The hospital cafeteria outdid itself on the chicken medallions with peas and pearl onions. If she hadn’t been so queasy, Raisa would have savored the meal just as much as anything Rex whipped up in one of his gourmet moods. She pushed the plate back and slid out of bed.
“What did Rex find more important than coming back to visit me?” she muttered. “I’m sick of being alone.”
She pulled on the robe Saffron had brought for her from her own bedroom. The familiar smell and texture seemed like home. She closed her eyes and thought of Saturday morning in her breakfast nook. Sydney appeared across the table with a cup of coffee and the sports section of the paper. Her eyes popped open.
Raisa drifted out her door and along the corridor, pausing at various doors when the patients or their helpers caught her eye. She followed a knot of young men in white coats into the elevator. Each one pushed a different button, their voices continuously overlapping as they discussed their latest triumphs on their gaming systems.
One prompted her, “Ma’am? Your floor?”
Raisa pushed the lowest button. After two floors, she rode alone. The doors slid open to a painted cinder block wall. A sign with an arrow announced that “Pathology” could be found to the right, “MRI” to the left. The MRI had let her down with its invasive internal eye and suffocating tunnel. After all she suffered in its bowels fighting her claustrophobia, it only reported bad news. She had no desire to face it again.
She moved towards Pathology, noting to herself that her next trip to the basement would probably take her there anyway. A small man toting a clear baggie of odd items emerged from the door as she approached. “May I help you?” he asked.
Raisa caught a glimpse of the Shoals Court logo among the items in the bag. She cocked her head and read the name “Guillaume Sackett” from a business card. “The Court,” she murmured. “I live there.”
“Maybe you know this guy,” the man said. “The police are trying to make an i.d. on him but this is all we have for clues right now.”
“Mr. Sackett is a friend of my husband’s…ex…almost.”
“Mind taking a look? He’s all cleaned up. I’ll just show you his face.”
The peaceful, slumbering face did not belong to Guillaume Sackett. Raisa shook her head. “What happened to him?” she asked.
“He came into the E.R. with a bunch of knife wounds. He was a goner right from the start. I guess someone found him in the alley behind the laundry. I guess they’ll have some questions for Mr. Sackett, maybe even your husband.”
“So do I.”
