After She's Gone Read Free Page A

dancing around her face as her features drew into a scowl. “A little elevated,” she said to herself, taking note of the blood pressure reading.
    “The dream. Got me going, I guess,” Cassie said.
    “Hmm.”
    Before she could stop herself Cassie asked, “No one around here wears any of those old uniforms, do they? You know, the white dress and pointy cap?”
    “Oh, God. And retro blue and red cape?” She shot Cassie a wry glance of disbelief. “Not in like forty or fifty years, I guess. Why?”
    “No big deal.”
    “Welcome to the twenty-first century, the age of scrubs, thank God.” Quickly she typed some information into the keyboard positioned near Cassie’s bed. Cassie desperately wanted to ask more questions about the nurse in white, but realized it wouldn’t help her cause to appear more confused—that was the term they used—than ever. She cleared her throat and faked a yawn. Better to end this conversation before she said something she’d regret. That was her problem, well, one of them, she was too inquisitive, too forthright, too eager to say what was on her mind. People, especially the doctors and nurses at Mercy Hospital, didn’t appreciate her overabundant curiosity and quick tongue. So she held it. For now.
    “Do you need anything else?” the nurse asked.
    “I don’t think so. I’m . . . I’m fine.”
    Nurse Keller didn’t seem convinced and Cassie held her breath, hearing the rattle of a tray from the hallway and the gentle hum of a whispered conversation from the nurses’ desk. “Okay, so, if you do need anything, just call.”
    “Got the button right here,” Cassie said, lifting the electronic paging device attached to the rail of her bed.
    “Good.” A quick smile as the nurse turned to leave.
    “Uh, wait. There aren’t any cameras here, right? In the room?”
    At the reknitting of the nurse’s brows, Cassie instantly knew she’d made a mistake.
    “I mean monitors, you know?” Oh, she’d stepped into it this time. “Just . . . just to keep an eye on patients, make sure they’re okay. For medical reasons.”
    “Mercy Hospital is very concerned with patient privacy and patient rights. Private rooms are just that: private.”
    “Oh, good. I thought so,” Cassie said with a smile she didn’t feel, then pretended to yawn again.
    “Is there something wrong?”
    “No, no. Just wondering.”
    Nurse Keller wasn’t buying her excuse for a second, Cassie could tell. She hesitated, then with an almost unnoticeable shake of her head, said, “Well, try to rest now,” and was gone a few moments later, her footsteps padding down the hall.
    This was all so very wrong. Through the crack, she saw Nurse Keller approach the nurses’ station. From her elevated bed, she had a view of the curved desk that molded beneath the chest-high counter. Phones, equipment, and monitors were tucked beneath the counter and desk chairs on wheels moved from one station to the next.
    Wide hallways fingered like tentacles on an octopus from the nurses’ station to the patient rooms. A bank of elevators was positioned across from control central. She couldn’t see them from her room but they were close enough that she heard the soft ding of bells announcing the elevator cars’ arrival on this the fourth floor, all day and deep into the night.
    Cassie’s gaze followed Nurse Keller as she joined two other graveyard shift nurses. Tom was tall and lanky. His once-red hair was starting to gray and somehow, despite the constant Oregon drizzle, he boasted a perpetual tan. The third nurse was in her twenties, a pudgy blond woman whom Cassie didn’t recognize. They whispered among themselves and glanced in her direction, then the blonde giggled.
    Cassie exhaled heavily. She was a celebrity of sorts. Both her sister and mother were far more famous than she, each an actress who had found the public’s favor, while her attempt to conquer Hollywood had been pretty dismal, but here, at Mercy Hospital, she’d