Chapter 8

“The nurses say you haven’t been eating.”

I’m back in the doctor’s office. He wants one more chance to pick my brain, but I’ve told him everything I’m going to. I can’t raise my suspicions about D. Webster. He wouldn’t believe me, for one thing, and I’m not willing to give up my ace.

There’s an art to telling a good lie. It’s two parts truth, and one part falsehood. You have to mix it well enough that your audience swallows it whole. “I’m not exercising. You’re giving me the same rations I had when I was going to the fitness center.”

“Ah, that’s a good point.” He writes something on his ever-present notepad. His agreement comes almost too easily, telling me he’s going to start in with the questions he really wants answered.

He wants me to incriminate somebody that he can actually go after. Someone who isn’t a government employee. The scapegoat in this little fiasco has to be a person who can disappear easily, and who wouldn’t make the populace question its food supply.

I truly don’t believe C. Carmichael, the woman from the commissary, is culpable. Like most government employees, she most likely did as she was told and wasn’t curious enough to ask questions.

I want to ask him why I’m being poisoned. What is he putting in my food? It’s coincidental that the mouse died after eating what I’d given him. I have no evidence. The logical part of my brain tells me that, and reminds me that many chemicals safe for humans are poisonous to animals.

It’s too many coincidences, though.

He closes his notebook and rests his flabby chin in the cup of one hand. “We believe your system is cleared of the drugs you took, N. Reynolds. I’m prepared to release you to your partner this afternoon, but I must ask you once more to tell me where you got the tainted meds. It’s important that we get him or her off the streets before they hurt someone else.”

“I agree completely.” I nod and twist my hands in my robe to stop myself from clutching my oleander flower. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you any more than I already have.”

“That isn’t enough,” he protests. “There must have been someone else.”

“Doctor, you can check the video feeds of my movements. I don’t deviate from my routine.”

“You did the night before you got sick. You chose a partner at the socialization center, then went to visit him the next day.”

“Very true. Except I’d never met him before that.”

“I also must ask why you went to a socialization center if you already have a permanent partner. Surely, he meets your physical needs.”

I see the light of understanding glimmer in his eyes and he stares at me without saying another word. I’m not sure what he understands though.

He coughs uncomfortably. “Of course. I believe your health is restored, N. Reynolds. You’re free to go as soon as your partner arrives. I’m afraid you’ll be required to stay under his supervision for the next several days to ensure you don’t encounter any other foreign substances.”

The request isn’t unexpected. I don’t want to believe that anyone is purposely trying to harm me, but too many things aren’t adding up. “When will he arrive?” I ask.

“Shortly after lunch.” He calls for the orderlies, staring at me for the few seconds it takes them to retrieve me. When I turn to leave, he calls out, “Don’t take any more unauthorized meds, N. Reynolds.”

I stop, but don’t turn around. “I have no intention of it,” I say. The orderlies escort me back to my room. I stare out the window, wondering if I’m safer here, or with D. Webster.

No, Danny. I need to get used to calling him by his first name until I can figure a way out of this mess. I try not to play with the oleander charm. It’s not in my best interest to develop a tell.

A nurse brings a dress for me after lunch. I haven’t worn a dress in years. Pants or shorts are much more convenient. It’s made of finely woven hemp dyed a pale pink and scattered with flowers. It’s a garment someone might wear to a wedding, if there were such things anymore. “Where did this come from?” I ask.

“Your partner brought it.” She gives me a cheerful smile. “It’s very pretty. Did you buy it for a special occasion?”

“No,” I reply. “I’ve had it for awhile.”

She nods and walks to the door. “Your partner will be here in about half an hour. I’m sure you want to look your best, so I’ll let you get cleaned up and changed.”

I shower and finger comb my hair, then let out a short gallows laugh when I realize how much I resemble the woman in the glass casket. There are dark circles under my eyes that no amount of concealer will hide, but it’s the best I can do.

I sit on my bed. I’ve made it and cleaned up a bit. The hospital robe and short nightgown are folded neatly under the pillow.

Along with the dress, the nurse gave me a pair of rubber flip-flop sandals. They’re cheap, and look like they’d fall apart if I even think about running in them. I suppose that’s the point. Can’t have the crazy woman taking off, after all.

There are three sharp raps on my door before D. Webster walks in, accompanied by the doctor. I never got his name, and it doesn’t seem important now.

“Good afternoon, N. Reynolds. Are you ready to go home?” he asks.

I stand up and straighten my skirt, tugging the hem down to cover my knees. I don’t like the way D. Webster’s gaze falls on my exposed skin. My fingers twitch to touch my oleander pendant.

“Yes,” I say, my voice even and soft. “Thank you for helping me get better.”

D. Webster takes my hand and pulls me close. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he says, “Yes, thank you for that. You have no idea how much it means to me to have Natalie safe and healthy.”

“Good, I’m very pleased everything worked out.” He takes off his glasses and wipes them, then looks at his watch. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask a nurse to show you out. I’m late for my next appointment.”

Before I can beg him to stay, he walks out, leaving me alone with a man I’m not sure I know, despite working for him for the better part of ten years.