And she would be.

###

At 11:00 p.m., Emma pushed open the door to the break room and filled the largest cup she could find with coffee. She dumped in three packets of sugar for good measure and carried it to the corner table, still stirring as she sat down across from Clara Mandeville.

“You planning on staying awake for the next week or so?” Clara asked.

“Just until this shift is over.” Emma took a sip of coffee and cringed at the bitterness. She opened another packet of sugar and started the stirring all over again, wishing a Starbucks latte gave her the same energy regular coffee did.

“You pulling a double?” Clara asked.

“Yeah. Heather called off again.”

The sixty-two-year-old Creole woman gave her a disapproving look as only Clara could manage. “That’s three times already this month. Marcy needs to fire her.”

“Please. As long as Heather is supporting Marcy’s worthless son, she’ll never be fired. That would put him right back on the couch at Marcy’s house.”

Clara sighed. “I know you’re right, but I don’t have to like it. You’ve had enough on your plate the past couple weeks. She should have asked someone else to fill in.”

Emma felt the warmth from Clara’s words as if she’d wrapped her in a blanket. If Emma’s aunt was Emma’s surrogate mother, then Clara was her surrogate aunt. The older woman had taken Emma under her wing when she’d started at the hospital a year ago and had been a blessing in so many ways. With almost thirty years at the hospital, Clara’s knowledge and experience was as vast as any middle-aged doctor and better than many. But it wasn’t just the medical part of the job at which Clara excelled. She had an ability with people that Emma had always envied. No matter the situation, Clara knew just the right words to say.

Having trouble with a difficult patient? Call Clara. She’d set them at ease and have them smiling before she left the room. Ready to kill an egotistical doctor? Call Clara. She’d have him apologizing and calling her ma’am in a matter of minutes. Feel like you’re drowning in hospital red tape? Call Clara. In a matter of minutes, she’d have everyone doing his job.

In short, Clara was magic.

“I’d like to say Marcy’s a stone bitch,” Emma said, “but the truth is she asked for a volunteer and I offered.”

“Why in the world would you do that? I don’t think the church is looking to make more saints anytime soon.”

Emma smiled. “If the church tried to make me a saint, lightning would probably strike the place.”

“Then why are you pushing yourself like this? Marcy may be conveniently ignoring the dark circles under your eyes and that skin of yours that’s whiter than any white woman is supposed to be, but you can’t deny it to me or yourself. You’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

“How am I supposed to do that when I know someone is after me? Every night, I climb into bed with good intentions, but as soon as I close my eyes, I imagine him there, standing right above me. Then my eyes flash open and I sit upright, holding my pistol and every light on. What’s the point?”

“I thought you were staying at a hotel?”

“I am, but it hasn’t been the sleep aid I thought it would be. I just can’t relax. When my body gets so tired that my mind can’t keep me awake any longer, I finally doze off, only to bolt upright ten or fifteen minutes later, my heart jumping out of my chest like I’m having a heart attack.”

Clara shook her head. “That is horrible, but you can’t continue like this. If you don’t get some rest soon, I’m going to be pulling a double and you’ll be at the top of my patient list.”

“I know. Believe me, it’s not my choice.”

“And you think working a double is going to make it better?”

“No, but I think being in a brightly lit building, surrounded by lots of people, will keep me from having that heart attack I’m afraid of.”

“Did you even think about my suggestion?”

“Yes! I went to see her today.”

“And?”

Emma’s thoughts flew back to her exchange with the young PI, and that same feeling of hope that she’d had when she finished talking to Shaye coursed through her again. “She believed me. Just like you said she would.”

Aside from Shaye and the New Orleans detectives she’d spoken to, Clara was the only other person Emma had told about the man in her house. And like Shaye, Clara had never once indicated that she thought Emma was firing on less than eight cylinders. The older nurse had simply done what she always did—offered a solution.

“What did you think of her?” Clara asked.

“Intelligent and tough but empathetic. She asked all the right questions and showed the appropriate amount of concern, even though I could tell she wanted to shout at me to get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Well, why don’t you?”

“That would only change geography. It wouldn’t stop me from being afraid that he’d follow me. Besides, being somewhere else would put me at a disadvantage. I know this city. I have people here that I can trust. Somewhere else, I’d be completely alone.”

“Exactly what I’m saying. If you did things right, even the stalker wouldn’t be able to find you.”

“For how long? I inherited a bit of money and I have some savings, but I’m not rich. Eventually, I’d have to take a job, and since I’m not up on the criminal element and such, that means ponying up identification. Then I’d be looking over my shoulder every second of every day. That’s not living.”

Clara frowned. “You may be right on that one, but you can’t keep going like you have been, either. You’re starting to look like one of those Twilight vampires.”

“At least I’m in the right city for it—vampire lore and all.”

“Bunch of hooey if you ask me. So are you going to hire her?”

“I already did. I didn’t have time to tell her everything, but I emailed her some information on David on my break. She wants to start by looking into his background.”

“Something you should have done before you married him.”

“Yeah, well, hindsight’s twenty-twenty. Anyway, I left her a retainer and she’s going to start right away.”

“Good. I think you made a wise decision in hiring her.”

“I have to admit, I was a bit taken aback when I first saw her. She looks far younger than she must be, but then we’ve both seen the advantages of great genetics.”

“We have, but she is young. Twenty-four, give or take a year.”

Emma stared. “Twenty-four? Okay, now you’ve got my curiosity in overdrive. How do you know her?”

Clara looked over Emma’s shoulder and stared at the wall for several seconds. “I was working the emergency room nine years ago on the night the police brought her in. One of the old guard, Detective Beaumont, had found her wandering in the middle of the street, weaving like a drunk. She was clothed but only barely, the material hanging on her like rags. She was dirty and smelled of human excrement. Her hair was matted in big knots all over. She had long cuts in her hands and on her wrists, and was covered in blood that turned out to be her own.”

“Had she been in an accident?”

“The police couldn’t find a car anywhere nearby, and she wasn’t talking, so we didn’t know. The rookie cop decided she was drunk or a junkie, but Detective Beaumont said something wasn’t right about the whole thing and insisted on staying while the staff checked her out.”

“I take it Detective Beaumont was right?”

“And then some. Tests for narcotics and alcohol were negative. She was staggering because of blood loss. Once we got her onto a gurney, she all but collapsed, eyes wide open and vitals strong, but she was nonresponsive.”

“Shock?”

“I’m sure. Dr. Thompson was working the ER that night, so we were lucky.”

Emma nodded. Dr. Thompson was one of the hospital’s oldest doctors and took his time with patients. He was the nursing staff’s favorite.

 “He sent her straight off for X-rays and that’s when all hell broke loose,” Clara said. “That poor girl…it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before and something I hope to never see again.” Clara looked directly at Emma, her big brown eyes misting up. “So many broken bones, some of them old injuries and some more recent, and none had ever been set right. My guess is, she’d never even seen a doctor.”