“Can she truly fly like a bird?” Marigold asked.
“Or jump like a cat?” This came from someone in the back.
Ellie had to remind herself that these people were her constituents. More than that, they were her friends and neighbors. “We don’t have any answers yet. I’ll let you all know when we do. For now, I could use your help.”
“Anything,” Marigold said, pulling a flower-spangled notebook out of her purple vinyl handbag.
Violet offered her sister a tulip pen.
“The child will need clothes and such. Maybe a stuffed animal or two to keep her company,” Ellie said. Before she’d even finished, the Grimm sisters had taken over. The three ex-teachers corralled the group and started delegating tasks.
Ellie and Peanut left the crowd. Together, they walked up the concrete path to the hospital’s glass doors. The sliders whooshed open.
“Hey, Ellie,” said the receptionist at their approach. “Dr. Cerrasin is waiting for you at the old day care center.”
“Thanks,” Ellie said.
She and Peanut didn’t speak as they walked down the hallway and into the elevator. On the second floor, they went past the X-ray room and turned left.
The last room on the right had once been a day care center for employees. It had been designated and designed years ago, when the city coffers were full. In the time since the spotted owl and the dwindling salmon runs and the protection of old growth forests, those accounts had grown too thin to support luxuries like day care. The room had been empty and unmanned for more than two years.
Max stood in the hallway with his arms crossed. Fluorescent lighting tangled in his hair and made his ever-present tan look faded. She hadn’t seen him look this bad since the time he fell forty feet down some mountain. Then, he’d had two black eyes and a split lip.
At their approach, he looked up and waved, but didn’t bother smiling. He moved sideways to make room for them at the window.
The room beyond was small and rectangular, with red and yellow color-blocked walls and cubbyholes full of toys and games and books. A sink and counter took up one corner, used years ago, no doubt, for art projects and daily clean up. Several small tables surrounded by even smaller chairs filled the center of the room. Along the left wall were a single hospital bed and several empty cribs. There were two windows in the room. The one in front of them and a second, smaller one which overlooked the rear parking lot. To their left, a locked metal door was the only entrance.
Ellie sidled close, letting her shoulder touch his arm. “Talk to me, Max.”
“Last night, after we finished the testing, we diapered her and tucked her into the bed. This morning when she woke up, she went crazy. There’s no other word for it: crazy. Screaming, shrieking, throwing herself to the floor. She broke every lamp and smashed the mirror over the sink. When we tried to give her another injection, she bit Carol Rense hard enough to draw blood, then hid under the bed. She’s been there almost an hour. Do you have an ID on her yet?”
Ellie shook her head, then turned to Peanut. “Why don’t you go to the cafeteria? Get kid food for her.”
“Sure, send the fat girl for food.” Peanut sighed dramatically, but couldn’t help smiling. She loved to be a part of things.
When she’d gone, Max said to Ellie, “I don’t know what to tell you, Ellie. I’ve never seen a case like this.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
“Well … I think she’s probably about six years old.”
“But she’s so small.”
“Malnourished. Plus, she’s had no dental or medical care, and her body is pretty scarred up.”
“Scarred?”
“Little things mostly, although there’s one that looks more serious. On her left shoulder. Maybe an old knife wound.”
“Jesus.”
“I drew blood and swabbed her mouth for DNA. If it were up to me, she’d still be sedated for hydration, but you wanted a diagnosis.…”
“Has she spoken?”
“No, but her vocal cords look unimpaired. I’d say—and this is just a guess—that she is physically able to speak, but I can’t tell if she knows how.”
“She doesn’t know how to speak? What are you saying?”
“All I know is that her screams are unintelligible. I recorded it. There were no recognizable words. Her brain waves show no anomalies. She could well be deaf or mentally challenged or severely developmentally delayed or autistic. I can’t be sure. I’m not even sure I know what tests to run for her mental state.”
“What should we do?”
“Find out who she is.”
“Gee, thanks. I meant right now.”
He nodded toward Peanut, who was coming toward them with a tray of food. “That’s a good start.”
Ellie looked down at what Pea had chosen: a stack of pancakes, a pair of fried eggs, a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream, and a glass of milk. It made Ellie hungry.