Chapter 12
I was still at the library when my phone buzzed, but when mom's number was on the screen I answered quickly, ignoring the librarian's deadly gaze.
"Hey mom," I said, smiling.
"Hi sweetie!" she responded.
"How's are you?"
"Oh I'm good! New York is very exhausting…but I should be home soon. The auction finished earlier than I thought."
I looked around for a clock. I wanted to stop by the hospital and see Nudge before heading home.
"Here's the deal," I told my mom. "I need to visit Nudge. I might be a few minutes late. I'll hurry—I promise."
"Of course." I detected the tiniest disappointment. "Any updates? I got your message this morning about her surgery."
"Surgery is over. They're taking her to a private room any minute now."
"Max." I heard the swell of emotion in her voice. "I'm so glad it wasn't you. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you. Especially since your dad—" She broke off. "I'm just glad we're both safe. Say hi to Nudge for me. See you soon. Hugs and kisses."
"Love you, Mom."
Coldwater's Regional Medical Center is a three story redbrick structure with a covered walkway leading up to the main entrance. I passed through the revolving glass doors and stopped at the main desk to inquire about Nudge. I was told she'd been moved to a room half an hour ago, and that visiting hours ended in fifteen minutes. I located the elevators and punched the button to send me up a floor.
At room 207 I pushed on the door.
"Nudge?" I coaxed a bouquet of balloons inside behind me, crossed the small foyer, and found Nudge reclining in bed, her left arm in a cast and slung across her body.
"Hi!" I said when I saw she was awake.
Nudge expelled a luxurious sigh. "I love drugs. Really. They're amazing." I laughed at her comment.
"So?" I asked Nudge. "What's the verdict?"
"The verdict? My doctor is a lard arse. Closely resembles an Oompa Loompa. Don't give me your severe look. Last time he came in, he broke into the Funky Chicken. And he's forever eating chocolate.
Mostly chocolate animals. You know the solid chocolate bunnies they're selling for Easter? That's what the Oompa Loompa ate for dinner. Had a chocolate duck at lunch with a side of yellow Peeps." I snorted and shook my head.
"I meant the verdict…" I pointed at the medical paraphernalia adorning her.
"Oh. One busted arm, a concussion, and assorted cuts, scrapes, and bruises. Fortunately for my quick reflexes, I jumped out of the way before any major damage was done. When it comes to reflexes, I'm like a cat," she smiled.
"I'm so sorry," I told Nudge sincerely. "I should be the one in the hospital bed."
"And get all the drugs? Uh- uh. No way."
"Have the police found any leads?" I asked.
"Nada," I responded in spanish,
"No eyewitnesses?"
"We were at a cemetery in the middle of a rainstorm," Nudge pointed out. "Most normal people were indoors."
She was right. Most normal people had been indoors. Of course, Nudge and I had been out … along with the mysterious girl who followed her out of Victoria's Secret.
"How did it happen?" I asked.
"I was walking to the cemetery like we planned, when all of a sudden I heard footsteps closing in behind me," Nudge explained. "That's when I looked back, and everything came together really fast. There was the flash of a gun, and him lunging for me. Like I told the cops, my brain wasn't exactly transmitting, 'Get a visual ID.' It was more like, 'Holy freak show, I'm about to go splat!' He growled, whacked me three or four times with the gun, grabbed my handbag, and ran."
I was more confused than ever. "Wait. It was a guy? You saw his face?"
"Of course it was a guy. He had dark eyes … charcoal eyes. But that's all I saw. He was wearing a ski mask."
At the mention of the ski mask, my heart skittered through several beats. It was the same guy who'd jumped in front of the Neon, I was sure of it. I hadn't imagined him—Nudge was proof. I remembered the way all evidence of the crash had disappeared. Maybe I hadn't imagined that part either. This guy, whoever he was, was real. And he was out there. But if I hadn't imagined the damage to the Neon, what really happened that night? Was my vision, or my memory, somehow…being altered?
"Who'd you tell we went shopping?" I asked curiously.
"My mom," she responded, biting her lip. Oh great…
"Who else?" I asked.
"I think I mentioned it to…Dylan," she squeaked out the last part. Oh dear lord. I pinched the bridge of my nose, closed my eyes and sighed.
"Why?"
"Why what?" she asked.
