Greedy Bones Part 15

"Tinkie," I said as I rubbed her back. "Oscar is tough. He's made it this far. If he can make it a little longer, he'll pull through this."

"Why didn't he ask for me?" She wasn't jealous, just hurt.

"Because he knows you're guarding him. I'm the one who has to solve this. If he has information about the cause of the illness, he'll tell me. Oscar would do anything to keep you safe, which means keeping you out of that room."

She pushed her hair out of her face. "I don't want you to come down sick, Sarah Booth."

"I'm healthy as a horse and you know it. You haven't slept in days. You're on the verge of a complete physical, emotional, and mental breakdown."

"I am not." She straightened her posture. "I just like hanging out at the hospital so I can flirt with the doctors."

That one act of bravery was almost my undoing. Worn to the bone, Tinkie had more courage than anyone I knew.

"Sarah Booth, we need to suit up." Doc gently took Tinkie by the shoulders. He kissed her cheek. "We'll figure this out, Tinkie. Don't give up yet."

14.

The suit that Doc gave me was like something from a Star Trek episode. I wondered if Oscar, if he returned to consciousness from the coma, would recognize me.

"What, exactly, did Oscar say?" I asked Doc as I fastened the Velcro tabs.

"The seizure forced us to remove the ventilator. While he was struggling, he said your name."

"Anything else?"

"No."

"What should I do?" I felt helpless.

"Talk to him," Doc said. "Touch him lightly. Let him know you're drawing him back to this world."

I'd never talked theology with Doc, but his sentiments were clear. Oscar was hovering somewhere between life and the other side. I was to bring him back to the world of mortals. Too bad no one had given me a cape or magic powers. "Inadequate" didn't begin to describe my feelings.

"I'll try." The suit made me sound like some kind of wheezy insect-man.

The door to the isolation ward swished open, and I stepped into what looked like an airlock. Another door opened automatically onto the room where four very sick people appeared to sleep.

As I pa.s.sed Gordon I lightly touched his shoulder. "You have to get well," I told him. Gordon was the only victim who remained on a ventilator. Regina and Luann breathed on their own. Though I had no medical training, they appeared to have more color and their sores seemed to be healing. Or it could just be they were less under the glare of unforgiving fluorescent lights.

As I approached his bed, Oscar moaned and one leg twitched. That had to be a good sign. He could move. He wasn't paralyzed.

My gloved fingertips grazed his cheek. "Oscar, it's me, Sarah Booth."

I dared a look at Tinkie, who watched each second with breathless hope from behind the gla.s.s. My stomach knotted, and I stroked Oscar's hand, avoiding the needles and tubes attached to every possible artery.

"Oscar, Tinkie said you wanted to talk to me."

His chest moved up and down so shallowly, I wondered if the ventilator shouldn't be reinserted. "Oscar?"

I needed a response. One that would let Tinkie know he was sound of mind and that the fever hadn't destroyed his brain function.

Moving to the side of the bed, I lifted his hand and held it on top of mine. "Oscar, I'm here. I'm here because you asked for me. You have something to tell me?"

It seemed an hour pa.s.sed with only the rasp of his labored breathing, but it was only seconds. I watched his face for any change of expression--for some indication that he was aware of me.

"Oscar, Tinkie is not twenty feet away. She's watching you. The only time she leaves your side is when we force her to rest or eat. If you're here, and if you can respond, signal with your hand."

The bandages had been removed from his eyes, and though they didn't open, I thought I saw the eyeb.a.l.l.s shift left, then right. His index finger scratched my palm.

"Oh, Oscar." I wept then. I couldn't stop it. He was there, trapped in that body ravaged by pain and disease. He hadn't gone away.

His finger moved again, a light tap against the base of my forefinger. He was trying to comfort me, and that prompted me to get a grip on my emotions.

"Oscar, if you don't get better, and soon, I'm going to have to kill you." It sounded peculiar, but he knew what I meant. "Tinkie is about to worry herself to death. Gordon is very sick, as are two realtors. Do you have any idea what happened to you?"

One tap of his finger on my palm.

"You went to the Carlisle plantation?"

Two taps. A yes. He was communicating! But I had to test it to be sure.

"Shall I tell Tinkie that you love her?"

The finger tapped twice, with emphasis. He tried to grasp my hand, but he was too weak.

"It's okay. I'll tell her," I promised. "But we have to talk about what happened. You went to the plantation. Everything in the house was in order." I went over the facts as I knew them, and he confirmed them.

"And when you went out to walk the fields, you discovered the cotton was infested with boll weevils."

Two solid taps.

"Did you talk to anyone there?"

One tap. His lips pursed, and he made a dry rasping sound in his throat. I frantically waved to Doc. "Can he have some water?"

"I'd love it if he'd drink," Doc said. He disappeared through the airlock doors and came back with a gla.s.s and a straw. He wore the same hazmat suit that I wore, which made both of us a little clumsy, but Doc was able to put the straw to Oscar's lips. Oscar drew in a small amount of water and swallowed.

"Who did you see?" I was pressing him, but this might be the break we needed to find the source of his illness.

