there, dead to the world. I wanted to tell someone. I thought about my parents but they’re not much help and wouldn’t know what to do. I thought about talking to a lawyer but those people scare me. I can’t imagine being on the witness stand in a courtroom with lawyers yelling at me and calling me a liar. So I waited. At one point I was determined to march into the manager’s office and tell her everything, but I can’t stand the woman. She always protects the company, so she can’t be trusted. About a week later I saw Gerrard enter the girl’s room and I followed him. I pointed my finger at him and said, ‘Leave her alone.’ He ran like a scared puppy. He has no spine. Anyway, time passed and here we are.”
Raymond Jumper was fascinated by the tragic story but also stunned by it. It was not part of the plan. He had been hired by Lindsey Wheat and her mysterious company out of D.C. to bribe employees to turn over confidential patient records and, hopefully, medications. They had selected Brittany Bolton as their first prospect at Serenity Home. Now, Brittany had chosen him as her confidant. His brain spun as the story went off script. “And that’s all?” he asked.
“One small late-breaking item,” Brittany said. “The girl is pregnant. Imagine. Brain-dead for eighteen years, alive because of a tube, and now she’s pregnant.”
“Are you positive?”
“Almost. I bathe her every day, okay, and I’d say she’s about six months along. No one else knows it. When she gives birth a quick DNA test will nail Gerrard. Since consent is out of the question, the company will be liable for…”
“Millions.”
“That’s what I thought. Millions. And he’ll go to jail, right?”
“I would think so. Probably for a long time.”
“Such a creep.”
“And the company has insurance, so the matter will be settled quickly and quietly,” Jumper said as he sipped his beer. “It’s a gorgeous lawsuit.”
“It’s a killer. I’ve buried myself online and read a thousand cases of nursing home abuse. You know what, Raymond?”
“What?”
“I haven’t found one nearly as good as this. And it’s mine. I want a piece of it. I’m an eyewitness and I have his semen. And more importantly, I want out of this job and this town. I’m tired of bathing ninety-year-old men who want me to touch their privates. I’m tired of old saggy flesh, Raymond. Tired of bedpans, and bedsores, and tired of trying to make forgotten people feel good when they have no reason to feel good. I want out, and this is my ticket.”
Jumper was nodding, already on board. “Okay, what’s your plan?”
“I don’t have one, but I’ll bet some lawyer would pay me some money for what I know. What about the lawyers you work for?”
They don’t exist, Jumper thought, but said, “Oh, I think they’d kill for this case. Assuming all the facts are in place.”
“Facts? You doubt me?”
“No, but her pregnancy hasn’t been confirmed yet. Gerrard hasn’t been tested for DNA.”
“The facts are there, Raymond, trust me. I like to think of myself as the whistleblower, the insider who gets paid for what she knows. Is there anything wrong with that, Raymond?”
“Not in my book.”
Each took a bite of pizza and tried to sort things out. There were issues, scenarios, unknowns, and a lot at stake. Jumper washed his down with beer, wiped his mouth with the back of a sleeve, and said, “This could take months or years, and I’m on board. But right now I have a more pressing matter. The lawyers I work for need information from Serenity.”
“What kind of information?”
“It’s sort of vague right now, but they’re concerned with the patients with advanced dementia, the poor folks who are bedridden, gone far away and not coming back. What’s the slang for them?”
“?‘Nons,’ ‘veggies,’ there are a number of nicknames for