The Shadow Wife

Quickly, the two of them got out of the car and exchanged places. Once Carlynn was in the driver’s seat, though, she understood why Lisbeth had panicked. The road was gone. Even the foliage along the side of the road was hidden.

“Yikes,” she said. “I see what you mean.” Putting the car in gear, she began inching it forward. The fog was far worse than it had been the day she’d driven to the commune, and if there had been a way to turn around on the narrow, winding road, she would have. But they were stuck now.

“So,” Lisbeth said, “were you tempted?”

“Tempted?”

“To sleep with someone at the commune?”

“Lisbeth! Are you crazy?” She stole a quick glance at her sister. “Of course not. Would you be?”

“No, but I was just wondering if, you know, the atmosphere would have gotten to you after a week. You said Penny was doing it with everyone.”

“But Penny’s always been that way. I hope she doesn’t get herself preg—”

“Carlynn!” Lisbeth shouted. “Watch out!”

The headlights of a car were directly in front of them, in their lane, and Carlynn had no choice but to quickly swerve to the left to avoid crashing head-on into the vehicle. The Volkswagen skidded on the wet pavement, sending them sliding across the road, and Carlynn knew the second the wheels left the pavement. Something crashed into the bottom of the car, which tipped precariously, teetering for a moment on the edge of an unseen precipice, and then they were falling.

Lisbeth tried to grab the wheel from her in a futile attempt to save them, but it was too late.

Carlynn caught her sister’s arm. “Oh my God, Lizzie!” she screamed. “I’m sorry. The road…”

She thought the car was falling sideways, although she couldn’t have said for certain, because every window offered only a view of fog. But she felt a jolt as they hit something, some outcropping from the cliff. She heard Lisbeth scream once more, and then, suddenly, the world was still and dark.

36

ONLY PAUL WAS SITTING AT THEIR USUAL LUNCH TABLE, EVEN though Joelle was late getting to the cafeteria. She carried her tray to the table, glancing over her shoulder to see if Liam might have been in the line behind her, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Paul stood up and pulled a chair out for her, and she laughed.

“I’m looking that pregnant, am I?” she asked.

“Just trying to be chivalrous,” Paul said. “When are you due, again?”

“New Year’s Day,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. How could I forget that?”

“I’m thirty weeks today,” she said.

“You look great,” Paul said.

“Thanks. Where’s Liam?” She tried to sound only mildly curious.

“He’s had a rough morning in the E.R.,” Paul said. “It’s been like a Saturday night down there.”

She popped a prenatal vitamin into her mouth and swallowed it with a few sips of milk. “And how are your units today?” she asked.

“Not bad, actually. How about yours?”

Her pager buzzed as he asked the question, and she looked down to see the E.R.’s number on the display.

“Speak of the devil,” she said.

“E.R.?” he asked as she got to her feet.

She nodded. “Be right back.”

She walked over to the wall phone near the cafeteria exit and dialed the number for the E.R.

It was Liam who picked up on the other end. “Are you in the cafeteria, Jo?” he asked.

“Yes. What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to drag you away from lunch, but I could really use your help down here. I have a couple of accident victims I’m tied up with, and a woman just came in who looks pretty beaten up, but says she just fell. Any chance you could see her?”

“Sure. I’ll be right there.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

She hung up the phone and returned to the table, but didn’t take her seat again.

“Just leave this here for me in case this doesn’t take too long, okay?” she asked Paul, pointing to her tray.

“I’m almost done, Joelle,” he said. “Want me to take the E.R. case for you?”

“That’s all right,” she said. “It’s a possible battered woman, so it’s probably better if I do it. But thanks for offering.” She gave him a quick wave of her hand. “Have a good afternoon.”

From the hallway of the E.R., she could see into the waiting room, and Paul had been right. It looked like a weekend night in there. Mothers bounced irritable babies on their knees, a couple of kids held ice packs to their legs, and several men slouched in their chairs, looking in the direction of the reception desk, waiting for their names to be called.

A nurse spotted Joelle and walked toward her, handing her a chart.

“She’s in four,” she said. “Bart stitched her up and set her broken arm and tried to get her to admit what happened, but she insists she fell down the stairs.” The nurse shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she did. But we didn’t want to let her go until one of you guys had a chance to assess her. She wants to get out of here, though. I’m not sure how much longer we can keep her.”

Joelle nodded, glancing quickly through the thin chart. Twenty-four-year-old Caucasian woman. Katarina Parsons. She didn’t bother trying to read Bart’s nearly illegible notes. She’d get the story soon enough.