Ransom (19 page)

I nodded; an easy smile spread across my face.

Trinity stood a little taller. She placed her fisted hands on her hips. I knew she wanted to look imposing, but it was tough to achieve the effect considering the outfit she had just changed into. Today she was dressed in unrelieved white. Her floor length dress was made of a fabric that was so light that it fluttered softly with her every movement. The
 
sleeveless bodice dipped at the neckline showcasing a modest, yet in my opinion perfect, décolletage. Cinched at the waist of the dress was a gold cord that matched flawlessly with her gold tone Grecian sandals. Satiny threads of fabric twisted from the shoes and around her delicate ankles. Her hair was gathered in a loose bun with a gold olive leaf crown, perched atop her head. She looked nothing short of a Greek goddess, a fact that hadn’t been lost on Aiden, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes and hands off her form. It was surprising that even after three years together, he still looked at her as if she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
 

As if he couldn’t help himself, Aiden planted a feather kiss on the curve of Trinity’s neck. She shivered in response. I would have been lying if I didn’t admit that once again, I was envious of their love. My jealousy always bugged me because no one deserved happiness more than Trinity and Aiden did. Even so, I couldn’t help but long for even a tenth of what they had. As soon as the thought passed through my mind I shook it away. It would never happen like that for me. I didn’t deserve it, not by a long shot.

 
Aiden and Trinity threaded their fingers together then moved toward the door. Aiden whispered something against Trinity’s ear, she giggled in response.

“Camping,” she murmured back.
 

She shot me a devilish grin that said that not much sleeping would be going on in their tent during the night.

“Adieu mon amie,” she said, then with a flutter of her hand like she was the Queen of the Nile, she slipped out the door. Aiden was close behind, offering me a final wink before he exited. The door closed quietly behind them. As soon as it had, I released a long exhale. Suddenly the door burst open again. Trinity popped her head in.

“No boys or drinking,” she said, wagging her finger at me.
 

I knew that she had meant it as a joke, but I couldn’t stop the sinking feeling that came over me with her seemingly benign words. Because she had reminded me so much of Mom that it physically hurt.

“Fuck,” she said when she read the expression on my face. “I’m an asshole.”

She rushed back into the room and embraced me, holding me tight as if she was scared to lose me.

“I love you so much Lexie, I never want to hurt you, ever. But sometimes my mouth goes faster than my mind…”
 

She sighed into my hair. “I just want you to be okay.”

“I know,” I said.

 
I stepped back and covered my mouth, yawning for effect.
 

“Promise to call me if you’re scared or upset, or for anything. Even if you get a hangnail, just call,” she said. It was more than obvious that she was stalling, worried to leave me alone.

“Trinity, I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine. Seriously you worry way too much. It’s not the Cabin in the Woods, it’s a Howard Johnsons for shit sakes.”

She laughed aloud, then with one final look my way, disappeared through the door. This time she didn’t return. Relieved to finally be alone, I fell back onto the double bed. The pink and teal floral bedspread felt stiff, and smelled like industrial fabric softener; much like every other hotel bed I had ever slept in. It certainly wasn’t the Hyatt, but it definitely served the purpose and was, as luck would have it, walking distance from the hospital. Not that I planned on walking at night alone. I was desperate not stupid.

The shower was hot, the stream strong. Driving all day had left me feeling dirty. I was more than happy to have a shower. I tied my hair in a pony tail, still a little shocked at the color of it, which I had dyed black on a whim. It was drastic against my too pale skin, but somehow made my hair appear sleeker. I dressed in a fresh pair of jeans, a fuchsia tee and tennis shoes, then strode to the main desk to call a cab. It seemed odd that I was impossibly blasé about going to the hospital to see a celebrity faith healer, who was quite possibly fighting for his life. I knew I was being more than a little selfish, yet my obsession to contact Mom blotted out all my hesitations.
 

