Cathryn ran out of the room and down the long hall, arriving back at the nurses’ station out of breath. “Nurse! My daughter’s not in her room! She’s gone!”
The charge nurse looked up from her writing, then down at her clipboard. “That’s Martel?”
“Yes! Yes! And she was there sleeping soundly when I came down here to answer the phone.”
“Our report from the day shift said she was very weak?” questioned the nurse.
“That’s the point,” said Cathryn. “She might hurt herself.”
As if she thought Cathryn was lying, the nurse insisted on returning to Michelle’s room. She glanced around the room and checked the bathroom. “You’re right, she’s not here.”
Cathryn restrained herself from making any disparaging comments. The nurse put in a call to security telling them that a twelve-year-old girl had vanished from Anderson 6. She also flipped on a series of small signal lights that called back the team of RNs and LPNs who’d been out working on the floor. She told them of Michelle’s apparent disappearance and sent them back out to search all the rooms.
“Martel,” said the charge nurse after the others had left. “That rings a bell. What was the name of the child taken down to radiology for that emergency flat plate?”
Cathryn looked bewildered. For a moment she thought the woman was asking her the question.
“That’s probably it,” said the nurse, picking up the phone and dialing radiology. She had to let it ring almost twenty times before a harried technician picked it up.
“You’re doing an emergency flat plate on a patient from Anderson 6,” said the charge nurse. “What is the name of the child?”
“I haven’t done any emergency flat plates,” said the technician. “Must have been George. He’s up in the OR doing a portable chest. He’ll be back in a minute and I’ll have him call.” The technician hung up before the charge nurse could respond.
Charles wheeled Michelle into the emergency room and, without any hesitation to suggest he didn’t belong there, pushed the gurney into the examination area. He selected an empty cubicle and, pulling aside the curtain, brought Michelle in next to the table. After closing the curtain, he got out Michelle’s clothes.
The excitement of the caper had buoyed Michelle’s spirits and, despite her weakness, she tried to help her father as he dressed her. Charles found that he was very clumsy, and the more he hurried, the clumsier he was. Michelle had to do all the buttons and tie her shoes.
After she was dressed, Charles left her for a few moments to find some cling bandage. Luckily he didn’t have to look far. Returning to the cubicle, he sat Michelle up and eyed her.
“We have to make it look like you were in an accident,” he said. “I know what we’ll do!”
He tore open the bandage and began winding it around Michelle’s head as if she’d suffered a laceration. When he was finished he stepped back. “Perfect!” As a final touch, Charles put a regular bandage over the bridge of her nose, making her laugh. Charles told her she looked like a motorcyclist who’d fallen on her head.
Pretending that she weighed two hundred pounds, he picked up his daughter and staggered out through the curtain. Once in the corridor he quickly became serious, heading toward the entrance. To his satisfaction the emergency room had become even busier than when he’d first entered. Tearful children with all manner of cuts and bruises were waiting, while mothers with coughing infants queued up to check in. Amidst the confusion Charles was unnoticed. Only one nurse turned as Charles and Michelle passed by. When Charles caught her eye he smiled and mouthed the words, “Thank you.” She waved back self-consciously as if she thought she should recognize them but didn’t.
Approaching the exit, Charles saw a uniformed security man jump up from the nearby chair. Charles’s heart fluttered, but the man didn’t challenge them; instead he scurried to the door and said: “Hope she’s feeling better. Have a good night.”
With a welcome sense of freedom, Charles carried Michelle out of the hospital. Quickening his steps, he hurried to the parking garage, settled Michelle in the van, paid his parking fee, and drove off.
Thirteen
Cathryn tried to be both patient and understanding, but as time passed she became increasingly nervous. She castigated herself for leaving Michelle to answer the telephone. She should have had the call transferred directly to Michelle’s room.
As she paced the lounge, she involuntarily thought about Michelle’s comment: “I think it would be better if I were dead.” She’d initially put the statement out of her mind, but now that Michelle had not reappeared, it kept coming back to haunt her. Cathryn had no idea if Michelle could do herself harm but, having heard all sorts of grisly stories, she could not dismiss her fear.
Checking her watch, Cathryn walked out of the lounge and approached the nurses’ station. How could a hospital lose a sick twelve-year-old child who was so weak she could barely walk?
“Any news?” asked Cathryn, directing her question to the evening charge nurse. There were now a half dozen nurses sitting around the station chatting casually.
“Not yet,” said the nurse, interrupting a discussion with a colleague. “Security has checked all the stairwells. I’m still waiting for a call from radiology. I’m sure Martel was the name of the child radiology came and picked up.”
“It’s been almost a half hour,” said Cathryn. “I’m terrified. Could you call radiology again?”
Not bothering to hide her irritation, the nurse called again and told Cathryn that the radiology technician had not come back from the OR but that he’d call when he did.
Cathryn turned away from the nurses’ station, acutely aware how the medical people intimidated her. She was furious at the hospital, yet was unable to show her anger no matter how justified she thought it was. Instead she thanked the nurse and wandered back down to Michelle’s empty room. Absentmindedly she looked into the bathroom again, avoiding her reflection in the mirror. Next to the bathroom was the closet, and Cathryn looked inside. She had the door almost closed when she reopened it and stared, dumbfounded.
Running back to the nurses’ station, she tried to get the charge nurse’s attention. The nurses from the evening shift who were going off duty and the night nurses who were coming on duty were grouped around the center of the nurses’ station having their inviolable report. It was a time when emergencies were proscribed, medical or otherwise. Cathryn had to yell to get attention.
“I just discovered my daughter’s clothes are missing,” said Cathryn anxiously.
There was silence.
The charge nurse cleared her throat. “We’ll be finished here in a few moments, Mrs. Martel.”
Cathryn turned away angrily. Obviously her emergency wasn’t as important as the ward routine, but if Michelle’s clothes were gone, she had probably left the hospital.
The phone call must have been from Charles, and its purpose was to get Cathryn out of Michelle’s room. All at once the image of the man pushing the child to surgery flashed before Cathryn’s eyes. He was the correct height, the right build. It had to have been Charles! Cathryn rushed back to the nurses’ station. Now she was sure that Michelle had been abducted.
“Now let me get it straight,” said the stocky Boston police officer. Cathryn had noticed his name tag said William Kerney. “You were sleeping in here when a nurse tapped you on the shoulder.”
“Yes! Yes!” shouted Cathryn, exasperated at the slow pace of the investigation. She’d hoped that calling the police would speed up the whole affair. “I’ve told you ten times exactly what happened. Can’t you go out and try to find the child?”