room, I think ..."
His reaction was the same as Dylan's had been when Duffy recognized the soft slap-slap of rubber-soled shoes. "Yeah? Well, the hospital is full of them, Duffy. It would be weird if you hadn't heard that noise before."
*Tes, but. . ."Oh, what was the use? Trying to explain was a waste of time. "Forget it."
Had she learned anything new? Anything helpful?
The gumeys were used sometimes to take patients who had died down to the basement morgue.
Did that mean anything?
**What are you thinking about?" Smith asked, his eyes on her face.
"Nothing." Why had that gumey been in her room? If two people had been fooling around, as Jane suggested, they wouldn't have needed a gur-ney. They had the bed.
Could the rickety old gumey have been outside in the hall and not in her room at all?
Maybe. Sound carried better late at night when the hospital was quiet. Maybe the gumey had been out in the hall, passing by her room.
But it sounded closer than that. . .
// she*d heard it at all. How could she be sure?
She couldn't.
"YouVe got that look on your face," Smith said, snapping her back to attention. "You're thinking weird things again, I can tell."
"Did ... did anybody die a couple of nights ago? The night everyone tells me was just a bad dream?"
Smith sighed and shook his head. "No, Duffy, no one died. We had a couple of emergencies, just like we always do at night, but everyone pulled through just fine. If you did hear a gumey, it was probably bringing a post-op patient back up from surgery. Or maybe someone was just being moved to another floor."
No one had died that night.
Then she remembered something Amy had said, about someone dying recently. The man with the missing digoxin . . .
'What about Mr. Latham? Amy said he'd died. When was that?"
Smith tilted his head, thinking. "Old Man Latham? Pillar of the community, member of the hospital board . . . I'm not sure exactly when he died. Couple of days ago, I guess. Just before you got here. I wasn't on duty that night. Everyone was freaked out the next day, though. The old guy had donated mega-bucks to the hospital. Had a bad ticker, I heard."
Latham had died before Duffy was admitted. So his death couldn't possibly have anything to do with what was happening to her. Not that she had really thought it did. She hadn't even known the man.
After admonishing her to "get some sleep, you look awful, Duffy," Smith left.
When he had disappeared through the open door, a depressed Duffy rolled over on her side and stared out the window. As she turned, the sheets coiled around her legs, imprisoning her. Panicking momentarily, she began kicking out, desperate to be free of the scratchy cocoon.
**What on earth..." Cynthia cried as she entered the room and found Duffy wrestling with her bedding. "Duffy, what are you doingT Then she added more quietly to Jane, who was directly behind her, "Oh, Lord, she's lost it! I knew this was coming!" and ran over to grab Duffy's wrists.
"Leave me alone!" Duffy shouted, her face scarlet. "Fm just tangled, that's all." She yanked the last bit of sheet away from her bare legs. Glaring up at the blue-uniformed Cynthia, she asked caustically, "Did you really think I was losing it? Did my doctor warn you to watch out for weird behavior in room 417?"
When Cynthia's cheeks reddened, Duffy knew she'd hit a nerve. The doctor had warned them all to keep an eye on her.
"I brought you some magazines," Jane said cheerfully, in an effort to ease the awkwardness of the moment. "I hope you haven't read them." She was wearing lime-green pedal pushers and a hot-pink short-sleeved T-shirt with the slogan, GO
AHEAD MAKE MY DAY GIVE ME A CHOCOLATE CHIP
COOKIE slapped across it in blazing scarlet.
"Don't tell me, let me guess," Duffy said bitterly.
"You brought me the American Journal of Psychiatric Medicine and the latest copy of Guide to Mental Health Fcunlities^ right?"
A bewildered expression crossed Jane*s face. 'What? What are you
His reaction was the same as Dylan's had been when Duffy recognized the soft slap-slap of rubber-soled shoes. "Yeah? Well, the hospital is full of them, Duffy. It would be weird if you hadn't heard that noise before."
*Tes, but. . ."Oh, what was the use? Trying to explain was a waste of time. "Forget it."
Had she learned anything new? Anything helpful?
The gumeys were used sometimes to take patients who had died down to the basement morgue.
Did that mean anything?
**What are you thinking about?" Smith asked, his eyes on her face.
"Nothing." Why had that gumey been in her room? If two people had been fooling around, as Jane suggested, they wouldn't have needed a gur-ney. They had the bed.
Could the rickety old gumey have been outside in the hall and not in her room at all?
Maybe. Sound carried better late at night when the hospital was quiet. Maybe the gumey had been out in the hall, passing by her room.
But it sounded closer than that. . .
// she*d heard it at all. How could she be sure?
She couldn't.
"YouVe got that look on your face," Smith said, snapping her back to attention. "You're thinking weird things again, I can tell."
"Did ... did anybody die a couple of nights ago? The night everyone tells me was just a bad dream?"
Smith sighed and shook his head. "No, Duffy, no one died. We had a couple of emergencies, just like we always do at night, but everyone pulled through just fine. If you did hear a gumey, it was probably bringing a post-op patient back up from surgery. Or maybe someone was just being moved to another floor."
No one had died that night.
Then she remembered something Amy had said, about someone dying recently. The man with the missing digoxin . . .
'What about Mr. Latham? Amy said he'd died. When was that?"
Smith tilted his head, thinking. "Old Man Latham? Pillar of the community, member of the hospital board . . . I'm not sure exactly when he died. Couple of days ago, I guess. Just before you got here. I wasn't on duty that night. Everyone was freaked out the next day, though. The old guy had donated mega-bucks to the hospital. Had a bad ticker, I heard."
Latham had died before Duffy was admitted. So his death couldn't possibly have anything to do with what was happening to her. Not that she had really thought it did. She hadn't even known the man.
After admonishing her to "get some sleep, you look awful, Duffy," Smith left.
When he had disappeared through the open door, a depressed Duffy rolled over on her side and stared out the window. As she turned, the sheets coiled around her legs, imprisoning her. Panicking momentarily, she began kicking out, desperate to be free of the scratchy cocoon.
**What on earth..." Cynthia cried as she entered the room and found Duffy wrestling with her bedding. "Duffy, what are you doingT Then she added more quietly to Jane, who was directly behind her, "Oh, Lord, she's lost it! I knew this was coming!" and ran over to grab Duffy's wrists.
"Leave me alone!" Duffy shouted, her face scarlet. "Fm just tangled, that's all." She yanked the last bit of sheet away from her bare legs. Glaring up at the blue-uniformed Cynthia, she asked caustically, "Did you really think I was losing it? Did my doctor warn you to watch out for weird behavior in room 417?"
When Cynthia's cheeks reddened, Duffy knew she'd hit a nerve. The doctor had warned them all to keep an eye on her.
"I brought you some magazines," Jane said cheerfully, in an effort to ease the awkwardness of the moment. "I hope you haven't read them." She was wearing lime-green pedal pushers and a hot-pink short-sleeved T-shirt with the slogan, GO
AHEAD MAKE MY DAY GIVE ME A CHOCOLATE CHIP
COOKIE slapped across it in blazing scarlet.
"Don't tell me, let me guess," Duffy said bitterly.
"You brought me the American Journal of Psychiatric Medicine and the latest copy of Guide to Mental Health Fcunlities^ right?"
A bewildered expression crossed Jane*s face. 'What? What are you
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