A twentyish Hispanic guy was manning the main desk. He was cute, bordering on hot, with smoldering eyes and dark hair that was tied back in a pony tail as long as mine. He stared at me warmly when I approached him. I couldn’t help but grin back. I was suddenly self-conscious about my crappy outfit. He was dressed professionally, in a crisp white shirt and slate grey dress pants. I looked like a complete scrub next to him. Not that someone who looked that good would have ever bothered to look at me. The guy, whose name was Pedro, called me a cab, smiling graciously at me intermittently. Every time he smiled he showed every one of his teeth, that appeared pure white against his café-au-lait
skin. I knew I was ogling him, but it felt impossible not to. He was the kind of guy you saw in magazines, not at the front desk at a Howard Johnsons.
 

While I waited outside for my cab, I gazed at the city, lit up for the evening. Huge moths fluttered around the streetlights, showing that even the bugs were bigger here than at home. A few minutes later a yellow cab pulled up to the side of the street. The cabby, a man in his late fifties, with a pot belly and a short-sleeved blue cotton shirt, rolled down his window and yelled out.

“Are you Miss Adams?”

I nodded, opening the door to the back. The cab smelled like cabbage and floral air freshener with an undertone of oniony sweat. I was thankful that the ride wasn’t going to be very long.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Smith Memorial Hospital,” I said, as if I actually had a legitimate right to be going there.

“Sounds good,” he said, flipping on the meter.
 

Then we were on our way.

14. LEXIE

Dusk had turned into night in the short distance from the hotel to the hospital. What should have been a ten minute walk, had stretched to twenty minutes because of all the one way streets that had us going too many directions to keep up. I paid the cabbie, giving him a sizable tip, then stepped out onto the sidewalk that edged the hospital entrance.
 

I hadn’t really thought much about what the hospital would look like, so had no preconceived ideas about what I would find. The fountain that was positioned at the entrance was constructed of grey stone bricks and was probably the size of a small swimming pool. The spout of water that was at its center, shot up at least thirty feet into the air. The spurting water was lit by white and colored spotlights that gave it a rainbow appearance. Despite the enormity of the fountain, the hospital seemed smallish. Wedged between buildings that towered high above its roof, the worn façade of the hospital made it appear as if it had been there long before the other buildings.

As I moved toward the sliding glass door, I noticed a few people milling around the entrance, puffing on cigarettes that were probably banned inside. No one gave me a second look. I was silently pleased that I was blending in so well. I hoped the same held true when I got inside.

The interior of the foyer confirmed that I had been correct in my assumptions about the age of the place. Despite the highly polished blonde hardwood floor, and fresh coat of paint on the walls, the place had an old feel. Dated water radiators were painted the same eggshell color as the walls, and were backed by white colonial style wainscoting. A hospital pharmacy was to my left and a gift shop just beyond it.
 

The sleek Cherrywood information desk was massive, taking up most of the center of the room. Several computers sat just behind the rounded counter. I hoped one of the women sitting at the computers would tell me where Gabriel Sanders was.

Though I had gone over the plan in my head several times before I had arrived, I was still nervous. I had everything riding on seeing Gabriel, but there were so many things that could go wrong since I had no right to be there and most definitely no business seeing him. Guilt niggled at the back of my mind, I rapidly shoved it away.
 

There were several women of varying ages, sitting at the information desk. Knowing that I needed as much cooperation as possible, I quickly targeted an elderly woman who looked like everyone’s favorite grandmother. Her sharp green eyes studied the computer screen in front of her through gold-framed half moon spectacles, perched on her thin nose. I was just about to open my mouth to ask her what room Gabriel was in, when I heard a ruckus behind me. I spun around to see half a dozen people, with camera’s and microphones, pour into the foyer. As soon as I recognized who they were, my heart sunk.

“Shit,” I breathed.
 

I turned back to the information desk, determined to get the details I needed, despite the fact that a whole posse of news reporters had just cluttered the space. There was no doubt in my mind that they were there to see Gabriel, just like I was. The elderly lady dragged her gaze from the jostling group behind me. Even before I opened my mouth to ask, I knew I was too late. The gaggle at the entrance had spoiled every chance I had of finding out where Gabriel was. I felt tears gather at the back of my eyes. Crying was the very last thing I wanted to do, but I didn’t have the strength to stop.

