"All this makes me feel sad and ashamed. It also makes me want to apologize to you and wish I could take back a number of wasted years."
"I'm surprised and overwhelmed," Tracy said. "But I accept. I'm impressed by your insight."
"Thanks," Kim said simply. He stared out the windshield. They had turned onto the side road and were approaching Higgins and Hancock. The building looked peaceful and clean under the dusting of snow.
"Is this it?" Tracy asked.
Kim nodded. "The entrance to the parking lot is coming up," he said. "My car should be right in front of the main door. At least that's where I left it."
Tracy turned where Kim indicated. Kim's car was immediately apparent. It was standing in total isolation. There were only two other cars in the lot, but they were all the way at the end of the plant.
"Marsha's car was parked where those two cars are," Kim mentioned. "Maybe there's an employee entrance over there."
Tracy pulled up alongside of Kim's car. She stopped and set the emergency brake.
Kim pointed to the record-room window that he'd smashed to gain entrance into the building. It had been boarded up. He explained to Tracy he'd done it with one of the large rocks lining the parking lot.
"What's the plan?" Tracy asked when Kim paused.
Kim sighed. "I've got to get to the hospital. Tom's agreed to look in on my patients, but I have to see them too. Then I'll go see Kelly Anderson. I happen to know where she lives."
"We have some decisions to make concerning Becky," Tracy said.
Kim nodded but looked off in the distance.
"I know it is difficult," Tracy said. "But we have to make funeral arrangements. It might even help us accept her death."
Kim bit his lip.
"Anger and denial are part of the grieving process," Tracy said when Kim didn't respond. "I'm guilty of using them as well as you, but we do have responsibilities."
Kim turned to face Tracy. There were tears in the corners of his eyes. "You're right," he admitted. "But, as I said, I need a little more time because of what's happened. Would it be too much to ask for you to go ahead and make the arrangements without me? I know it's asking a lot. I'll certainly agree to anything you decide, and, of course, I'll be there for the service. I'd just like to follow up on this Kelly Anderson idea immediately."
Tracy tapped her fingers against the steering wheel while she stared at Kim and pondered his request. Her first thought was to say no and to tell him that he was just being selfish again. But then she reconsidered. Although she didn't want to make the arrangements by herself, she knew that the service itself was far more important than making the arrangements. She also recognized that at the moment she was probably more capable than he was.
"You won't mind what day I pick?" Tracy questioned. "Or where a service might be?"
"Not at all," Kim said. "Whatever you decide."
"All right," she said. "But you have to promise to call me as soon as you get home."
"I promise," Kim said. He reached over and gave Tracy 's forearm a squeeze before getting out of the car.
"I'll wait to make sure your car starts," Tracy said.
"Good idea," Kim said. "And thanks." He shut the door. He waved before heading over to his car.
Tracy waved back and wondered if she was doing the right thing.
Kim opened his car door, but didn't get right in. He looked at Higgins and Hancock and shuddered at the memory of the previous night. The terror he'd felt running from the man with the knife came flooding back. It was an experience he knew he'd never forget.
Kim started to get into the car but hesitated again. For a brief moment, he entertained the idea of talking with the guard on duty to find out how to get in touch with Curt, the guard from the previous night. But Tracy 's admonition immediately came to mind, and Kim decided she was right. If Curt were willing to lie to the police about Marsha's presence, he certainly wouldn't be apt to tell the truth to Kim. And the fact that he probably was lying meant there was more to this affair than might appear on the surface.
Kim's car started with ease, and he waved at Tracy who waved back before preceding him out of the parking lot. Kim followed at a distance, rethinking their recent conversation. He thought it was ironic that the awful events of the last few days-Becky's death and his having come close to being murdered-could end up making him feel closer to Tracy than he had in years, maybe even ever.
They parted company on the freeway. Kim beeped his horn in farewell. Tracy beeped back as she sped away toward her neighborhood. Kim took the exit appropriate for the med center.
On Sundays the doctors' parking lot was almost empty, and Kim was able to park close to the front entrance. As he climbed out of his car he told himself the first order of business was for him to go directly up to the surgical locker room. He wanted to clean up, shave, and change into the street clothes he'd left there Friday morning.
Martha Trumbull and George Constantine were both in their early seventies, and both had been faithful volunteers at the University Medical Center long enough to have been awarded the prestigious Friends of the Hospital service pins. Martha proudly wore hers on the front of her pink volunteer smock, whereas George wore his on the lapel of his cerulean volunteer blazer.
Martha and George's favorite assignment was manning the information desk in the hospital lobby. They particularly liked to work there on Sunday when they had it to themselves. On the other days of the week, a paid hospital employee was in charge.
Taking their roles seriously, they not only knew the layout of the hospital with the same detail as the floor plans of their own homes, but they also knew the names of the entire hospital professional staff. When Kim came through the door on his way to the elevator, they both thought they recognized him yet they weren't a hundred-percent certain.
Martha glanced at George. "Is that Dr. Reggis?" she whispered.
"I think so," George said. "But I can't imagine what he's been doing in that white coat, unless he had to change a tire."
"I think the beard looks worse than the coat," Martha said. "Someone should tell him, because he's such a nice-looking man."
"Wait a second," George said. "Weren't we supposed to call Dr. Biddle if we saw Dr. Reggis?"
"That was yesterday," Martha said. "You think it's the same today?"
"Why take a chance?" George said as he reached for the phone.
To Kim's relief the elevator was empty when he boarded it on the ground floor, and he was able to ride solo all the way to the surgical floor. He wasn't quite as lucky on his transit of the surgical lounge. There were a number of the OR nurses and on-call anesthesiologists having coffee. Although no one said anything, those assembled eyed him with curiosity.
Kim was glad to get into the surgical locker room and away from the inquiring faces. He was particularly pleased to find it vacant, and he lost no time. After rescuing his hospital I.D., a few papers and pens, plus some surgical tape from the pockets, he pulled off the coat, the scrubs, and even his underwear. Everything went into the laundry hamper.
Completely naked, Kim was shocked to catch his reflection in the mirror. His visage was far worse than he imagined. His ratty whiskers were significantly more than a five o'clock shadow but far from being a beard. And his hair was a mess, plastered down across his forehead yet standing straight up in the back, suggesting he'd just gotten out of bed.
Opening his combination lock, Kim got out the toiletries he kept in his locker and quickly shaved. Then he got into the shower with a vial of shampoo.