How Can I Help You by Laura Sims

Author:Laura Sims [Sims, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-07-18T00:00:00+00:00

My lower jaw has gone slack; I clack my teeth back together and keep my eyes tight on the screen. The most damning detail, of course, is the description of Jane Rivers “leaning over the bed and ‘embracing the patient oddly.’ ” I flash to Margo astride Julia on the bathroom floor in a literal enactment of that phrase. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to stare across the room at the woman who could easily be called “Merry Margo,” the woman who said she “left without notice, in the middle of a shift,” and certainly could have changed her name from Jane Rivers to Margo Finch and taken up library work in a distant town to hide in plain sight.

With unsteady hands, I click on the picture of Jane. It’s the only one they have, taken for her hospital ID, and shows an unsmiling, round-faced woman with blond hair down to her shoulders and blue eyes partly closed. Is it her? I look closer at the woman’s shuttered face and try to imagine her with darker hair pulled back in a bun, lips spread in a smile . . . Jesus. It could definitely be her, with a different hair color and style. Her face, as I well know, is changeable: apple-cheeked and open one moment, severe and guarded the next. Jane Rivers looks severe and guarded here. My god, I’m burning up. Sweating so much I have to wipe my brow.

Margo Finch is Jane Rivers—Jane Rivers is Margo Finch! I close my eyes and take a deep, shaky breath. Dozens. Dozens of deaths. Caused by my new friend at the circ desk.

“It’s too hot in here, isn’t it?” Yvonne says, suddenly standing before me. “They start overheating the building in October, you should know.” I didn’t see her approaching because I can’t see anything but the news my screen is screaming at me. Yvonne can’t see it from where she stands, but what if I showed her, told her? Your most popular circ clerk is a monster. A killer nurse. Part of me thinks I should. I should ask to speak to her in private, then tell her what I’ve learned. But how would the whole story sound to Yvonne, free of suspicion, fan of Margo Finch? Like a lunatic’s daydream. Or that’s what I tell myself.

The truth is: I don’t want to tell Yvonne; I don’t want to tell anyone.

“I think I’ll dress for summer tomorrow,” I say, laughing a little and wiping my forehead. I hope that’s all. I hope she’ll walk away now, leaving me to my electrifying screen. There must be more articles, more updates on the search. But Yvonne stays where she is. “When you have a moment, I’d love to hear how things are going—with the database review.” I scramble to collect myself. “Sure. Let me just run to the restroom . . . and dry off,” I say with a laugh. If I can splash cold water on my face and look myself over in the mirror, I can manage giving her an update.

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