Published by The Wild Rose Press
ISBN Print: 978-1-62830-411-4
ISBN Digital: 978-1-62830-412-1 Amazon Buy Link http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00M88BHPE
Twitter @sbuchbinder https://twitter.com/sbuchbinder
Excerpt 4: Aunt Ida had no idea her efforts to help her best friend to get a better night’s sleep, may have inadvertently contributed to her trauma. Sarah watches with dismay as the realization hits the elderly woman…
“Is there a problem?” Aunt Ida asked, her bright blue eyes darting between the cop and Sarah.
“You may have purchased an illegal substance,” Detective Engelman said. Aunt Ida looked toward Sarah, her sweet face creased into a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand.”
The detective looked at Aunt Ida with a mixture of sadness and pity. “GHB is a substance some rapists use to make sure their victims will cooperate. Combined with alcohol, it can cause coma and death.”
Well, Sarah thought, maybe this crusty guy had a shred of empathy, after all. ‘“Rape? Coma? Death?” Aunt Ida dropped her face into her hands and sobbed. “What have I done?”
“You didn’t know.” Sarah squeezed her hand. “Someone took advantage of you.”’
“Now what?” Aunt Ida asked. “Do you arrest me? I have to call my lawyer, Sol Weinstein. He’ll know what I have to do. Will I need bail?”
“Whoa. Slow down.” The detective put his palm out like a traffic cop. “Take some deep breaths. We really don’t know if this is GHB.”
The detective seemed flustered. Maybe he wasn’t used to hysterical little old ladies.
“I want to see my mother.” Sarah stood. “Can we go now?”
He seemed to soften even more. “If you’re up to it, I’ll take you both to the ER.”
“I’ve been ready since I heard the news.” Aunt Ida straightened her shoulders, buttoned her coat, clutched Sarah’s hand and pushed herself out of the chair.
“Winston, guard the house,” Sarah ordered. The poor creature could barely lift his head off his bed in the corner of the kitchen to thump his tail.
Light flashing, the detective blasted past cars on the beltway, making up for the delay at the house, it seemed. A short time later, he let the two women out at the ER entrance.
As soon as they were at the desk, Sarah asked a dark-haired receptionist where she could find Ethel Wright. The woman glanced up from her keyboard and frowned. “You related?”
“I’m her daughter.” Sarah pointed to Aunt Ida. “This is her sister.” What the hell, after tonight’s events why not make her an official member of the family?
“They’re working her up now. As soon as the doctor has a moment, I’ll ask him to speak with you.”She pointed at a row of orange plastic chairs. “Take a seat and wait.”
Tears, brought on by anger, fear—and guilt—welled in Sarah’s eyes. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on? I have a right to know.”
“Young lady, I insist on seeing my sister. Now,” Aunt Ida shouted.
Detective Engelman walked over to Sarah. “What’s the problem?”
Sarah’s head throbbed. “They won’t let us see my mother.” It wasn’t right. She needed to be with her.
The detective leaned over the desk and whispered something to the clerk. Her head jerked back as if she’d been slapped. Face beet red, the woman jumped out of her seat and hustled around the counter.
“With me. With me.”
Inside the treatment cubicle, Sarah found electric warming blankets covering her mother. Her lips were blue and her skin had a mottled, pale, yellow-gray tone. Plastic intravenous bags hung from hooks overhead; clear tubes extending from them wormed beneath the blankets. Multiple monitors beeped at irregular intervals. The numbers blinking on the heart monitor varied between forty-five and fifty. Standing at her bedside, Sarah realized that she’d never seen her mother this close to death.