Five Days in Summer

was a failing studentwho tried to exchange sex for grades and was striking out at him for refusing. With the great Dr. Roger Bell testifying that Special Agent Dr. John Geary was incapable of telling a lie, Ruth jumped right on the bandwagon and they rode into the sunset together, letting the case fade into history. Geary still wondered what Ruth had really thought, but at the same time doubted he would have the guts to take up her disapproval. Maybe someday he’d open her diaries. Or maybe not.
    “I believe it was thirty years ago we were asked to stop calling them girls,” Bell said.
    “I heard it came back into style lately.” Geary shrugged. “Go figure.”
    “Since when did you give a damn for style, John?”
    “You know something, Roger?” Geary looked into the sky, sheer blue, that went on forever. “Sometimes I don’t like the sound of my own voice, and that’s the truth.” Geary dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, flipped it open and took out a dollar bill.
    “Of course.” Bell laughed. “I won the bet. I know you too well, my friend. You were never going to be able to walk away from that case.”
    “Take it and don’t gloat.” Geary slapped the dollar onto Bell’s open hand. “Cheapest car I ever bought.”

DAY FIVE

Chapter 37
    Emily opened her eyes to darkness. Slowly, her brain shuffled pieces into place.
    Sammie. My baby. No.
    Speckles of light collected in a mist. There was no Sammie here. No one. She was all alone but not in the boat anymore. She took a deep, reflexive breath and waited for the footsteps. The corn man was not the corn man. A stranger. Don’t talk to strangers.
    He had a knife at David’s chest.
    Someone was going to die.
    Oh, Sammie.
    Her muscles jerked as if she had fallen off a cliff right before going to sleep. Her legs shifted on something soft. A bed. She was untied in a soft bed that smelled briskly clean.
    Her brain reshuffled and she was in a hospital room. Alone. After David was born she had sworn never again to share a hospital room with someone she didn’t know; for Sam then Maxi they paid for a private room. But now she hated it. She didn’t want to be alone. She’d rather see an old, dying woman next to her, hear the calm flow of her breath, smell the suede richness of her skin. Watch her in a neighboring bed, thinking of the cycle of life, the turning wheel thatdrops one off and picks up another. Not the angry locusts that buzz in to eat you right off your branch.
    She could move her arms and she could move her legs. Her eyes blinked freely. She stretched and looked around. Moonlight rippled across the ceiling, and outside she heard the hum of a car pulling away.
    The air was dry, not spongy. She was over ground, not below sea level, submerged in water.
    She took another deep breath.
    The sharp, squealing noise. The pounding on the floor.
    She didn’t want to remember. Go away. She turned over onto her side and felt the tug of the IV taped onto her arm. Fluids, nutrition. Of course.
    The corn man took off her blindfold and she saw Sammie on the floor.
    And the corn man was not the corn man.
    Go away.
    She squeezed her eyes and turned onto her other side, carefully adjusting the IV tube. She gripped her toes and flexed her feet. Bent and straightened her legs. Turned onto her back and stretched her arms toward the ceiling. Someone must have washed her because the smell was mostly gone.
    She looked around the room. White walls, industrial wood furniture, a phone on the bedside table. She picked it up and listened to the dial tone. Searching the walls she located a clock: it was ten past four in the morning. She dialed her mother’s phone number and hung up before it rang. Let them sleep. Are they all safely home? Go away. Let them sleep. She would call at seven, tell her mother she was okay, remind her to give Maxi her medicine.
    She couldn’t lie there, couldn’t keep still. She sat up and felt a little dizzy. Took a few deep breaths. Swung her feet over the side of the bed. Pressing herpalms on the edge of the mattress, she eased herself down. The coldness of the linoleum floor shocked her bare feet. She stood, wobbly, and kept still while a wave of dizziness ebbed. A deep breath and she could do it, one step forward and then another. She just needed to walk. It had either been the worst dream or the longest night in history.
    The IV stand wheeled easily along, clattering but not resisting. Her door was open, and when she entered