“There’s a lot of things no one told us,” Mattheus grumbled. “So, we’ll find out where she is and go talk to her ourselves.”

“I’ll go speak to her myself,” said Cindy. “It could be too much to have both of us in her hospital room.”

“That’s a good idea,” Mattheus agreed. “In the meantime, I want to dig into the medical mistakes in this hospital, and spend more time with Konrad. There’s a jazz festival coming up I was invited to where hospital officials will be present.”

“Great,” said Cindy, grateful for the new possibilities.

“I’m glad we’ve got Loretta on our team, too,” said Mattheus. “She could find out things that would be hidden from us.”

Cindy was not sure what Mattheus was talking about. “Since when is Loretta on our team?”

“The kid’s alone, she’s got no one,” said Mattheus.

“Excuse me, she told us she had a rich father she lives with, who gives her everything,” Cindy objected, not at all sure she wanted Loretta on their team. There were too many loopholes in her story and situation.

“But her mother just died,” Mattheus wouldn’t drop it.

“A mother she never knew,” Cindy reminded him.

“All the more reason why this has to be a total nightmare for her,” Mattheus persisted.

Cindy wondered if Loretta didn’t remind Mattheus of his own long lost daughter. Was he helping Loretta as a way to be close to his own daughter as well?

“Loretta’s not on our team, Mattheus,” Cindy broke into the fantasy he was developing. “She’s a young girl whose mother just died. She’s strong, she’s interesting, but we really know nothing about her. If she wants to become a detective one day, she can go about it with her father’s support. It’s not up to us to take over her life.”

“You’re right again,” said Mattheus, suddenly sorrowful. “I just wanted to help her through.”

Chapter 16

Loretta contacted Mattheus and Cindy immediately with the number of the room where Ann was recuperating. Cindy decided to go immediately and Mattheus left to continue his research on medical mistakes at the hospital. Cindy walked down the hallway looking for the room. Fortunately, it was a private room, and when Cindy arrived, Ann was alone.

Cindy walked into the room quietly, looking at Ann who was resting in bed, her eyes half closed. Ann was a sensitive looking woman, but frail now and thin. Her taut face clearly showed the enormous strain she’d just been through.

As Cindy approached the bedside she wished her own sister Ann was alive, that she could be visiting her as well.

“Hello, Ann,” said Cindy, as she took a seat beside her bed.

Ann tossed a moment, groaned softly and slowly opened her eyes. Cindy felt badly disturbing her, but there was no other choice.

“Who are you?” asked Ann, rolling her head over and looking at Cindy. “Are you from the social work office?”

“No, I’m not,” Cindy replied. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No, not at all,” Ann propped herself up a bit, seemingly glad to have a visitor. “It’s just that all kinds of people keep coming in, checking on how I’m doing and what’s happening next.”

“How are you doing?” Cindy asked, sincerely, wanting to know.

“Much better,” Ann smiled, “I can’t believe how I’m improving day by day.”

“I’m so glad,” Cindy answered warmly, as if the two of them were old friends.

“Why are you here?” Ann woke up fully then, interested in who Cindy was.

“I’m a private detective,” said Cindy more quietly. “Have you heard about what happened to the woman you shared the room with?”

Ann’s eyes opened wider. “Yes, I heard she passed away,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes,” said Cindy, looking away a moment. She felt odd talking about death with someone who had just been in a coma herself. “I’m sorry to have to bring this up.”

“No, go right ahead,” said Ann, fascinated. “I didn’t think she would die, I thought she would make it. I thought both of us would be better one day.”

“What made you think that?” asked Cindy fascinated.

“I didn’t know her, but I liked her,” said Ann. “Laying so close to someone, sharing the same room, struggling for life, you feel a bond.”

“I can understand,” said Cindy.

“Really, can you?” Ann’s eyes lit up. “No one else seems to. I try talking about it and everyone just tells me to put it out of my mind and rest.”

“That must be frustrating,” said Cindy.

“Is it ever,” Ann propped herself up on her elbows and spoke more intensely. “I don’t want to rest, I want to talk. I’ve heard a lot of things. When you’re in a coma people say everything right in front of you and think you don’t hear. They’re so wrong. Sometimes you’re there, other times not. Sometimes you can listen to every word, other times you’re drifting away.”

“Where are you drifting, tell me?” Cindy felt her heart beating hard.

Ann looked at Cindy sadly, feeling her desperation. “It’s a beautiful place,” Ann whispered softly, “there’s no danger there at all.”

Cindy closed her eyes swiftly. Was it true what Ann was saying or was she only imagining it? Cindy could find out, she could see if what Ann told her could be corroborated.

“What did you hear when you were in the coma, Ann?” Cindy continued with bated breath.

“When I heard things I’m not sure I was in the coma,” Ann responded thoughtfully. “Sometimes you’re in, sometimes you’re out.”

“What did you hear when you were more awake?” Cindy pursued it.

“I heard the doctors around me saying that I was doing better,” Ann was reflecting. “That helped me so much. I heard my husband tell me he loved me over and over, that he was waiting for me to return.”

“Was it true that he said that? Have you asked him?” said Cindy.

“Yes,” Ann smiled, “he told me he said that to me again and again.”

That was encouraging, but not enough proof for Cindy. Ann could have expected her husband to say that, imagined she actually heard those words. Cindy needed more.

“You were laying close to Tara,” Cindy’s voice got lower. “Did you hear her husband say the same thing to her?” she asked.

Ann’s eyes closed a moment then opened. “No, I didn’t,” she replied. “I remember hoping he would, but he didn’t.”

Ann said that with such intensity that Cindy felt jarred. “Did you hear him say anything to her?”

“I actually did,” Ann spoke hesitantly. “It was strange, it bothered me, I didn’t like it.”

“What did he say?” Cindy felt alarmed.

“I kept hearing him say over and over that Tara would never be beautiful again,” Ann mouthed the words carefully.

Cindy started to shiver. She’d heard that exact report before. How else could Ann know if she hadn’t really heard?

“I wanted Owen to stop saying that,” Ann continued, gripped by the memory, “but I couldn’t speak. It was a terrible feeling.”

“Horrible,” Cindy sympathized. “Please tell me, did Owen say anything else that you remember?”

“That’s all I remember hearing from him,” Ann trembled for a moment. “When I came down here to my new room I heard that someone put something into Tara’s IV to help it be over.”

“Exactly,” said Cindy, “that’s why I’m here.”

“I also heard they’re blaming Owen,” Ann spoke very slowly, trying to put the pieces together.

“Yes, that’s so,” said Cindy. “I need to talk to you about it because you were there in the room with them.”

“Yes, I was,” said Ann promptly, “But I recovered and Tara did not. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s not the point,” Cindy reached out to her, soothingly. “Is there anything else you remember Ann? I need you to tell me.”

“Yes, I heard other things, but no one believes me,” Ann started to babble.

“Tell me, I’ll believe you,” said Cindy. “Not only will I believe you, but you may be the one able to help Tara.”