Christine landed in Antigua approximately four hours later.
I’m so sick of this hotel/motel crap, she thought as she drove to the nearest hotel in a rented car. Seems like all I ever do anymore is travel. This is the last time I’ll be doing this sort of crap, once I bump off the old douche bag for good. I just can’t believe she wasn’t at the house when it blew.
At the hotel, she washed her face, pinned her hair back and covered it with a knitted beanie cap, then donned a pair of cheap drugstore reading glasses and drove to the nearest hospital.
At the hospital, Christine went to the nurses’ station.
“Hi, I’m Sharon Cruickshank,” Christine said to one nurse. “I’m Rose Hutchins’s great-niece. Rose is my maternal grandmother’s sister. I’m her only living relative and I just flew in straight from Miami as soon as I heard about what happened.”
“Hard to believe, huh?” the nurse said.
“I have never been so astounded and relieved as I was when the news broke. All those years, the family thought she was dead. Please, let me see her. Is she all right?”
“Well, based on what they’ve been saying on the news with updates regarding her condition,” the nurse said, “we know she’ll be okay, but she’s not here. She’s at St. John’s Medical Center, which is about twenty minutes across town.”
“Oh,” Christine said. She blushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I feel so stoopid.”
“Don’t be. I understand. I just hope security will let you through.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will. After all, I am her blood relative. Well, thank you so much. Your help is appreciated. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome and good luck.”
Christine sped to St. John’s Medical Center. She saw news vans and a throng of reporters when she entered the parking lot.
“Typical of rabid, news-hungry media hounds licking their chops,” Christine said. She shook her head in disgust as she parked her car.
“Excuse me, please,” she said as she wound her way through the crowd of reporters. “Pardon me. Thank you.”
She breezed through the automatic sliding doors and quickly took in the surroundings. The waiting area was off to her left, the nurses’ station to her right, and a long, wide corridor led to offices and examination rooms before her. Christine put on a nervous, worried expression, and sidled up to the nurses’ station.
“Hi,” she said to a group of three nurses who stood there. “Excuse me. I’m Michelle Ferguson, Rose Hutchins’s step-granddaughter. Rose is my late stepfather’s mother. I’m her only living relative and I just flew in straight from Chicago as soon as I heard about what happened.”
“May I see some identification, please?” the head nurse asked Christine.
Oh, damn! Christine thought. I should’ve thought that they might ask for an ID.
The head nurse noticed Christine’s momentary hesitation.
“It’s for security reasons, as you can see,” the head nurse said.
“Oh, uh . . .” Christine stammered nervously. “I see. Uh, just a sec, please.” She opened her handbag and fumbled within for her wallet. She pulled out her ID card and handed it to the head nurse.
“I have never been so astounded and relieved as I was when the news broke,” Christine said. “Please, let me see her. Is she all right?”
She looked away with nervous eyes and bit her lower lip. She felt like a fool for not having come prepared to be asked for identification.
“It says here your name is Christine Desirée Hutchins,” the head nurse said as she eyed Christine with suspicion.
“What? I’m sorry. Did I give you my name as Michelle Ferguson? Oh, pardon the flub. Michelle Ferguson is the name of a character I’ve been playing. I’m a stage actress. I do small theater and off-off-Broadway productions. I’m just starting out now that my modeling career is on hold.”
“Like grandmother, like granddaughter, eh?”
“Yeah, well, it goes with the territory, I guess,” Christine said with a shrug of indifference.
“All right,” the head nurse said with a nod. She handed the ID card back to Christine. “Take the elevator to the second floor, make a right at the first corner you come to, and she’ll be down the corridor to your left. You’ll see a security guard by the door. He’ll ask for identification.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Security is tight.”
“I understand. Thank you very much. I appreciate it.”
Christine stepped off the elevator on the second floor. She walked down the corridor and made a right at the first corner. She hesitated for a second when she saw the security guard by the door. Christine slowed her pace and took a deep breath.
“Hi, uh, I’m Christine Hutchins,” she reluctantly said to the security guard. She didn’t want to give her real name. “I’m Rose Hutchins’s step-granddaughter.” She pulled out her wallet and showed her ID card. “I just spoke with the head nurse who said I could come up and see the patient. This can be verified with her, if you have any questions, unless there’s a problem.”
The security guard closely scrutinized the ID card and nodded with consent. “Five minutes,” he said.
“Thanks.”
Christine gently pushed open the door and quietly stepped inside. A nurse sat on a chair by the bed and read a novel. She looked up and saw Christine.
“I’m her step-granddaughter,” Christine said. “I was granted permission to see her.”
The nurse nodded.
“I’d like to be alone,” Christine said, “if that’d be all right.”
“Just for a few minutes,” the nurse said and left.
Christine looked at Rose, who lay in bed with her eyes closed. It took all of Christine’s strength not to laugh when she observed Rose without her trademark turban.
Christine faked sadness as she approached the bed to get a closer look. She examined the heart monitor dials and the other medical equipment. She placed a finger and thumb on one dial. She shook her head with uncertainty and looked at the clear, plastic bag of saline hanging from the arm of the metal pole. She walked over to it, reached up, and gently squeezed the bag, then lowered her arm and placed her hand around the dial on the IV dispenser. She moved the dial a few notches with her thumb. The pace of drips increased. She turned the dial the other way which slowed the drips to its normal pace, then to a stop. She glanced at her watch and looked around the room.
Christine went to an empty bed on the other side and picked up a pillow, then returned to where Rose lay. She stood with her back to the door and held the pillow with both hands and slowly raised it to chest level.
The door opened and Christine froze.
“Your five minutes are up, ma’am,” the security guard said.
With her back still to the door, Christine pretended to choke back a tear. She hugged the pillow. She cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be right out.” She hugged the pillow again and drew in her shoulders with a sniffle. She heard the door slowly close.
Bastard, she thought.
She returned the pillow to the other bed, then went back to where she stood and gawked at Rose.
I don’t have a lot of time, Christine thought, and there’s no sense pushing my luck here, either. I’d still love to do her in with my bare hands, and I’d hate it if she were to die of natural causes, especially from her injuries. Well, I gotta get back and focus on getting my manuscript published.
“I’ll get back at’cha later, ya mangy old cur,” Christine said.