Chương 3
“Colonel Reed’s personal belongings are being inventoried. This flag was kept in a case in his room. It isn’t the burial flag. It belonged to him. He asked that you have it.”
“Why?”
“He didn’t explain.”
“You should’ve asked.”
“He was having trouble breathing.”
Chloe’s fingers tightened against the folded cloth.
Hale held out the envelope. “He also asked me to give you this.”
Denise took it before Chloe could.
The front said COOKIE GIRL in shaky block letters.
No name. No address.
Denise turned it over. The flap had been sealed with two pieces of hospital tape.
“Did anyone open it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Nurse Alvarez. In front of two witnesses.”
Denise studied him. “You sound like a lawyer.”
“I sound like a man who has made mistakes with important things.”
She handed the envelope to Chloe.
Chloe slid one finger under the tape. She stopped before tearing it.
“I want the cookie.”
“It’s still in the room,” Hale said.
“I want to take it home.”
Denise frowned. “Honey, it was on a hospital mattress.”
“The mattress was clean.”
“That is not how hospitals work.”
“It was wrapped.”
“Mostly.”
Chloe stood with the flag and envelope. “Mr. Arthur said not to throw it away.”
The three of them returned to room 214.
The officers had gone, though the smell of polish remained. Marisol had placed the cookie back inside its wax paper and set it on the windowsill.
Chloe picked it up.
A maintenance worker waited in the hallway with a fresh pillow under one arm. He looked into the room, then at Marisol.
“You done?”
Marisol’s expression hardened. “Give us a minute.”
“I’ve got admissions calling.”
“One minute.”
He leaned against the wall and checked his phone.
Chloe looked at the empty bed. “Someone else is coming?”
“Eventually,” Marisol said.
“Today?”
“Probably.”
“What happens to his things?”
“His glasses and clothes are downstairs with patient services. The military is helping.”
“Did he have cards?”
Marisol glanced at the pale marks on the wall. “Most of those were yours.”
“They weren’t cards.”
“No. They were drawings.”
Chloe had drawn Mr. Arthur a different dog every day because he said all dogs looked suspicious. One had been a beagle. One was supposed to be a poodle but looked like a mop with teeth. On Monday, she had drawn a German shepherd wearing wire-rim glasses.
“Where are they?”
“In the bag with his belongings.”
“Don’t let them throw them away.”
“I won’t.”
The maintenance worker sighed in the hall.
Marisol turned. “You can wait downstairs.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“So am I.”
He left with the pillow.
Denise checked the clock. “I have to speak with my supervisor.”
“Am I in trouble?” Chloe asked.
“I am.”
“Because I came here?”
“Because I brought you into patient areas during my shift.”
“You bring me every Saturday.”
“I brought you into the cafeteria. You came up here.”
“You knew.”
Denise rubbed both hands over her face. “Yes.”
General Hale watched her. “Is there someone who can take Chloe home?”
“My sister’s working. Her father is in Colorado and remembers he has a daughter when airfare is cheap.”
“I could arrange—”
“No.”
“I was going to say a private room downstairs.”
“She doesn’t need to be stored somewhere.”
Hale accepted the correction.
Chloe placed the envelope in the front pocket of her backpack. The folded flag would not fit, so she held it against her chest.
“What happens now?” she asked.
No one answered at first.
Marisol looked toward the window. Denise looked at the floor. General Hale looked at room 214 as though expecting Colonel Arthur Reed to object to their silence.
Finally, Hale said, “We find his family.”
“He told me he didn’t have one,” Chloe said.
“He said the same to the hospital.”
“Then why do you have to find them?”
“Because people sometimes say they have no family when they mean something else.”
Denise glanced at him. “That sounds like another version someone can live with.”
Hale buttoned his uniform jacket.
“Yes,” he said. “It does.”
By noon, Denise had been sent home pending a meeting with Environmental Services and Human Resources.
Mr. Leland did not look at Chloe while he explained it. He was a square man with a square beard and a habit of tapping his wedding ring against hard surfaces. He tapped it against the edge of his desk while Denise stood in front of him.
“This isn’t only about today,” he said. “You’ve brought her upstairs before.”
“She sits in the cafeteria until my break.”
“She was in a patient room.”
“The patient invited her.”
“Patients don’t set hospital access policy.”
“He was dying alone.”
“That does not make you her supervisor.”
“I’m her mother.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
Chloe sat outside the office beside a vending machine. The door did not close properly, so every word reached her.
Denise lowered her voice. “You knew my childcare fell through.”
“I told you to call out.”
“And lose the shift.”
“You cannot turn this into a wage discussion.”
“It is a wage discussion when missing one Saturday means the electric bill gets paid late.”
The wedding ring struck the desk twice.
“There’s also a recording circulating.”
Denise went quiet.
“What recording?”
“The military salute. Your daughter. The flag.”
“That woman said she deleted it.”
“Apparently someone else recorded from the nurses’ station.”
“Who posted it?”
“We’re investigating.”
“You should be investigating that, not me.”
“We can investigate two things.”
Chloe looked down at her backpack. The envelope marked COOKIE GIRL waited inside. She had not opened it.
A man buying pretzels from the vending machine glanced at the flag in her arms. He looked again, longer this time, then pretended to study the nutrition label.
Mr. Leland’s voice rose.
“The video is already being shared. Communications is getting calls.”
“Then tell them not to use my daughter’s name.”
“I don’t have her name.”
May you like
“You do now.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