"Bugs." The word rasped out of his throat. "Cotton."

Doc frowned at me. He indicated the monitors, which showed elevated blood pressure and a spike in heart rate. My time with Oscar was limited.

"Did you see anyone there?"

His finger tapped once. His hand went limp and slipped from mine. His eyes darted wildly behind the closed lids before they rolled upward.

"He's gone," Doc said.

I froze. "No." It couldn't be. Not like that. Not after he'd come back to us.

Doc took my arm and moved me away.

"Wait, Doc. He can't be--"

"He's asleep, Sarah Booth," Doc said in a gentle voice. "He's exhausted by communicating with you."

Sweet relief. Oscar wasn't dead, he was only resting. I punched Doc in the arm. "You need to learn better phrasing."

"Do you realize what you did, Sarah Booth?" he asked, his face beaming behind the clear mask of his suit.

"What?"

"You brought Oscar back. You drew him out of that coma back to reality."

"He'll get well now?"

Doc looked at Tinkie, her face and hands pressed to the gla.s.s, watching her husband. "I can't say. Sometimes, a patient makes a rally, to deliver a final . . ." My expression stopped him. "At least there's no apparent brain damage. Not yet. If we can find a way to fight this, I believe they all stand a chance of recovering. That's a lot better than I felt this morning."

Doc didn't feel better for long. As we were stripping off the hazmat suits, I told him about Cece's disappearance.

"Do you have any idea who's behind this?" His face was strained. "Oscar and three others have contracted some illness. Now Cece has possibly been abducted. This has to stop. Does Tinkie know about Cece?"

The thought of telling her was intolerable. "No. Maybe I'll wait. Until we know something positive."

"She can't bear a lot more," he said.

If I was reading Doc's signals correctly, he wanted me to withhold the news of Cece's disappearance. A lie of omission didn't sit well, but the thought of sending Tinkie deeper into anxiety was worse.

"Point taken," I said.

"If there's any flak, I'll bear the brunt of it."

Exhaustion mixed with relief made me lean against the wall. "Oscar is still there. That's the report I'll give Tinkie."

When Doc didn't respond, I felt the weight of his doubts. His faith in a medical cure had been shaken. While he practiced the art of healing, he relied on science to direct his skills. So far, science was thwarting him.

Tinkie waited outside the door. "He knew you! What did he say?"

"He's trying to help us."

"Thank goodness." She almost hummed with tension. "I was so afraid the high fever had damaged his brain."

I circled her with one arm and held her against my side, and we stood that way for nearly a minute.

At last she spoke. "He drank some water. You held his hand. Thank you, Sarah Booth. What did he tell you?"

I hesitated. "Things at the Carlisle place seemed normal, except for the weevils. It's apparent he went out into the cotton."

"And there wasn't a trace of evidence in the field?"

This was a sticky point, since Gordon had investigated the plantation after Oscar became ill. Before Gordon's report had been filed, he'd fallen sick. Only Bonnie Louise and Peyton had actually been on the Carlisle property since then.

"I need to examine the area," I said.

"You can't. It's too dangerous."

Arguing was pointless, and I didn't intend to stress Tinkie more. In my heart, though, I knew there was no other way. Someone had to go. While Bonnie Louise and Peyton might have the equipment, they didn't have the personal motivation that I did.

"One way or the other, we'll find an answer." If I had to beat it out of Luther Carlisle or Jimmy Janks--once we found him.

The worst possibility crossed my mind. What if Janks had dumped Cece at the plantation? What if she was lying there now, sick or dying because of exposure to something we couldn't identify?

"I've got to get some rest," I said, edging down the hall.

"You aren't fooling me, Sarah Booth. I know that look. You're going to do something dangerous."

"No, I'm really exhausted. I was headed to bed when Coleman showed up and . . ."

"And what?"

"And asked me to help him." My answer was feeble and wouldn't satisfy Tinkie for longer than two minutes. "I really have to go."

"What did Coleman need your help on?"

I waved a hand. "A lead."

"You're hiding something."

If I didn't get away, she'd break me and I'd spill everything I knew. "Please, Tinkie. I'm beat."

I couldn't discern if it was pity or exhaustion that slipped across her features. "We'll talk tomorrow. If you do anything that endangers your life, Sarah Booth, we're finished. No more partners. No more friends. If something happens to you--"

She focused her attention on Oscar, her mouth set in a firm line.

I found myself stranded outside the hospital with no wheels. Coleman had dropped me off, and in my desperation to get away before I spilled my guts about Cece, I'd forgotten to borrow Tinkie's Caddy. Going back inside wasn't an option.

The night was cool and sweet, lightly scented with an early magnolia on the crisp air. Above me, the stars glittered sharply. In high school I'd learned what made them sparkle. I couldn't remember such a long-ago lesson, nor did I want to. I preferred to enjoy the magic of their beauty.

Finding a ride home was almost more than I could manage. I could call Millie, but then I'd have to tell her Cece was missing and she'd spend the night worried. She had a cafe to run that demanded her full attention.

Harold was a possibility. Always urbane and never fussy, he would dress and pick me up with nary a complaint.