"Did you tell that dick?" I sighed. She just shrugged. Okay time to come clean…
"Remember the night I drove the Neon home and hit a deer?"
"Yeah?" she said, frowning.
"It wasn't a deer. It was a guy. A guy in a ski mask."
"Shut up," she whispered. "You're telling me my attack wasn't random? You're telling me this guy wants something from me? No, wait. He wants something from you. I was wearing your jacket. He thought I was you."
My stomach lurched and my knees shook but I stayed up.
After a count of silence, she said, "Are you sure you didn't tell Fang about shopping? Because on further reflection, I'm thinking the guy had Fang's build. Tallish. Leanish. Strongish. Sexyish, aside from the attacking part."
"Fang's eyes aren't charcoal, they're black," I pointed out. "And I like hell I'd tell him where I went."
Nudge raised an indecisive shoulder. "Maybe his eyes were black. I can't remember. It happened really fast. I can be specific about the gun," she said helpfully. "It was aimed at me. Like, right at me."
If Fang had attacked Nudge, he must have seen her leave the store wearing my jacket and thought it was me. When he figured out he was following the wrong girl, he hit Nudge with the gun out of anger and vanished. The only problem was, I couldn't imagine Fang brutalizing Nudge. It felt off. Besides, he was supposedly at a party on the coast all night. Oh and if he was my best friend's attacker…let's hope he's not in a dark alley…
"Did your attacker look at all like Dylan?" I asked.
I watched Nudge absorb the question. Whatever drug she'd been given, it seemed to slow her thought process, and I could practically hear each gear in her brain grind into action.
"He was about twenty pounds too light and four inches too tall to be Dylan."
"This is all my fault," I said. "I never should have let you leave the store wearing my jacket." It's true.
"I know you don't want to hear this," said Nudge, looking like she was fighting a drug induced yawn. "But the more I think on it, the more similarities I see between Fang and my attacker. Same build. Same long legged stride. Too bad his school file was empty. We need an address. We need to canvass his neighborhood. We need to find a gullible little granny neighbor who could be coaxed into mounting a webcam in her window and aiming it at his house. Because something about Fang just isn't right."
"You honestly think Fang could have done this to you?" I asked, still unconvinced. He wouldn't right?
Nudge chewed at her lip. "I think he's hiding something. Something big."
I wasn't going to argue that. I nodded in agreement.
She sank deeper in her bed. "My body's tingling. I feel good all over."
"We don't have an address," I said, "but we do know where he works."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Nudge asked, eyes brightening briefly through the haze of chemical sedation.
"Based on past experience, I hope not."
"The truth is, we need to brush up on our sleuthing skills," said Nudge. "Use them or lose them, that's what Coach said. We need to find out more about Fang's past. Hey, I bet if we document, Coach will even give us extra credit."
Highly doubtful, given that if Nudge was involved, the sleuthing would likely take an illegal turn. Not to mention, this particular sleuthing job had nothing to do with biology. Even remotely.
The slight smile Nudge had dragged out of me faded. Fun as it was to be lighthearted about the situation, I was frightened. The guy in the ski mask was out there, planning his next attack. It kind of made sense that Fang might know what was going on. The guy in the ski mask jumped in front of the Neon the day after Fang became my biology partner. Maybe it wasn't a coincidence.
Just then the nurse popped her head inside the door. "It's eight o'clock," she told me, tapping her watch.
"Visiting hours are over."
"I'll be right out," I said.
As soon as her footsteps faded down the hall, I shut the door to Nudge's room. I wanted privacy before I told her about the murder investigation surrounding Dylan. However, when I got back to Nudge's bed, it was apparent that her medication had kicked in.
"Here it comes," she said with an expression of pure bliss. "Drug rush…any moment now…the surge of warmth…bye bye, Mr. Pain…"
I said, "Call me tomorrow after you're discharged." She smiled and waved as I left. If only I could tell her about Dylan…
I pulled the Fiat into the garage and pocketed the keys. The sky lacked stars on the drive home, and sure enough, a light rain started to fall. I tugged on the garage door, lowering it to the ground and locking it.
I let myself into the kitchen. A light was on somewhere upstairs, and a moment later my mom came running down the stairs and threw her arms around me.
My mom has dark brown wavy hair and brown eyes. Mom's an inch taller. Besides that, she always smells heaven.
"I'm so glad you're safe," she said, squeezing me tight.
Safe ish, I thought.