The Night's Legacy Read online

“Then you should have told someone.”

  “I’m not a rat.”

  Though they were good cop-bad cop, both cops used guilt equally well. Betty turned slightly—Mom would give her friend a Glare if she took her eyes off the road too much—and said, “Do you know how hard it was for your mom to get you in here? Do you know how much it cost?”

  “Yes.” Lois quoted the figure. “Take it out of my allowance.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass,” Betty said. “Your mom stuck her neck out for you. So did Richard. They had to practically beg to get you in.”

  “Betty—”

  “She needs to hear this, Jess. She thinks this is all fun and games.”

  The mention of Betty’s husband prompted Lois’s face to turn red with shame. She was glad he hadn’t shown up. Mom putting herself on the line didn’t hurt nearly as much as the thought of Dr. Johnson begging to get her into Brown. She could only imagine how disappointed he was going to be when he found out about her expulsion.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “But it really wasn’t my fault.”

  She hoped Mom would go easy on her, but instead Mom said, “If you see a crime and don’t report it then you’re just as guilty. More so because I know your aunt and I taught you better. We taught you to be responsible.”

  Lois didn’t say anything to this. She just looked down at her feet and clammed up. Betty didn’t say anything either. Not for about an hour. Then she patted her stomach and said, “You two birds probably aren’t hungry, but I’m famished.”

  “I could use a cup of tea,” Mom said. “It’s been a long day.”

  “No kidding.”

  Betty pulled off into a diner off the exit. Lois waited for them to tell her that she was to stay in the car and wait, but Mom opened the back door for her. She even put an arm around Lois’s shoulders to pull her close. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart,” she said.

  Lois wanted to slither out of her mother’s grasp and stomp away, but she knew that would only make things worse. Aunt Betty would probably smack her if she tried it, at least once Betty caught her. For the moment she grinned and bore it.

  They took a booth in the corner, Betty taking up most of one side and Mom on the other with Lois. While they waited for the waitress, Mom rubbed Lois’s back as if she were still four years old. “We can find you another school,” Mom said. “Maybe you could take classes online, stay at home—”

  “Maybe I don’t want to go to school,” Lois said.

  “You need to get a good education,” Mom said.

  “I’ve already got a bachelor’s degree.”

  “Do you think that will be enough?”

  Lois shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “What is it you want to do?”

  Lois shrugged again. The plan since she had been six was to get a PhD in Egyptology and then go to work for Dr. Johnson at the Thorne Museum. She had tried to make that plan a reality, but now she wasn’t sure about it. “I don’t know.”

  The waitress who showed up at the table had hair the same copper shade of red as Mom’s, though with fewer gray hairs. She was probably as old as Madison back at Brown, not much older than Lois. In a strange twist her nametag read, “Lois.”

  “Hi, would you like to hear our specials?”

  “I’ll have a cup of coffee, black,” Betty said. “Plus a cheeseburger with fries and a side of pecan pie. My friend will have a cup of tea and toast, no butter. The little ingrate in the corner will have a glass of water, tap water, not the bottled stuff.”

  “Betty—”

  “Fine, bring the ingrate a chocolate shake, but no whipped cream or cherry.”

  Lois the waitress flashed Lois a shy smile as she wrote the order down. She’d probably seen kids with even more embarrassing parents, or pseudoparents in this case. “I’ll put that in and be right back with your drinks.”

  Mom’s Glare at her friend wasn’t nearly so effective. “The kid needs to be punished. She could have set fire to the whole dorm,” Betty said.

  “She’s been punished already.”

  “That’s not punishment enough. If you ask me, she needs a good reform school to straighten her out. Maybe one of those tough Catholic schools where the nuns still hit you with rulers.”

  “She’s too old for that. And she isn’t Catholic.”

  The waitress returned with their coffee, tea, and a cloudy glass of water for Lois. Lois the waitress winked and Lois and said, “I’ll be right back with your shake, darling.” That was even more embarrassing than Betty’s comments earlier. Lois wished she could slip under the table and faint dead away.

