Night Visions by Thomas Fahy Page B

a bit. Okay?”
    â€œAll right.” She nods and opens the door.
    â€œThanks, Julie.”
    Samantha isn’t sure if she is dizzy from the fainting spell or just furious with Dr. Clay for putting her in such danger. She could have been driving, she thinks. Or crossing the street. Skydiving. Taking a shower. There are always stories in the news about people who die from slipping in the shower.
    She sits in her cubicle and rubs the back of her neck with both hands. Julie walks by a second time. The phone rings. It takes Samantha a few moments to realize that it’s Olivia from the San Francisco AIDS Foundation.
    â€œI’m sorry. What were you saying?”
    â€œJeez, you’re out of it today. Did you hit your head or something?” Olivia laughs.
    â€œIn a manner of speaking. What’s up?”
    â€œI checked with the volunteer office like you asked. The foundation trained eight new people two weeks ago.”
    A pause. “How many women?”
    â€œUm…” She rustles through some papers audibly. “One—Isabella Harris.” She pauses. “Huh, this is strange.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThere’s a lot of information missing from her application. She hasn’t listed any previous employment or experience. Nothing about her educational background. No one to contact in case of an emergency—”
    â€œWhat about an address?”
    â€œYeah, but no phone number.”
    â€œCan I get that from you?”
    â€œHer address? You know I can’t—”
    â€œOlivia, I really need it.”
    She is silent, and Samantha can hear her desk chair squeak from leaning back.
    â€œI’m asking for a favor.”
    â€œHow about dinner and drinks one night next week?”
    Olivia has been asking her out since the day they met two years ago.
    â€œSure, anything. Just give me the address.”
    â€œBe careful now. I just might take you at your word.”
    Â 
    Samantha knocks on Julie’s office door, then turns the knob and steps inside. The desk is immaculate, compulsively organized with color-coded stacks of papers and lethally sharpened pencils.
    â€œI’m not feeling so great after all.”
    â€œI’ll take you to the hospital, then.” Julie pushes back from the desk and starts to get up.
    â€œNo, that’s okay. I already have someone coming to pick me up.”
    â€œWho?”
    Samantha hesitates. “Frank.”
    â€œFrank?” Julie grimaces.
    Samantha hadn’t told her that she was talking to Frank again, and she can see the shock in Julie’s face. Julie had watched them steal kisses in darkened movie theaters and hold hands under restaurant tables. She had also watched Sam walk around like a ghost after he left. So she’d done what any friend would do. She’d learned to hate him.
    â€œAre you sure?” Julie says with surprising calm and restraint. “I really don’t mind taking you.”
    â€œYeah, I’m fine. Thanks, though.” She drops her eyes, staring at nothing in particular, then smiles uncomfortably. “I’ll call you later today.”
    â€œOkay,” Julie says with a smirk. “Just don’t fuck him.”
    â€œ Julie! ”
    Â 
    Samantha is waiting in the parking lot when Frank pulls up.
    â€œSo what’s this emergency you couldn’t tell me about over the phone?” he asks as she gets into the passenger seat.
    â€œWhat took you so long?”
    â€œI was waiting for those dental records when you called.” He reaches for a manila envelope in the backseat and hands it to her. “We have a match—Father Morgan.”
    She thinks about the tooth she found at the crime scene and shudders. Holding the clear plastic X-ray up in her right hand, she’s not sure what she is supposed to see. The black-and-white outline of teeth, some bright with fillings. It crackles with eachbend, like twigs in a fireplace.