Out of the Shadow Read Free Page A

possibly think—"
    Becca nibbled her bottom lip. "Yes, they can. And they do."
     
     
     
    The day following the police visit, her cell rang repeatedly. A couple of the calls were from her frantic mother, Julie, worried to death about her. But a number she didn’t recognize flashed on the display more than once. Assuming it must be the police or other official business, she finally answered it...to total silence. No one responded to her ‘hellos,’ and after a couple attempts to elicit a reply, she hung up. She assumed it was a wrong number, and promptly forgot about it.
    A second silent call came in a couple of days later. When no one answered her this time, she raised her voice. "Who are you? What is it you want from me? Why won’t you answer me?"
    She heard a click and the phone went dead. 
     
    Days slipped by with no drama and little variation. Besides an occasional call from the police with a question about the crime, time dragged on, affording Becca the opportunity to ruminate about the incident. Memories kept her awake at night and overshadowed her days. And there was something more. Obsessive thoughts of the intruder's returning preoccupied her every waking minute. She couldn’t stand being alone much longer.
    Six weeks after moving in with Angela, Becca’s paid leave and sick time ran out. So, on a typical hot and humid Philadelphia summer morning, she put on her brightly colored dress to make herself feel alive, and took the El on her way to St. John’s Convalescent Hospital. At Macy’s, Becca caught a bus that wobbled past towering cement and stone giants that lined the city streets and dropped her off a block from the hospital.
    It took every ounce of Becca’s resolve to enter through the automatic jaws that fed her into the asylum for the suffering and the senile, known as Saint John’s Convalescent Hospital. Blazing fluorescent lights, the shrill of the intercom and a subtle scent of decay met her at the door. When she locked her purse in a staff locker and pinned her name-tag to her starched shirt, resistance moved inside her like a fetus about to be born.
    At the nurses' station she was greeted by two nursing assistants, who looked at her with drawn, serious expressions and peppered her with questions about what she’d been through. She answered them circumspectly, putting them off with as few details as possible. She didn’t want to dredge up the entire painful experience before beginning her day.
    Taking leave of them, Becca made her way from one patient’s room to another; checking temperatures and blood pressure, then entering notes in charts.
    First stop, Beverly Samson in 204. Beverly had a reputation around the hospital for being cranky and difficult, taking every opportunity she could to complain about her son’s infrequent visits, which was a far cry from the truth. Robert Samson made the obligatory trek to the hospital once each week on his day off, even though he looked exhausted and beaten-down after every visit. When Becca reminded Beverly of his routine, she was met with outrage and a raised voice; called insensitive and unprofessional. Normally, this wouldn’t have fazed Becca in the least, but she wasn’t in her normal state of mind.
    Next she entered George Lowry’s room, to discover he had lapsed into a coma while she had been away. George had always been one of her most good-natured patients. Even in the face of his progressive neurological illness, he had maintained his sense of humor. Now he lay flat on his back with eyes closed. Drool drained from his mouth, and snot from his nose. She took a cloth and cleaned him off, but he failed to stir. Her heart hurt seeing him this way.
    In the adjoining room, the stripped down bed took her by surprise. She marched down to the nurses' station to inquire about Barbara Cranfield. One of the nursing assistants informed her  Barbara had passed away the day before. While not totally unexpected, she hadn’t known it would happen