Chapter 11

“For some reason,” I said to Dr. Russell when I found him, “when I got up this morning, I remembered that you had ordered a psychiatric consult when I woke up from my coma. Do you remember that?”

I glanced over at Lizzie who was waiting discreetly by the elevators.

“Yes,” he replied, and stopped to face me. “But now that you mention it, I don’t recall seeing any notes on that,” he said. “Did someone come and see you?”

“No,” I answered. “I thought maybe you’d cancelled it.”

He stared at me for a moment, then frowned. “You should definitely have talked to someone. I can set that up for you now, if you’d like.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s not really necessary because I’ll be seeing someone through work.” I wasn’t absolutely certain about that, but I assumed it would be the case.

Dr. Russell regarded me intently. “Have you had any other experiences like what you described to me when you first regained consciousness?”

I looked down at my shoes. “No, I think it was a dream, like you said. I feel better now.”

“Good to hear.” He nodded. “Just make sure you follow up with your regular physician in a week or two.”

“I will. Thank you, doctor.”

“So it wasn’t Dr. Russell who cancelled the order,” Lizzie said as we got into my car. “It

won’t be easy to find out who cancelled it. You’d have to confront everyone who worked those shifts when you were in recovery because it was just a line drawn through the order in regular blue pen. No one initialed it or anything.”

As we walked to the car, I told Lizzie about my near-death experience.

“Maybe I was dreaming the whole thing with Wendy,” I said as I inserted the key into the ignition and started the engine. “Or maybe I need professional help.”

“I’m not suggesting that,” Lizzie said, somewhat defensively.

“No, but you’re thinking it and I can’t blame you. What I’m telling you is crazy. It’s beyond crazy. “I still can’t believe she’s gone,” I softly said as I stared blankly at the car in front of us. “And she died on the same day I arrived at the hospital. Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“I do,” Lizzie replied in a solemn tone. She sat quietly until we merged onto the exit that led into her neighborhood. “God, something just occurred to me, something I read in your chart.”

I turned to glance at her while still keeping most of my attention on the road. “What was it?”

“I skimmed over everything, Nick, but what’s almost too coincidental to ignore is the fact that you were brought in by ambulance and admitted to the ER at the exact hour of Wendy’s death. She was also brought to St. Vincent.”

I pulled into Lizzie’s driveway, parked the car and turned off the engine. “What are you suggesting?”

“In some cases I studied,” she said as she got out of the car and shut the door, “patients described floating out of the room and seeing things that were happening in the hospital. Maybe Wendy saw you enter the ER, recognized you and wanted to stick around to make sure you were okay. Unlike you, she never returned to her body.”

We walked to her home and she unlocked the front door.

“I hope you don’t have plans for tonight,” she said, “because I’d love it if you could stay for supper. Clearly there’s a lot to talk about and I’m all alone here anyway. At least for tonight.” There was a melancholy look in her eye, and I knew she was missing Wendy.

“I don’t have plans,” I said.

“Good. Are you hungry now? And are you okay with leftovers?”

“Sure,” I replied. “I’m a policeman, I eat pretty much anything.”

I followed her to the kitchen and I slid up onto a stool. My leg was stiff and throbbing and my abdomen was sore. I’d definitely done too much walking.

“Are you okay?” she asked, glancing at my leg. “Is that bothering you?”

“I’m fine. It just aches sometimes when I overdo it.”

“Stay seated, then,” she said. “I’ll take care of everything.”

Lizzie uncorked a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses. She opened the fridge and withdrew a pan of garlic butter chicken and potatoes wrapped in foil which she carried to the stovetop.

“How thoughtless of me,” she mentioned as she pressed the power buttons on the oven. “I didn’t even ask if you liked white wine before I poured it.”