  Betty sipped her coffee, wincing at it. “Is this coffee or motor oil?” she said loud enough for everyone in the place to hear. At times like that Lois couldn’t understand how Betty and Mom could be friends, let alone best friends for nearly forty years. In a lower voice, Betty said, “It’s our fault for spoiling the kid, I guess. We really ought to have tanned her hide after the museum caper.”

  “She’s not a bad girl. She just needs to find herself.”

  “You guys know I’m right here, don’t you?”

  Mom patted her back. “Of course we do, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell us what you need? Let us help you.”

  “Can’t you both just leave me alone? I’m not a baby anymore.”

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that, kid. You’re not to big I can’t put you over my knee.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Lois grumbled. That was the wrong thing to say. Despite the number of fights she’d been in, she didn’t see the slap coming until her cheek was stinging. The tears in her eyes stung just as much.

  “Listen you little brat—”

  “Leave her alone, Betty,” Mom said. “She’s still my child.”

  “You wouldn’t know it from listening to her. The apple fell pretty damned far from the tree in her case.”

  The waitress came back with the chocolate shake. Somewhere she’d found a curly straw to put in it. “Here you go, darling,” she said.

  Lois stared at the curly straw with revulsion. She wanted to pick the damned shake up and throw it against the wall. She was tired of being treated like a child. Tired of everyone thinking they knew what was best for her. Tired of everyone expecting her to be Dr. Jessica Locke and not Lois Locke. And most of all, she was tired of Mom’s blind, unfailing love and forgiveness.

  Watching Lois the waitress sashaying away, Lois started to imagine what it would be like to work here. She could be anonymous here, no one expecting anything from her except to bring their food and the check. She could have her own life, away from Mom, Aunt Betty, and even Dr. Johnson. She could find herself as Mom claimed she needed to do.

  She took an obligatory sip from the milkshake and then cleared her throat. “Can I get out? I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Of course, sweetheart,” Mom said. Those were the last words Mom spoke to her. Lois hurried into the bathroom, where she was gratified to see the diner wasn’t so paranoid to lock or bar their window. It was small enough that no full-grown adult could get out of it without being double-jointed, but Lois was small enough that she could fit.

  She paused at the bathroom wall, thinking of her mother and Aunt Betty. Then she reached into her pocket for her keys. She left these on the sink and then crawled out the window—to freedom.

  * * *

  She awoke to someone calling her name. At first she thought it was Lois the waitress from that diner seven years ago. But when she opened her eyes, she saw an older Latino woman wearing purple scrubs. The woman smiled at her. “Hello, sweetheart. Can you tell me your name?”

  Lois could, except that her mouth felt like someone had crammed an old gym sock into it. The nurse seemed to understand and brought some water for her to drink. When some of the dryness abated, Lois croaked her name.

  “That’s a pretty name. Do you know where you are?”

  “No.” From the woman’s scrubs and in looking around at the beige room with its whi
te curtain, she thought of the hospital back in Texas. “Hospital?”

  “Very good, Lois. You’re in the hospital. Do you know how you got here?”

  That was a more interesting question. Lois remembered being at the museum and going downstairs to find some people breaking in. They’d shot a guard. She had wanted to go upstairs and call for help, but some of the thieves had caught her. The last thing she remembered, a foul-smelling man dressed like an old detective had killed the thieves and then taken her to the gift shop. He must have knocked her out. What else had he done to her?

  She tried to slide off the table, but her head began to spin. The nurse grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t be up and around just yet. You’ve got a nasty bump on the head. The doctor’s going to want to run some tests to see if you’ve got a concussion. Is there anyone you want us to call, Lois?”

  “Mom.”

  “What’s your mom’s name?”

  “Dr. Jessica Locke.”

  The nurse’s smile faltered for a moment. “She’s your mother?”

