Death Comes eCalling by Leslie O'Kane Page A

on her.”
    “She ever tell you who with?”
    “What’s this all got to do with—”
    “Ran into her a few months after graduation. She was pretty broken up about it. She kinda…dropped outta sight for a while. Just like you did.”
    He paused, but I kept silent.
    “Glad to see she was married at our tenth graduation reunion. Course, you didn’t go to the reunion.”
    “I want to go home,” I murmured, thinking about Boulder.
    “Were the rumors ‘bout you ‘n’ Howie true?”
    “What rumors? About the graduation party?”
    Tommy kept his face still. He stared straight into my eyes, unblinking.
    “I was drunk,” I blurted out. “It wasn’t my fault.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Lauren knew it wasn’t my fault. I explained it to her. She believed me.” My vision blurred with tears. This was dredging up such horrible memories. Eventually she had believed me.
    Or had she? During the past seventeen years, each time something questionable happened between Lauren and me, I asked myself that question. Such as last year, when her parents died in a car wreck and she didn’t contact me till a month later.
    “Oh, God,” I whispered to myself.
    Thankfully, we were distracted as a male doctor entered, ignored Sergeant Tommy entirely, and shined a penlight into each of my eyes to check for pupil dilation. He then proceeded to examine my head wound, all the while asking for my medical history, despite the fact that this was the third time I’d given it and he had my chart. Maybe he was checking for consistency. I suppose short-term memory loss is a symptom of a concussion.
    Finally, he finished. He stood in front of me, smiled with what looked like practiced sincerity, and said, “Well, Molly. I’m afraid you have a concussion.”
    He let that sink in much longer than necessary, considering that, whatever memory loss he might have anticipated, this was not news to me.
    Then he said, “I think it would be best if we keep you overnight for observation.”
    “I can’t stay here.” My chest again started to tighten. Another anxiety attack. “I’ve got two young children. I’ve got no one to watch them. My husband is in Manila.”
    “He makes envelopes,” Tommy interjected with a wry smile.
    The doctor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “Just the same, it—”
    “A nurse lives across the street from me. Carolee Richards.”
    “Carolee?”
    “She works here. I think she said in the…cancer ward.” The correct term had slipped my mind. Was it ornithology? No, that had something to do with birds. Medicine had so many multisyllabic words that made everyone in that field sound so much more intelligent than, say, someone who wrote greeting cards. “Maybe she can check in on me a couple of times tonight.”
    “I’ll have someone track her down for you, and we’ll see what we can work out.”
    He left, and only then was I aware that Tommy was still watching my every move. I dearly hoped he wasn’t going to arrest me.
    “Whatever happened to Howie?” I asked. “Do you ever hear from him?”
    “He died. Eleven years ago. Single-car accident. Hit the tree at Kino’s Corner. His blood-alcohol was point-one-six. I, uh, was a patrolman then. Took the call.”
    The door swung open, and Tommy’s face lit up so quickly I didn’t have to look to know it was Carolee. They stood staring at each other, eyes locked. I could be wrong, but I got the impression she’d given him more than ice cream last night.
    The pager on his belt beeped, and he immediately said, “‘Scuse me,” and left the room.
    Carolee turned to me and gripped my hand. “Hi. How are you feeling?”
    Her words were spoken with such empathy, I had to look away for fear I’d start whimpering. “Fine. It’s nothing.”
    “How did this happen?”
    “I fainted. You did hear about Steve, didn’t you?”
    “Steve Wilkins?”
    “Somebody stabbed him to death in his office. I fainted when I saw him.”
    She gasped. Her face paled. “Oh, dear