After the busy decorations in the hallway, the cancer ward chapel seemed plain and refreshing. There was no religion in here, so no actual decorations, not even a cross or Star of David. Instead, the small room had a simple stained-glass window, an empty altar, and two rows of short wooden pews. The room was always empty, except when it was needed. In my experience, though, when it was needed, it was really needed. I had personally spent hours here during Olivia’s last months, praying for some kind of a miracle, which was funny, since Olivia more or less got one.
I sat down in the back-row pew, my usual seat. It had only been a year or so since Olivia had “died,” but it felt like ten. I felt like a different person from the girl who’d prayed in this room. My parents had been regular churchgoers, but my brother and I were raised to make up our own minds whether or not we believed in God. It had taken me a few years to sort out my feelings, but I’d eventually decided I believed in God but didn’t believe in religion. I would keep faith on my own terms. It’s funny, but finding out that Hollywood movie monsters were real never shook my convictions. If God could create a platypus, why couldn’t he create a vampire? If AIDS could exist in God’s kingdom, why not lycanthropy?
No, it took Olivia to really make me wonder if there was a God.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the pressure-controlled door opening and closing. Sadie settled into the pew beside me, reaching over to pat my hand.
“Thanks for talking to me, Sadie.”
She patted again. “Don’t worry about it, Scarlett. You’re not the first relative to come back after it’s all over, wanting answers to more questions. Our perspective of death, of our family member’s death, it changes with time.”
You got that right, Sadie.
“Did you ever see a guy with Olivia, at the end?” I asked. “Average height, sort of weaselly looking?”
Sadie blinked at me, and there was suddenly a glint in her eye. “You found out about Al, did you?” she said coyly. “I figured you might. They tried so hard to keep it secret.” She shook her head. “I always figured they were just getting a kick out of that, sneaking around. Wasn’t like you’d mind, that your mom had a beau in her last few months.”
I had been right—Albert had been visiting Olivia at the hospital. I had about a thousand questions, but no idea where to start. “Was she…did she say how they met?”
Sadie frowned. “I never got a full story on that, but I assumed it was through the radiology specialist, Dr. Barton. Did you meet him?”
“There were so many specialists…”
“He stood out, though—had a scar going down his lip, right here”—she touched her lower lip like she was making a vertical mark on it. “Fell off a motorcycle, he told me once. He’s a very big deal in experimental oncology, though he’s based in New York, usually.”
A vague image of a sandy-haired guy with squinty little glasses came to mind. “I think I met him once or twice. Albert…Al…he knew Barton?”
“Worked for him, I think.” She shrugged. “At any rate, every time I saw Dr. Barton, Al was with him. Stayed real close, like he needed to hear every word Barton said.”
Or like Barton needed to hear every word Albert said. Albert had found a specialist for Olivia and pressed his mind to get her the treatment. “What did Barton do for…my mom?”
Sadie shook her head sadly. “He gave her some new experimental drug…Domincydactl, I believe it was called. It was a Hail Mary pass, sugar, and it didn’t work. They’ve discontinued the drug since then. Didn’t work for anyone, I guess.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“Your mom asked us to keep it private. She said she didn’t want you getting your hopes up about a one-in-a-million chance.”
Or she didn’t want me to know what she was planning. Had she suspected that I was on to her? Or was she just hedging her bets in case it really didn’t work? Whatever this drug was, it had either turned her or made it possible for Albert to turn her. It had honestly never occurred to me that nullness could be tempered chemically; I had assumed Olivia’s transformation had had something to do with magic. We all had.
“You okay, Scarlett?”
My attention had wandered. I worked to focus back on Sadie. “I think so.” I groped for something to say. “I’m…glad she found someone to be with, at the end.”
“So am I, sugar.” She patted my hand one more time and stood up. “Just remember, Miss Scarlett, your momma loved you. She was just devoted to you. I’m sure wherever she is now, she’s at peace.”
Not fucking likely.
Chapter 18
When Scarlett hung up, Jesse had looked at the phone in confusion for a moment, until Kirsten said, “Well, that was abrupt.”
They had hit a patch of traffic on the way back to LA, and he didn’t feel comfortable using the siren this time, since they were sort of at a loss for their next step. “Yes. I hope she’s not in trouble.”
“Hayne will look after her,” Kirsten said, with perfect confidence. Jesse decided not to mention that Scarlett had escaped from Dashiell’s mansion. “Do you think Scarlett was right,” Kirsten asked, “about Olivia trying to distract us from something?”
“Probably,” Jesse said grimly. He was lost in thought, half hypnotized by the brake-gas-brake-gas repetition of the traffic. “I do think we’re missing something big. We’ve been running around trying so hard to catch up to Olivia, we haven’t stopped to think. Scarlett suggested as much last night, but I thought she was just being paranoid.”
“Well, let’s go over it all again,” Kirsten suggested.
They started with Denise’s death, what little they knew about it. “I read the police file,” Jesse said. “Witnesses saw her packing up her things on the Promenade just before one in the morning. We—the police, that is—didn’t find any of it on the Promenade or the pier, so she must have loaded it in her car.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Kirsten nodding. “She had a special permit to park at the mall off the Promenade, I think.”
“Right. Olivia—I’m assuming it was Olivia, because she would’ve had the strength—must have taken her at the car.”
“Wait,” Kirsten objected. “That doesn’t make sense. Olivia is a vampire; she wouldn’t have wasted good blood, not when she could make it look accidental.”