  “Yes. What’s wrong?” She thought again of the robbery. Mom had been up on the fourth floor, still working. The alarms hadn’t gone off and someone had silenced the guards. Mom might not have even known they were in the museum. “What happened to her?”

  “I’d best let a doctor talk to you about that. What I can tell you is that she’s upstairs in surgery right now.”

  “Surgery?”

  “You stay right here,” the nurse said. “I’ll get a doctor to talk to you, all right?”

  “No! I want to see her. I have to know she’s all right.” She tried to slide off the table, but the nurse easily pushed her back down. The nurse held her down with both hands.

  “I know you’re concerned, but there’s nothing you can do for her right now. You need to get some rest, understand?”

  “I can’t rest. Not right now. I have to see her—”

  She tried to get up a third time. This time she found the nurse had through some sleight-of-hand managed to strap her down to the table. “Don’t try moving too much. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

  “At least tell me if she’s all right. Can’t you do that?” Tears came to Lois’s eyes. “Please, she’s my mom. I have to know.”

  The nurse touched Lois’s hair and smiled. “All I know is that she’s in surgery. We probably won’t know for a few hours yet if she’s going to make it. I’m very sorry.”

  Lois turned her head away as she heard the nurse leaving. From the sound of it, Mom was in bad shape. Just how bad she didn’t know. What had happened to Mom after that creep knocked Lois out? Had he tried to kill her? She thought of the thieves in the museum. The smelly man had saved her from them. Maybe some of the others had killed him for it and then got Mom too.

  She wasn’t sure how long it was when she heard a man’s voice say, “Miss Locke?”

  The doctor was about Dr. Johnson’s age, though bald and potbellied. He took a flashlight out of his pocket to shine in her eyes. “Try and follow the light, please,” he said. She tracked the light with her eyes, remembering when Melanie had administered a test like this.

  “Are my pupils dilated?” she asked.

  “They look fine,” the doctor said. “We’ll have to run some tests to be sure, but I think you just have a bad bump on the noggin.”

  “Great. What about my mom? The nurse said she’s in surgery. What happened to her?”

  “She was brought in with very severe injuries. Third-degree burns on her chest. Three bullet wounds in her back. They’re doing everything they can for her upstairs. We have some of the best surgeons—”

  “Have you called her doctor? Dr. Laura Pavelski—”

  “She’s in the operating room with them.”

  “That’s good,” Lois said. Mom would want Dr. Pavelski there even if she weren’t a surgeon. She would want someone she trusted in the room. That obviously couldn’t be Lois. She thought of the man who had knocked her out and asked, “Was there anyone brought in with her? Maybe a man in a trench coat who smells pretty bad?”

  “The only others brought in were already dead, I’m afraid. I’m not sure what any of them were wearing.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Now, while we wait, let’s worry a bit about you. I’m going to get someone to take some pictures of your head.”

  “A CAT scan. You can talk to me like a big girl, Doc.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Locke. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “I have a daughter about your age.”

  “That’s great. You think you can loosen these straps?”

  “Only if you’re not going to run away. Carla said you were very adamant about going to see your mother.”

  “I was still groggy. I’m thinking more clearly now.”

  The doctor made a noise in his throat. “I think for now it would be best if we keep you strapped to the gurney. We wouldn’t want you falling off on the way to Radiology.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Once we’ve finished running tests, the nurse will have some forms for you to sign. Is there anyone else you’d like us to call?”

  “Dr. Richard Johnson. He’s my uncle.”

  “I’ll pass that along. In the meantime, let’s go for a little trip, shall we?”

  * * *

  They left her strapped onto the gurney until it was time for the CAT scan. Only then did they loosen the restraints to transfer her to the machine. She couldn’t have run even if she wanted to, still too weak from the bump on the head. So she laid back and let them take the scan and then run some other tests. They took some of her blood too, though she wasn’t sure what for, unless they wanted to check her compatibility with Mom. Would Mom need a transfusion? She had never thought to look up Mom’s blood type to see if they were a match. Probably not, she thought. They hadn’t been compatible in anything, ever.

