Come and Find Me A Novel of Suspense - By Hallie Ephron Page 0,42
again, and into the vestibule rolled a wheelchair. Sitting in it was the hunched-over figure of a woman. She was pitched forward as if straining to see, her clawed hand gripping the joystick on the arm of the chair.
Diana pulled the stairwell door open and stepped out.
“Nadia?” The woman propped herself up against her chair arm with one elbow and offered her other hand. “I’m Pam. Dr. Pamela David-Braverman if you want to get technical about it.”
“You’re a physician?” Diana asked, grasping Pam’s cool, stiff hand.
“You bet.” Pam’s mouth opened in a generous smile. Despite braided white-white hair, Pam’s smooth, unlined face suggested she was barely forty.
“I’m Diana. Diana Highsmith.”
The elevator door began to close, but before it could do so, Pam backed her wheelchair into the opening. The door crashed into it and rebounded. Then a buzzer started to ring. Pam seemed unfazed.
“Your car is okay parked where it is for now—until the parking Nazis arrive in the morning. Then I’ve got a resident permit we can leave on the dash.” As Pam talked, Diana could feel her sharp gaze picking her apart—as if she were being autopsied. Pam must have recognized the leather jacket and red boots as part of Nadia’s getup. “Let’s go up.” Pam backed the wheelchair up a bit to make room for Diana to slide past.
When Diana hesitated, Pam said, “There was a guy inspecting this thing a few weeks ago. It might look like shit but it runs. Otherwise, it’s five long dark flights up. I understand they’ve had a problem with homeless people sneaking in and harvesting lightbulbs. But hey, it’s your call.”
Pam backed the wheelchair up farther to make more room. Diana stepped into the elevator and pressed her shoulder against the wall as the door clanked shut.
Pam tipped her chair back so it balanced on its two oversize wheels. She raised the seat and pushed the button for the fourth floor.
“This new wheelchair has changed my life,” Pam said as the seat lowered. With a groan the elevator started to ascend. “Stays charged for a week. Turns on a dime. Even climbs stairs.” Pam reached for Diana’s hand, and Diana knew her friend was chattering away to help Diana stay calm.
Finally the elevator stopped and they got out. One of the doors on the dark corridor stood open. Pam rolled toward it. The raucous sound of a bird singing leaked from inside.
“That’s a clock,” Pam said, tossing the words back over her shoulder. “My sister’s idea of a Christmas present. She’s into clocks. She also gave me one shaped like a hen that clucks on the hour and lays an egg. That one’s still in the box.”
“My sister’s into dietary supplements,” Diana said, following close behind. “And body lotions.”
“Equally useful, I’m sure, but not nearly as charming.”
The birdsong clock turned out to be hanging on one of the cavernous apartment’s bare brick walls. The multipaned windows looked as if they’d been original to this turn-of-the-century manufacturing complex. Diana had read enough local history to know that it would have once been waterfront property before landfill extended Boston’s shoreline.
Waist-high bookcases divided the space. Scanning them, Diana saw mostly medical texts and travel books, including a guide to trekking in Tibet and Bill Bryson’s book on walking the Appalachian Trail. Tucked in also was a well-worn copy of Heidi.
Flowering plants—including African violets in a range of colors and shapes that Diana had never seen before—and framed photos lined the top shelves. One of the pictures was of a little dark-haired girl of about eight with huge eyes who smiled at the camera from a wheelchair. The two adults, a man and a woman standing beside her and beaming, were probably Pam’s parents.
Against the back, windowless wall was a bed and about ten feet of built-in closet with a rod chest-high. Computers in a setup that rivaled Diana’s own were arrayed in a front corner under a window. Pam’s wheelchair, with its black-cushioned seat and leather armrests, was the ideal desk chair.
Once inside, Pam rode smoothly, despite the uneven pine-plank floors. The chair must have had shock absorbers, maybe even a gyroscope to keep it so perfectly balanced.
Sitting on a cushy white couch accented with hot-pink and deep purple silk throw pillows and drinking a cup of dark, smoky oolong tea that Pam prepared for her, Diana told Pam about Ashley’s disappearance and apparent reappearance. Pam listened, absorbing each revelation as if she were listening to the weather report.