Hush, Hush Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12
MY CELL PHONE BUZZED IN MY POCKET, AND after confirming I wasn’t being evileyed
by a
librarian, I answered. “Mom?” “Good news,” she said. “The auction wrapped up early. I got on the road
an hour ahead of schedule and should be home soon. Where are you?”
“Hi! I wasn’t expecting you until later. I’m just leaving the library. How was upstate New York?”
“Upstate New York was … long.” She laughed, but she sounded drained. “I can’t wait to see you.”
I looked around for a clock. I wanted to stop by the hospital and see Vee before heading home.
“Here’s the deal,” I told my mom. “I need to visit Vee. 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.”
“Nora.” 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 Vee for me. See you soon. Hugs and kisses.”
“Love you, Mom.”
Coldwater’s Regional Medical Center is a threestory
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 Vee. 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. “Vee?” I coaxed a bouquet of balloons inside behind me, crossed the
small foyer, and found Vee reclining in bed, her left arm in a cast and slung across her body.
“Hi!” I said when I saw she was awake.
Vee expelled a luxurious sigh. “I love drugs. Really. They’re amazing. Even better than an Enzo
cappuccino. Hey, that rhymed. Enzo cappuccino. It’s a sign. I’m destined to be a poet. Want to hear
another poem? I’m good at impromptu.”
“Uh—”
A nurse swished in and tinkered around with Vee’s IV. “Feeling okay?” she asked Vee.
“Forget being a poet,” Vee said. “I’m destined for standup
comedy. Knock, knock.”
“What?” I said.
The nurse rolled her eyes. “Who’s there?”
“Crab,” said Vee.
“Crab who?”
“Crab your towel, we’re going to the beach!”
“Maybe a little less painkillers,” I told the nurse.
“Too late. I just gave her another dose. Wait until you see her in ten minutes.” She swished back out the
door.
“So?” I asked Vee. “What’s the verdict?”
“The verdict? My doctor is a lardarse.
Closely resembles an OompaLoompa.
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 OompaLoompa
ate for dinner. Had a chocolate duck at lunch with a side of yellow Peeps.”
“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. I’m Catwoman. I’m invulnerable. The only reason he got a piece of me is because of the rain.
Cats don’t like water. It impairs us. It’s our kryptonite.”
“I’m so sorry,” I told Vee sincerely. “I should be the one in the hospital bed.”
“And get all the drugs? Uhuh.
No way.”
“Have the police found any leads?” I asked.
“Nada, zilch, zero.”
“No eyewitnesses?”
“We were at a cemetery in the middle of a rainstorm,” Vee pointed out. “Most normal people were
indoors.”
She was right. Most normal people had been indoors. Of course, Vee and I had been out … along with
the mysterious girl who followed Vee 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,” Vee 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—Vee 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?
After a moment, a slew of secondary questions raced to mind. What did he want this time? Was he
connected to the girl outside Victoria’s Secret? Had he known I’d be shopping at the pier? Wearing a
ski mask constituted advance planning, so he must have known beforehand where I’d be. And he didn’t
want me to recognize his face.
“Who did you tell we were going shopping?” I asked Vee suddenly.
She rammed a pillow behind her neck, trying to get comfortable. “My mom.”
“That’s it? Nobody else?”
“I might have brought it up to Elliot.”
My blood seemed to suddenly stop flowing. “You told Elliot?”
“What’s the big deal?”
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said soberly. “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 whole body felt leaden.
After a count of silence, she said, “Are you sure you didn’t tell Patch about shopping? Because on
further reflection, I’m thinking the guy had Patch’s build. Tallish. Leanish. Strongish. Sexyish, aside
from the attacking part.”
“Patch’s eyes aren’t charcoal, they’re black,” I pointed out, but I was uncomfortably aware that I had
told Patch we were going shopping at the pier.
Vee 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.”
I pushed a few puzzle pieces around my mind. If Patch had attacked Vee, 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 Vee with the gun out of anger and vanished. The only problem was, I couldn’t imagine Patch
brutalizing Vee. It felt off. Besides, he was supposedly at a party on the coast all night.
“Did your attacker look at all like Elliot?” I asked.
I watched Vee 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 Elliot.”
“This is all my fault,” I said. “I never should have let you leave the store wearing my jacket.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” said Vee, looking like she was fighting a druginduced
yawn. “But
the more I think on it, the more similarities I see between Patch and my attacker. Same build. Same
longlegged
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 Patch just isn’t right.”
“You honestly think Patch could have done this to you?” I asked, still unconvinced.
Vee chewed at her lip. “I think he’s hiding something. Something big.”
I wasn’t going to argue that.
Vee 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?” Vee 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 Vee. “Use them or lose them, that’s
what Coach said. We need to find out more about Patch’s past. Hey, I bet if we document, Coach will
even give us extra credit.”
Highly doubtful, given that if Vee 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 Vee 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 Patch might know what was going on. The guy in the ski mask jumped in front of the Neon the day
after Patch 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 Vee’s room. I wanted privacy before I
told her about the murder investigation surrounding Elliot. However, when I got back to Vee’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 … byebye, Mr. Pain …”
“Vee—”
“Knock, knock.”
“This is really important—”
“Knock, knock.”
“It’s about Elliot—”
“Knock, knoooock,” she said in a singsong voice.
I sighed. “Who’s there?”
“Boo.”
“Boo who?”
“Boohoo,
somebody’s crying, and it’s not me!” She broke into hysterical laughter.
Realizing it was pointless to push the issue, I said, “Call me tomorrow after you’re discharged.” I
unzipped my backpack. “Before I forget, I brought your homework. Where do you want me to put it?”
She pointed at the trash can. “Right there will be fine.”
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 wavy hair and green eyes. She’s an inch shorter than I am, but we share the same
bone structure. She always smells like Love by Ralph Lauren.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she said, squeezing me tight.
Safeish,
I thought.