  Once they had finished with everything, Nurse Carla wheeled Lois into another little cubicle. She adjusted the gurney so that Lois was in a sitting position when Dr. Johnson came through the curtain. He didn’t waste any words, smothering her with a hug straight away. “Oh thank God,” he said. “When they called and said what happened, I thought—”

  “I’m fine,” Lois said into his shoulder. “What about Mom?”

  “They’re still working on her. How’s your head?”

  “Getting better,” Lois said, looking over at the nurse. She waited for the nurse to leave before she began crying again. Dr. Johnson patted her head, careful not to touch the lump made by the smelly man’s gun. “It’s my fault.”

  “Don’t say that, Lois. You didn’t do anything.”

  “I should have warned her. I should have gone straight up there instead of trying to call for help.”

  “Hey, come on. You just did what you thought was best.”

  “They might not have gotten her if I hadn’t been so stupid. If I had warned her, she might have hidden somewhere. She might be OK.”

  Dr. Johnson tipped her chin up to look her in the eye. “Or they might have killed both of you. Ever think of that?”

  “Yes.”

  He rubbed her back the way Mom had used to do when she wanted to comfort Lois, as she had in the diner. “There’s no point worrying about it. All we can do right now is pray that your mom pulls through.”

  Lois thought of the files she had seen from Dr. Pavelski. Mom was already in rough shape. The doctor had said Mom’s internal organs were still strong, so maybe she could beat this. Or maybe years of long hours spent worrying about her prodigal daughter and the museum would leave her too weak to survive.

  The nurse brought in a clipboard loaded to bursting with forms for Lois to fill out. Much of the information she didn’t know. What kind of insurance did Mom have? Did it still cover Lois? Some of it like her Social Security number she hadn’t used—at least not her real one—in so long that she couldn’t remember. Dr. Johnson helped her fill in some of the blanks.

  One
question she stared at for a long time. “Richard, do you know if Mom wanted…if she wanted to be resuscitated?”

  “I never asked her about that, I’m afraid. She might have left something in the house.”

  The horrible reality began to sink in for Lois. Right now she was responsible for her mother. Mom didn’t have any other living relatives, leaving her screw-up daughter with de facto power of attorney. So long she had wanted everyone to treat her like an adult and now she might have to decide between life and death. “Oh God,” she said and began to sob.

  “It’s OK,” Richard said. “Maybe it won’t come up. Maybe your mom will pull through.”

  Dr. Pavelski chose that moment to brush the curtain aside. She was wearing green scrubs that had some blood—Mom’s no doubt—splattered on them. More telling was her expression, like a prolonged wince. “Lois, we did everything we could for your mom—”

  “She’s dead? You bitch!” With more speed and agility than even she thought possible, Lois sprang from the table. Dr. Johnson caught her, wrestling her back onto the table.

  “Lois, stop it! That’s not what your mother would want. Understand?” Dr. Johnson employed a Glare of his own, one just as effective as Mom’s.

  “I’m sorry,” Lois whispered. “I’m sure you tried.”

  “She’s alive, Lois,” the doctor said. “She’s critical, but she’s still alive.”

  “Then why are you looking like that? Why did you say you did what you could for her?”

  Dr. Pavelski risked taking Lois’s hand. She gave it a squeeze. “One of the bullets hit your mom’s spine. We did the best we could for her, but I’m afraid that even if she pulls through this, she’s never going to walk again.”

  The next thing Lois remembered, Dr. Johnson and the bald doctor from earlier were holding her down while the nurse jabbed a needle in her arm. Then she fell asleep.

  Chapter 9

  The hospital could have charged her with assault for nearly wringing the life out of Dr. Pavelski. The doctor refused to press charges, though. She was recovering in a room down the hall, but other than a little laryngitis she was fine. At least that’s what Dr. Johnson said. Lois couldn’t remember anything except the nurse giving her a shot.