“I…” I said, opening and closing my mouth a few times.
 

I struggled to hold it together long enough to ask her the one pertinent question I needed answered. But it seemed that whatever control I’d had slipped away from me. The solitary belief that had buoyed my hope that I could change the past, was rapidly slipping down a rushing river and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

“I wonder if you could tell me what room Gabriel Sanders is in?” I said, my voice faltering. Whatever sliver of hope I’d had was immediately squashed by her cold glower. I didn’t need words to know that there was no way in hell that I was going to see him today, or any other day for that matter.

“Are you family?” she said curtly.
 

I nodded my head with mock conviction. I knew she saw right through it.
 

“I’m here for a statement about Gabriel Sander’s condition.”
 

The woman who had spoken was tall and slender, dressed in a black power suit. She had so much hairspray coating her shoulder-length auburn hair that it probably wouldn’t have moved if she had been standing in a hurricane. I glared over at her, furious at her complete lack of manners. My irritation went unnoticed, as she focused on the lady I had just spoken to. I wasn’t normally a violent person, but it took all of my will not to shove her aside. Seconds later, as if in response to my silent threat, I was jostled by two more reporters competing for the elderly clerk’s attention. When a spate of questions rained down on her, all she could do was sit there with a dazed expression on her face. I almost felt sorry for her despite her less than helpful reception.

With nothing else to do but retreat, I backed away from the now crowded desk. As I did, I managed to almost knock over two cameras that had been positioned on tripods in the short time since the press had arrived.

“Hey, watch out,” a man hollered at me.
 

It was enough to break whatever composure I’d had left. I felt hot tears stream down my cheeks then I was shoving through the bodies that blocked my path. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to be somewhere else. Being in the hospital just reminded me that I had nothing left. And just like that everything that I had fought to ignore, Mom’s death, my last words to her, the lies, and all the guilt that said that I was responsible for her death, converged on me. It took every bit of my will just to keep moving.

The outside air felt stagnant and polluted. I worked hard just to continue to breathe. I swallowed repeatedly against the lump in my throat. Even as I hurried down the street with no destination in mind, I tried to come up with some sort of alternate plan.

 
I literally had nothing at all. There were no more psychics, no more leads, even Trinity had had enough of my obsession.

 
I continued charging down the sidewalk, banging into several people as I did. I actually knocked a middle-aged man on his butt in my haste, yet I couldn’t bring myself to slow down. The neon sign that suddenly came into view seemed to call to me. I wasn’t a drinker. In fact I had steered clear of alcohol all together since Dallas’s party, but right then I needed to do something to shut it all down. I knew if I allowed the monster to come out of the box, and with it all the pain and regret, I was going to fall apart.
 

I pushed through the door, launching myself into Clancy’s Bar and Grill. For no reason other than I needed a diversion, I was determined that I was going to get a drink no matter what it took. I prayed that no one carded me since I was more than a few months shy of twenty-one.

As I moved further into the bar, I noticed that it was quite crowded given it was a weekday night. The place was much larger than I had expected, probably capable of seating at least one hundred people. Much like the name suggested, the bar had a distinctly Irish feel about it. There were signs indicating that they served Harp Irish lager and of course Guinness. The chalkboard hanging on the far wall, stated that the daily special was corned beef and cabbage. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I strode purposefully to a free table-for-two, in a secluded corner. I hoped the lighting would be enough to hide any signs that I wasn’t quite of age.

I slipped into one of the smooth dark wood chairs at the table, picking up a menu almost as soon as I did. Eating was the last thing I felt like doing, but I was certain that ordering food would be a great way to take the emphasis off my age and put it on the food. It was odd that as soon as I was focused on something like getting served in a bar, all my other troubles slid out of sight. The tears that had so readily given away my feelings, dried up. I scanned the menu for a few minutes and decided on the traditional Irish beef stew special, that just happened to be served with a Guinness. I figured after I’d had one beer at my table the rest would come without issue. Just as I was folding the menu, a petite waitress dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a lime green tee that said Clancy’s bar, made her way to my table. I watched her money belt bounce around her waist as she walked.