But there was no one else who could prove she hadn’t known about Mr. Briarley’s death. And if I don’t hurry, I won’t have Tish either, she thought, looking over at where Tish was setting up for Mr. Sage’s session. In another five minutes, she’d be ready to leave.
Joanna bit her lip, trying to decide what to do, and then switched on the recorder and began speaking quickly, describing everything she could remember about how Mr. Briarley had looked and what he’d said. “There is always less time than we imagine,” he’d said, and “ ‘whatsoever noise ye hear, come not unto me, for nothing can rescue me.’ ”
He was trying to tell you he was dead, she thought, and had to force herself not to stand up and go over to the phone, to finish recording the account. “All this time Mr. Briarley’s being there seemed perfectly normal,” she said into the recorder, “but when—”
“Did you say something?” Tish asked from over by the examining table.
“No, I’m just recording my account,” Joanna said.
“Oh. Is there anything else you need me to do, or can I go to lunch now?”
“No, I need you to do something for me,” Joanna said.
“Oh,” Tish said, disappointed. “What is it? Because it’s already one and the cafeteria—”
Probably closed at twelve forty-five, Joanna thought, and if you leave, there goes my documentation. “I need you to witness something,” she said.
“Witness something? You mean, like a will?”
“No, not a will,” Joanna said. “A statement of fact. But before you do, I need to finish recording my account of my NDE, so it’ll be a few minutes.”
“Can’t I go and come back?”
“No,” Joanna said. “I need you here. I’m going to want you to witness the fact that I didn’t leave the room or make or receive any phone calls.”
She switched the recorder back on and began to talk rapidly into it. “—but when I came out of the NDE-state and began recording my account, I experienced an overpowering feeling that his being there meant that he was dead,” she said, trying not to be distracted by the sight of Tish standing in the middle of the lab, tapping her foot and looking at her watch every few seconds. “As far as I am aware, Mr. Briarley—Tish, you don’t have to watch me.” Tish shrugged, went over to the dressing room door, and began applying lipstick in the mirror on the inside of the door.
“As far as I am aware, Mr. Briarley is alive,” Joanna said. “I saw him five days ago and spoke with him on the phone yesterday, and, so far as I know, he was in good health, with the exception of his Alzheimer’s, and uninjured. I have had no communication with him or regarding him since then. End of Joanna Lander’s account. Completed at 1:08 p.m.”
She popped the tape out of the recorder. “Okay,” she said to Tish, who was applying mascara, and went over to Richard’s desk. She reached to switch on the computer and then thought better of it—there shouldn’t be any possibility of outside input, including e-mail—and grabbed a piece of paper. Tish came over to the desk, her bag already over her arm, obviously in a hurry to leave. Which is good, Joanna thought. She won’t ask a lot of questions.
Joanna wrote, “I was in the presence of J. Lander from the beginning of the procedure to the completion of the recording of her account. At no time did J. Lander leave the laboratory or have any communication with anyone outside it,” and pushed the paper across the desk to Tish. “I need you to sign and date this, and put the time,” she said, handing her a pen.
Tish read the affidavit. “What’s this for?” she said. “I’m not providing you an alibi for a crime, am I?”
“No,” Joanna said. “I just need you to document when and where my NDE account was written.”
“You never asked me to document any of the others,” Tish said suspiciously.
“Dr. Wright usually documents them,” Joanna lied. She looked pointedly at her watch. “It’s one-fifteen.”
“It is?” Tish said anxiously and signed the paper. “Is that all you need?”
“No,” Joanna said, holding up the tape. “This is the tape of my account.” She wrapped it in another sheet of paper and taped the ends closed. “I need you to sign across the tape and date it.”
“All this for an NDE where you see the post office?” Tish said. “If I ever have an NDE, I certainly hope it has something more exciting in it than the post office.”
No, you don’t, Joanna thought. She handed Tish the pen. “It’s one-seventeen.”
Tish looked at her watch and then signed it. “Is that it?”
“No, one more thing,” Joanna said, picking up the phone. “I want you to witness me making this phone call.” She punched in Kit’s number, hoping, for the first time, that Mr. Briarley would answer the phone, and wondering what she’d say if he didn’t. “Hi, we’re performing a little experiment here. Is your Uncle Pat alive?”
Tish was tapping her foot again. And what if no one answered? She obviously wouldn’t be willing to stick around while Joanna attempted to call—
“Hello?” a woman’s voice, not Kit’s, answered. “Hello?”
I dialed the wrong number, Joanna thought. “Is… I’m trying to reach Kit Gardiner,” she stammered. “Is she there?”
“No,” the woman said. “This is Mrs. Gray, the Eldercaregiver.”
“Is Mr. Briarley there?”
“No,” Mrs. Gray said. “They just left for the emergency room.”
32
Mission Controclass="underline" Challenger, go at throttle up.
Challenger: Roger, go at throttle up. (static)
(Pause)
Mission Controclass="underline" Flight controllers here are looking very carefully at the situation. Obviously a major malfunction.
“Emergency room,” Joanna said numbly. Mr. Briarley’s dead, and I knew it, even though there was no way I could have known. She jammed down the phone and started for the door.
“Where are you going?” Tish said. “I thought you wanted me to witness your phone call.”
Joanna stopped, staring at her blankly.
“So, do you want me to sign something saying who you called and what you said?” Tish asked.
“No,” Joanna managed to say. “You can leave now.”
“Okay,” Tish said doubtfully. “I thought that was why you wanted me to stay, to witness it.”
To witness it. To attest to the fact that she couldn’t have known he was dead beforehand. Dead. And himself again, no longer struggling to remember his niece or the word for “tea.” Well and happy, with his memory restored. On the Other Side.
“Dr. Lander?” Tish asked, looking anxiously at her. “Are you okay?”
No, Joanna thought. They’re real. They’re not a hallucination. “I’m fine. Go on, Tish. I know you wanted to get to lunch.”
Tish nodded. “The cute new obstetrician I told you about hasn’t figured out when the cafeteria’s open,” she said, digging through her tote bag. “I brought a whole bunch of quarters for the vending machines. Where is that coin purse? I’ll admit Doritos and Skittles aren’t very romantic, but since there aren’t any restaurants around here—Oh, good, here it is.” She brought out a red polka-dotted coin purse and stuck it in her pocket. “Somebody really needs to open one across the street,” she said, starting for the door. “They’d make a killing,” and was finally gone.
Joanna forced herself to wait till she heard the ding and whoosh of the elevator, then raced out of the lab and down to the ER. It can’t be true, she thought, tearing down the stairs. The mediums were fakes, and Mrs. Davenport’s a moron. There wasn’t a shred of truth to any of their claims. It couldn’t be true. But there wasn’t any other way she could have known. No one had discussed it while she was under. Richard and Tish didn’t even know Mr. Briarley, and if Kit had called and left her a message, Richard would have mentioned it as soon as she came out.