“No,” Vielle said defensively. “It’s been quiet as a church in here all day. Nothing but sprained ankles and paper cuts. Why did Mrs. Edwards say to give this to me?” she asked Nina.
“The police said if this guy comes in, you’re supposed to call them, he shot a guy in the leg with a nail gun—”
“Thank you, Nina,” Vielle said, handing her back the paper. “Go show it to Dr. Thayer.”
“If the guy he shot shows up, you’re supposed to call them, too,” Nina said. “They’re both gang members—”
“Thank you, Nina.”
As soon as Nina was gone, Joanna said, “A nail gun! Vielle, when are you going to transfer out of here? It’s dangerous—”
“I know, I know, you’ve told me before,” she said, looking past Joanna. “Oops, gotta go.” She started toward the front of the ER, where two men were holding a pasty-faced woman up by the armpits.
“Vielle—”
“See you tomorrow night at Dish Night,” Vielle said, breaking into a trot.
Too late. The woman vomited all over the floor and the two men. One of the men let go and jumped backward out of the line of fire, and the woman slid sideways onto the floor. Vielle, her worried look back, caught her before she fell.
There was no point in waiting around. The woman was obviously going to take some time, and it was already nearly two. And what could she say if she did stay? “Vielle, why did you really call me? And don’t tell me it was about Bambi’s mother!”
Joanna went back upstairs. Amelia still wasn’t there. “Did you find out what you needed to know?” Richard asked.
“No,” Joanna said. In more ways than one.
“By the way, Vielle—”
There was a knock on the door, and Amelia swept in, exclaiming, “I am so sorry I’m late. Can you believe my professors all decided to give an exam the same week?” She divested herself of her backpack, gloves, and coat with the same speed as she had two days before, talking the entire time. “I know I blew it. I hate biochem!”
Her long black hair was twisted up into the messy-looking topknot all the college students were wearing these days. She shook it out and twisted it up again into an even messier knot. “I got a D, I know it,” she said, securing it with a large gold plastic clip. “Do you want me to go get undressed, Dr. Wright?”
“Not yet,” he said. “Dr. Lander needs to ask you some questions first.”
“Amelia,” Joanna said, indicating one of the three chairs. She sat down herself, and Richard came around and took the other one. “You’re a premed student, is that right?”
Amelia plopped down in the third. “Not after the biochem exam I just took. It was even worse than anatomy. I was premed. Now I’m dead meat.”
Joanna wrote down “premed.” “And you’re how old?”
“Twenty-four,” Amelia said. “I know, that’s old to still be in premed. I got a BA in music theater before I decided I didn’t want to be an actress.”
An actress. Good at playing roles. At fooling people. “Why did you decide you didn’t want to be an actress?”
“I realized the only parts I was ever going to get were Tuptim and Miss Saigon, and I was never going to get to play Marian the librarian or Annie Get Your Gun, so I decided to go to medical school instead. At least doctors can always get parts.” She grinned up at Joanna. “You know, kidneys, gallbladders, livers.”
A joke, which True Believers hardly ever told. If there was any characteristic NDE nuts and ESPers and UFO abductees had in common it was a complete lack of a sense of humor. And Amelia also had a knowledge of science and a willingness to volunteer information that indicated she had nothing to hide. I believe we have a winner, Joanna thought. “Can you tell me why you volunteered for the project?” she asked.
Amelia glanced guiltily at Richard. “Why I volunteered?” she said and looked away. “Well…”
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water, Joanna thought.
“You said you were interested in neurology,” Richard said. Don’t give her an out, Joanna thought, glaring at him.
“I am interested in neurology,” Amelia said. “It’s what I want to go into, but what I didn’t tell you,” she twisted her hands in her lap, “is that I didn’t volunteer on my own.”
Here it comes, Joanna thought, Mr. Mandrake told her to. Or worse, the voices in her head.
“My psych professor is really big on the idea of premeds being patients ourselves, so that when we become doctors we can empathize with our patients,” Amelia said, looking at her hands. “He gives extra credit for participating in a research project, and I really need the points. I’m doing terrible in psych.” She looked apologetically at Richard. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you wouldn’t take me.”
Take you? Joanna thought. I only wish there were a dozen more like you. Students volunteering for extra credit were perfect. They had no agenda and no particular interest in the subject, which made it unlikely they’d read Mandrake’s book or the other NDE books. “Your professor assigned you to the project?” Joanna asked.
“No,” Amelia said and glanced guiltily at Richard again. “We picked whatever project we were interested in.”
“And you were interested in NDEs?” Joanna asked, her heart sinking.
“No, I didn’t know it was about NDEs when I signed up.” She began the hand-twisting again. “I thought it would probably be one of those memory experiments. Not that I wanted it to be,” she said, flushing, “this is a lot more interesting.”
She glanced over at Richard again, and it hit Joanna. “I’ll need a copy of your class schedule so we can set up a good session time, Amelia,” she said.
Richard was looking questioningly at her. Joanna ignored him. “Will tomorrow at eleven fit your schedule, Amelia?” she asked.
“Yes,” Amelia said eagerly. “I can even stay this afternoon and do one, if you want.”
“Great,” Joanna said. “Why don’t you go get undressed?” She stood up, still avoiding Richard’s eye, and started over to the examining table.
“I know where everything is,” Amelia said, grabbed the pile of clothing off the table, and disappeared into the dressing room.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Richard said as soon as the door shut behind her. “Did you see her reaction when you asked her why she volunteered for the project? She got really upset. I don’t think she was telling the truth.”
“She wasn’t,” Joanna said. “Do you need me to help set things up?”
“If she was lying, how can you be sure she isn’t one of Mandrake’s ringers?”
“Because it was a peripheral lie,” Joanna said, “lying for a personal reason that has nothing to do with the matter at hand, the kind of lie that always gets people in trouble in murder mysteries.” She smiled at him. “She’s not a True Believer. The personality profile’s wrong, and so was her account of her first NDE. Her references check out, and her interview confirms what I thought when I first met her. She’s exactly what she seems to be: a premed student doing this for extra credit.”
“Okay,” he said. “Great. Let’s get started. I’ll go get Nurse Hawley.” He left the lab. After a moment, Amelia emerged from the dressing room with a hospital gown on over her jeans and the sleep mask dangling from her neck. She looked around questioningly.
“Dr. Wright’s gone to get the assisting nurse,” Joanna said.
“Oh, good,” Amelia said, coming over to her. “I didn’t want to tell you with him around. I didn’t tell you the truth before. About why I picked this project.”
Don’t lead, Joanna thought, especially not when you think you know the answer. Amelia ducked her head, the way she had before. “The real reason I picked it was because of Dr. Wright. I thought he was cute. That doesn’t disqualify me from being a volunteer, does it?”