Rebecca Schwartz 05 - Other People's Skeletons

glad it’s you and not me!” That sounded so unpleasant I forgot my troubles for a second.
    “So what’s wrong? Have you got the flu? Jeez, I wonder if I can handle this by myself.”
    “I’ve got a lump in my breast. I have to have a biopsy.”
    “Ohhh.” It was almost a moan, and instantly I felt better. It’s too much, trying to handle a thing that big by yourself. “My poor peachblossom.” But only for a second did I get to see the distress in her blue eyes. She closed them and withdrew, almost physically, like a turtle going into a shell. “It’s okay,” she said. “Thank God, it’s okay.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “It’s not cancer— or if it is, it’s not life-threatening. Usually I don’t do that, you know. Health things are too important. And also, I wouldn’t read for you— I know you much too well.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “The reading can be tainted by my own desires, my wishes for you. But sometimes I can get a hit— just one— without grounding or anything. I can just sort of tune in and there it is.”
    “Grounding?”
    “It means … I don’t know, focusing is probably the best way to put it. You’ll see us do it at the Raiders meeting.”
    “What did you see then? What was it?”
    “I took a look at both breasts, and I saw the lump— it’s in the right one, isn’t it?”
    I nodded.
    “It just looked constricted. I guess that’s about the best way I can describe it.”
    “I don’t get it.”
    “Well, I can’t describe it. That’s the best I can do.”
    “How can you tell it’s not serious?”
    She shrugged. “I just asked if it’s anything we have to worry about, and I got a no.”
    I was starting to feel better. “Do you guarantee your work?”
    “I wish.”
    Kruzick walked in. “Rob for you, Rebecca.”
    “Tell him-”
    “He says it’s important.”
    I sighed and went to my office. I felt a little drained, but at least my palms were no longer flowing like the Nile. I was out of sorts, not much in a mood to deal with anything that wasn’t life or death. “What’s up?” I more or less snapped.
    “Adrienne didn’t show up for work, and she didn’t call in.”
    I looked at my watch. It was ten-thirty. If she’d had to walk to work, she should have been there by now. “What do you think’s happened?”
    “I called her dad’s, and he said she wasn’t there— that she didn’t stay there last night. I asked him where she did stay, and he said he didn’t know.”
    “Fishy.”
    “Uh-huh. He says he doesn’t know her friend Danno, which was the only other idea I had. I’m pretty worried, to tell you the truth.”
    “Have you called Curry and Martinez?”
    “Oh sure. Right after I called the Examiner .”
    I closed my eyes and spoke to the darkness: “Should we be worried?”
    It didn’t answer.
    “Rebecca? Are you there?”
    “Listen, let’s go knock on her door. I’d feel better.”
    “So would I.”
    Adrienne didn’t answer. We looked at each other, shrugged, and started around the building, searching for open windows. There weren’t any, but one window had a crack in it, more or less inviting us to take advantage of its weakness. “There couldn’t be an alarm,” said Rob. “It’s not that kind of building.”
    “But there are laws.”
    “Something tells me we should go in.”
    “You and Chris.”
    “Huh?”
    “Nothing. Look, maybe we should call the manager or something.”
    “Let’s just test the window.” He stood on a couple of concrete blocks and leaned against it. It gave and he shrugged. “Meant to be.”
    He climbed in. “I’ll let you in the front door.”
    But I wasn’t waiting. I clambered ungracefully over the sill, shredding my pantyhose in the process. The place smelled awful, mildew mixed with stale sweat. We were in the bedroom, which was dusty and apparently hadn’t been touched. We wandered down the hall, peering in rooms, and near the living room I thought I heard something. What, I couldn’t identify.
    It must have been some slight movement, or perhaps nothing at all, just the awareness of another human being. She was there, mouth open, sheet pulled up to her neck.
    “Adrienne?” Why hadn’t she heard us break the window? “Adrienne!”
    “She’s dead,” said Rob.
    But I touched her; she was warm. I felt for a pulse and got one, but it seemed very faint. “I’m no nurse, but I think she’s in a coma. Let’s look in the bathroom.”
    My hunch had been