Seconds Away by Harlan Coben Read Free Book Online Page B

Ema whispered to me.
    I didn’t have a clue, so we kept walking.
    There was a big art project, I guessed, going on. Every door had a different little-kid drawing on it. Some doors had five or six. There were drawings of elephants and tigers and assorted animals. There were drawings of castles and mountains and trees. The ones that moved me were the drawings of a house—always rectangular with a triangle roof—complete with a stick-figure family on the green lawn. There was always a bright sun in the corner with a smiley face.
    Whoever drew those, I surmised, missed their homes and families.
    I was looking at the drawings, my eyes skipping from door to door, when I saw something that made me freeze.
    Ema looked at my face and said, “What’s wrong?”
    For a moment, I just stared at the door. Ema slowly turned and followed my gaze. A gasp escaped her lips.
    This door had only one drawing on it. There was only one subject. There was no background, no trees or high mountains, no stick-figure family or smiling sun in the corner.
    There was only a butterfly.
    “What the . . . ?” Ema turned back to me.
    There was no question about it. It was the same butterfly as I’d seen at Bat Lady’s, at my father’s grave, in one of Ema’s tattoos. The Tisiphone Abeona. Except, for some reason, the eyes were purple.
    I suddenly felt a deep chill.
    “Mickey?”
    I didn’t know what to say.
    “I don’t get it,” Ema said.
    “Neither do I, but we have to find a way into that room.”
    The door was right by the nurses’ station in the Intensive Care Unit. It was, in short, under constant watch. I looked around and figured, what the heck. I might as well try the direct route.
    “You two wait out of sight,” I said.
    “What’s your plan?” Ema asked.
    “I’m going to just walk in the door.”
    Ema made a face.
    “It’s worth a shot,” I said.
    Ema and Spoon moved to the end of the corridor where no one could see them. I walked casually toward the butterfly door. I was Mr. Relaxed, Mr. Cool. I almost started whistling, that’s how nonchalant I was about the whole thing.
    “And where do you think you’re going?”
    The nurse stared at me, her arms crossed. She frowned like that librarian who doesn’t believe your story about why you’re returning the book late.
    “Oh, hi,” I said, pointing at the door. “I’m visiting my friend.”
    “Not in that room you’re not. Who are you?”
    “Wait,” I said, dramatically snapping my fingers and then hitting myself on the side of the head. “Is this the fifth floor? I’m supposed to be on six. Sorry.”
    Before the nurse could say another word, I hurried away. I met up with Ema and Spoon down the corridor.
    Ema said, “Wow, you’re smooth.”
    “Do we need sarcasm right now?”
    “Need? No. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little.”
    “Maybe,” Spoon said, “I can go in, what with my clever disguise and all. I can just pretend I’m a doctor.”
    Ema said, “Spoon, that’s a great idea.”
    I looked at her, confused.
    “Well, it’s a great idea,” Ema said. “But let’s make a few adjustments.”

CHAPTER 11
    The nurses’ station was in the middle of two corridors. There were rooms on both sides of the station. Three minutes after my attempt to enter the butterfly room, Spoon sprinted up the opposite corner to the nurse who had stopped me from entering.
    “Nurse! I need a crash cart, stat!”
    “Huh?”
    “Stat,” Spoon said. “It means quickly.”
    “I know what it means but—”
    “Nurse, do you know the origin of the term?
Stat
is actually short for
statim
, which is the Latin term for ‘immediately.’”
    The nurse squinted at him. “How old are you?”
    “Twenty-seven.”
    Another frown.
    “Okay, I’m fourteen. But I’m one of those genius kids you read about.”
    “Uh-huh. And how come your scrubs have ‘Dr. Feelgood’ embroidered on the pocket?”
    “That’s my name! Do you have a problem with it?” He arched an