moving Stella in to a pediatric mental health facility.” Anne spoke in a low calming voice as she sat next to the grief-stricken mother in the waiting room. “She can’t go home with you. She is unstable and needs professional supervision twenty-four-seven.”
Mrs. McGuire looked up at Anne with such hopelessness. Her hair was in a matted bun, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from the constant flow of tears and her ha nds wrapped in flesh-colored dressings, a constant reminder of the violence displayed by her one and only child.
“Right now, Stella needs to sleep and so do you. I’ll come back tomorrow morning before rounds and speak with her but you need to get some rest. She needs you to be strong, okay?”
Mrs. McGuire nodded in agreement.
Casey and Anne walke d through the corridors that led to the main bank of elevators. It was close to midnight so the only people roaming around were the overnight medical staff.
“I’m going to have to make some phone calls tomorrow morning and find a facility close to the ir home that has room for a ten-year-old.”
“How sad for a single mother. Where is the father anyway?” Casey asked, fiddling with her loose hair.
“In Indiana with his brand-new shiny family.”
“I see. Let me guess, the new step-mommy is a nice perky early twenty-something year-old with a forty triple-D chest but a brain the size of my pinkie finger.” Casey held up her finger.
“You got it. Love it how they all want the newest upgrades once they hit that mid-life crisis age.”
They exited the hospital to the front parking lot. Anne texted Adam when she had arrived. He thanked her and wanted to be clear that they needed to finish their conversation. Anne desperately wanted to tell Casey about her newest revelation; she needed to confide in someone.
“Are you heading back up to the cabin?” Casey asked.
“No,” she replied, swallowing her hysterics.
Anne’s hand suddenly ceased in motion as her body kept moving forward, throwing her off balance.
“Wait one minute! Where’s your ring?”
Casey latched on to her hand like a lobster claw.
“I left it at the cabin.”
It wasn’t a lie; she had left it up there but not by accident. Casey arched her thin, manicured eyebrow.
“All right, spill it; I know something’s going on. I could tell the second you arrived.”
“It’s a really, really long story and I would rather not tell you out here.”
Anne scanned the parking lot as if she were in some covert mission.
“Wait, should I have a martini in my system first?”
Anne couldn’t help but laugh.
“Probably wouldn’t hurt.”
“Let’s go to Nicollet’s,” Casey said.
Anne agreed and they both returned to their cars to head back to downtown Minneapolis.
Nicollet’s décor was an inspired loft theme. It had an open concept with exposed brick and duct work but the furnishings were glamorous and sophisticated. Each section consisted of ivory-covered seats with a small round black wooden table and rectangular ivory sheaths that hung from the ceiling, creating a provocative partition. The ambiance was thick with conversation and excitement, even though it was nearing closing time. Anne and Casey found an empty table and sat down. A thin blonde waitress approached them.
“Two dirty martinis.” Casey had to raise her voice over the parade of laughter surrounding them. The waitress nodded and scampered over to the bar.
Casey continued. “I want all the details. Leave nothing out.”
Anne took a deep breath. “Carter is alive; he had Sam deliver the note. Adam was hired to play my doting boyfriend. Carter’s father owes a whole lot of money to a powerful and dangerous family and now they want Carter dead, again,” Anne blurted out.
In the midst of Anne’s confession the waitress brought over their martinis.
“I swear, Anne— only you.”
Anne also gulped the warm clear alcohol, letting it fill her veins. She continued with her story, reliving each moment.