenially. “I have a sense about people. I don’t know if it’s an ability to see auras or just to feel their energy, but things like that happen a lot.” She looked away. “He didn’t tell me it was his favorite, though. I didn’t know that. I just had a sense that he had read it and loved it, and that it would be soothing and healing to him.”
She held up a finger, as if suddenly remembering something. “I would ask if you wanted the good news or the bad news, but they’re one and the same in this case.”
Coming out of her funk a little and trying to put faith in the fact that Bridgette was right, Susan sat up a little straighter. “What is it?”
“I got the results from your father’s blood test.” She reached into her bag, which was more like a tote than a purse, and pulled out a sheet of paper that she slid across to Susan. Not having learned to really read the technical results like this yet, Susan frowned and waited for an explanation. “The bad news—and the good news—is that based on the dosages of Dilaudid that your father should have been receiving, that screen shows that the buildup in his bloodstream is about four times what it should be. In fact, my contact tells me that he’s an incredibly strong, lucky man to still be alive with his liver failure. It looks like he’s been overdosed almost from the day he showed up at the hospital, and these are fatal levels.”
The rage and hatred that flowed through Susan’s veins snapped her out of it completely, and she stood, pacing the floor with the sheet in her hand. “I don’t know what to make of this,” she said, talking as much to herself as to Bridgette. “Is this just a common practice by lazy, evil people? Or was this a personal hit against my dad by someone who feels like he’s an abomination? Or could it be that someone really has it in for me? Hell, it could be random, or an Angel of Death excuse.”
“I don’t know, Susan. The problem is, this would have been a consistent overdose from every caretaker who entered his room. It was a concentrated effort of some kind.” Bridgette sounded as personally affronted as Susan felt, and it was good to have more than one indignant individual working with her.
Making up her mind, Susan slammed the paper on the table. “Put that somewhere safe. I’m going to shower and go take my test. Then, I’m going to put out an APB if I haven’t heard from Jim. Then, while I wait for the police to hunt him down and make sure he’s safe, I’m going to go to work, get with my partner, and call this lawyer. I want these people to fry.”
“Me, too, sweetheart,” she heard the nurse mutter, as she closed the door to Jim’s bedroom and hurried for the shower.
She made it to class with seconds to spare, and for the next hour and a half, Susan put everything out of her mind except the test. When she turned it in, she was confident and even smiled at her professor for the very first time. It wasn’t until she got out to her car, checked her phone—which wasn’t allowed in class on exam days—and found not a word from Jim that the sense of doom swept over her again.
A knock on her car window made her jump, and she gazed up into Boxer’s worried face. That only made her fears grow exponentially. She didn’t bother to roll down the window, instead stepping out of the car. “What happened?” she asked in a clipped tone.
Boxer’s jaw dropped. “That’s kind of why I was looking for you. The nurse at Jim’s house said I’d find you here. Jim didn’t come home last night?”
Susan stared at Boxer, feeling like she was going to throw up at any moment. “Wasn’t he with you? What the hell happened that you lost him?”
Boxer’s shameful blush had Susan ready to faint. “It was getting cold, and he signaled he was pulling over and would catch up. I thought he was just going to button up or whatever. I hung back a little so he could catch me and we could catch the group, but he didn’t show up, so I had the others pull over. We went back to look, all the way to the spot where he’d broken off, but there was no sign of him anywhere. I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. There were no cops or ambulances or anything, either. We thought he must’ve stopped and stayed somewhere, lost his signal; but, we still haven’t heard from him.”
Susan uttered a vile curse. “Come on, we’re going back to Jim’s, and we’re going to call every damn hospital and police station within twenty miles of the Pass, looking for him.” She pointed at Boxer accusingly. “I’m not saying this is your fault because it’s not. You did what you were supposed to do. But it’s your responsibility to help me, so call your little playmates and tell them you won’t be back until we find Jim.”