though she didn’t want to, dressed in her green plaid uniform, the white blouse a little grimy, the sweater already a size too small, the shoes ugly and chafing.
The door was open, gaping like a missing tooth into the darkness. Into the living room. Into the place she always tried everything she could think of to avoid.
Open. Silent. And Kate was afraid.
The front steps were uneven, listing off the old wooden porch. A dog should have barked. Kate should have heard the TV on in the living room. She heard nothing. She didn’t see anything but a shadow.
A shadow, moving.
She screamed.
And bolted upright in bed to have John McWilliams grab her.
“You better now, little girl?”
Kate was still shaking. It made her so mad. She hadn’t had the nightmare in so long. At least a year, when she’d finally told Michael to take the big hike. Always the same dream, the same afternoon, the same slow walk up to the porch, the same frustrating end.
Nothing. No pictures, no sound, no answers why she would dream it and why she wouldn’t dream all of it.
“I’m okay,” she assured the frowning policeman, knowing she wasn’t. “It’s just a stress dream I get. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Took five years off my young life when I hear you screamin’ like dat.”
It was morning. Kate could hear the rush-hour traffic outside, the rumble of breakfast carts downthe hallway. She still felt tired and sore and shaky. Her heart rate didn’t seem to want to climb back down from the stratosphere. And John was bringing her more trouble. She could see it in his nonchalant manner.
“Got a few minutes?” he asked, his soft brown eyes wary.
Kate just snorted. “I guess this means I’ll have to cancel that bike trip I’d planned along the Katy Trail. What’s up?”
“Thought we’d have a little coffee.”
John shared certain inalienable rights with B.J. One was that he refused to socialize when he didn’t have to. This was not small talk.
Kate grabbed the cap with the pink flamingo sticking out in front and plopped it on her head. “Good. That means we can blow this pop stand.”
John’s smile brightened carefully. “You gettin’ tired of de accommodations?”
Kate was busy swinging her legs over the side. “My butt has a permanent dent from this damn bed.”
“Jus’ a second,” he demurred, not moving.
The caution in his voice brought Kate to a halt. “Do I need to be Mirandized again?”
The second shrug said it all.
All she could see was the panic in little Mr. Peabody’s eyes as he’d caught sight of a bald woman with hooker’s earrings come to save him. “Damn. I was hoping we’d pulled it off.”
“What?”
“Who’s blaming me, Weiss? Fleischer, whocouldn’t be bothered to answer the goddamn phone when his patient infarcted?”
“Girl,” John retorted evenly, “what the hell you talkin’ ’bout?”
Kate realized that at least her priorities hadn’t eroded any. John hadn’t come about Mr. Peabody, at all, which meant the relief Kate felt at knowing the little man was still okay was quickly tempered by new unease.
“I got into another…disagreement over policy yesterday,” she explained. “I just figured no good deed would go unpunished.”
“It wouldn’t be ’bout somet’in’ called an MAO inhibitor, would it?”
It was Kate’s turn to look confused. “John, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why I’m here, girl. Mrs. Warner. Don’t tell me you forgot all ’bout dat poor ol’ lady now, did you?”
Actually, she almost had. Cardiac arrests had a way of doing that to her, even if they weren’t her own. “Of course not. But what does she have to do with MAO inhibitors?”
“You know what dey are?”
“Sure. Antidepressants. Testy little devils that require very strict dietary and medicinal restrictions….” The light dawned. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit, John, of course. I should have remembered. They got her with the carbamazepine, didn’t
The door was open, gaping like a missing tooth into the darkness. Into the living room. Into the place she always tried everything she could think of to avoid.
Open. Silent. And Kate was afraid.
The front steps were uneven, listing off the old wooden porch. A dog should have barked. Kate should have heard the TV on in the living room. She heard nothing. She didn’t see anything but a shadow.
A shadow, moving.
She screamed.
And bolted upright in bed to have John McWilliams grab her.
“You better now, little girl?”
Kate was still shaking. It made her so mad. She hadn’t had the nightmare in so long. At least a year, when she’d finally told Michael to take the big hike. Always the same dream, the same afternoon, the same slow walk up to the porch, the same frustrating end.
Nothing. No pictures, no sound, no answers why she would dream it and why she wouldn’t dream all of it.
“I’m okay,” she assured the frowning policeman, knowing she wasn’t. “It’s just a stress dream I get. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Took five years off my young life when I hear you screamin’ like dat.”
It was morning. Kate could hear the rush-hour traffic outside, the rumble of breakfast carts downthe hallway. She still felt tired and sore and shaky. Her heart rate didn’t seem to want to climb back down from the stratosphere. And John was bringing her more trouble. She could see it in his nonchalant manner.
“Got a few minutes?” he asked, his soft brown eyes wary.
Kate just snorted. “I guess this means I’ll have to cancel that bike trip I’d planned along the Katy Trail. What’s up?”
“Thought we’d have a little coffee.”
John shared certain inalienable rights with B.J. One was that he refused to socialize when he didn’t have to. This was not small talk.
Kate grabbed the cap with the pink flamingo sticking out in front and plopped it on her head. “Good. That means we can blow this pop stand.”
John’s smile brightened carefully. “You gettin’ tired of de accommodations?”
Kate was busy swinging her legs over the side. “My butt has a permanent dent from this damn bed.”
“Jus’ a second,” he demurred, not moving.
The caution in his voice brought Kate to a halt. “Do I need to be Mirandized again?”
The second shrug said it all.
All she could see was the panic in little Mr. Peabody’s eyes as he’d caught sight of a bald woman with hooker’s earrings come to save him. “Damn. I was hoping we’d pulled it off.”
“What?”
“Who’s blaming me, Weiss? Fleischer, whocouldn’t be bothered to answer the goddamn phone when his patient infarcted?”
“Girl,” John retorted evenly, “what the hell you talkin’ ’bout?”
Kate realized that at least her priorities hadn’t eroded any. John hadn’t come about Mr. Peabody, at all, which meant the relief Kate felt at knowing the little man was still okay was quickly tempered by new unease.
“I got into another…disagreement over policy yesterday,” she explained. “I just figured no good deed would go unpunished.”
“It wouldn’t be ’bout somet’in’ called an MAO inhibitor, would it?”
It was Kate’s turn to look confused. “John, what the hell are you talking about?”
“Why I’m here, girl. Mrs. Warner. Don’t tell me you forgot all ’bout dat poor ol’ lady now, did you?”
Actually, she almost had. Cardiac arrests had a way of doing that to her, even if they weren’t her own. “Of course not. But what does she have to do with MAO inhibitors?”
“You know what dey are?”
“Sure. Antidepressants. Testy little devils that require very strict dietary and medicinal restrictions….” The light dawned. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit, John, of course. I should have remembered. They got her with the carbamazepine, didn’t
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