Chapter 21

After she ditched her former maid, or maids as the case now appeared, Mila ran from the car in the rain. She didn’t stop running till she reached the road. She flagged down the first person she could, and climbed into an old pickup truck with a camper shell on the back. The color of the vehicle was rusty red under the downpour, but she could hardly see it. What she saw once she got inside was that it was filthy; fast food wrappers littered the dashboard, and old tissues and magazines, as well as a disgusting, crusty towel were on the floor beneath her feet. Mila recoiled from an oozing stain in the mesh upholstery and wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

“Have you been saved?” the white-haired, crazy-eyed man asked.

Mila tried to answer, but her nervous system suddenly decided to crash. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward harshly on the dirty dash. She wouldn’t awaken for several hours.

When Mila came to she was in a hospital once more, though not that one she’d already familiarized herself with. She knew enough to understand that she was still in the emergency department, and that she was hooked up to all sorts of monitors.

“Where am I?” she rasped, severely startling the nurse checking her IV.

“God, you’re awake!” the woman squeaked. “You’re at St. Christopher’s. I’ll go inform the doctor that you’re up.”

Mila watched her go and wondered how long she had been here; hospitals becoming a constant in her life these days.

The doctor came, a pleasant-looking Asian woman with graying hair. She smiled at Mila. “You are awake! Excellent. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Mila answered through a scratchy throat.

“Well, you have pneumonia, and you’re a little dehydrated which is why we’ve got you on the drip,” she said smilingly. “Now, have you got anyone to come and pick you up? I understand the man who dropped you off did not know you. He said you were hitchhiking in the rain?”

“Yes,” Mila said, feeling that answer sufficiently covered things.

“Have you got family to come and pick you up?”

“No.”

“Friends?”

“No.”

“Money for a cab or bus fare?”

Mila stopped answering.

“Do you have a residence that I can list on the form? Insurance?”

“Nope,” Mila said defiantly.

The doctor tapped her clipboard with her pen and said, “All right. We’ll keep you here overnight and figure it out tomorrow. For now, I want you to get some rest.”

She went out and an orderly came in with dinner on a tray. Mila ate like she’d been starved, which so far, she had. It was easily the best meal she’d had in weeks, and as she slurped down the last of her vegetable beef stew, she was sad to see it end. They came for the tray, and she settled in, thinking how comfortable the bed was. It was nice not having to sleep in a field, or worry about the cold. It was nice to have a pillow under her head. She fell asleep easily, never dreaming that her life was about to take a most unusual turn; one precipitated by the well-meaning doctor in the white coat.

The one who watched from the nurses’ station, arranging things in her mind.

“Still no answer,” the nurse informed her.

“I’m off shift,” the doctor said. “I’ll worry about this tomorrow.”

“Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

She collected her keys quickly, before a head trauma could interrupt her plan to get away tonight. Dr. Ogawa found her car and drove away before anyone could call her back. In her hand was a scrap of paper, and on it was scrawled an address in a town nearly thirty miles away. She wasn’t completely certain what she hoped to accomplish by wasting her precious personal time driving out to this house, but something was telling her it was vitally important.

There was no answer, but the front curtains were wide open, and there was a collection of newspapers on the doorstep when she arrived. She tried the knob and it turned easily in her hand.

“Hello?” she called uncertainly as she crossed the threshold. The stench nearly sent her reeling back onto the porch. She retreated a few steps, pulled her cell phone from her purse, and dialed emergency services. “This is Dr. Cindy Ogawa, and I need you to send out a unit.”

She gave out the address and waited as they took her information.

“The nature of the problem?” she said, trying to phrase it succinctly, “There’s a dead body in this house.”