“Now you’re saying it.”
“Don’t.”
Tuesday arrived with rain.
At 8:16 a.m., Lily was asleep.
Rebecca was filling out insurance paperwork when the windows began vibrating.
Not violently.
A low rhythmic hum.
She looked toward glass.
Another vibration.
Then another.
The sound grew.
Engines.
Rebecca stood.
“No.”
She moved to window.
Below, motorcycles were turning into the far hospital parking area.
One.
Two.
Five.
Nine.
Fourteen.
Rebecca’s mouth opened.
“You lying son of a—”
A nurse entered.
“Rebecca?”
She turned.
The nurse looked uncertain.
“There are… some men here.”
“I know.”
“For Lily.”
Rebecca marched toward elevator.
She found Raymond Bishop in the lobby.
He was impossible to miss.
Six-foot-four.
Broad.
Gray-and-brown beard.
Black leather vest.
Tattooed forearms.
Behind him stood perhaps twenty bikers.
Not seven.
Twenty.
Some held paperwork.
Several carried no helmets because security had asked them to leave gear near entrance.
One man held flowers and looked embarrassed.
Rebecca walked directly toward Raymond.
“You said seven.”
He lifted both hands.
“Seven are testing today.”
“Then who are they?”
“Rides.”
“Rides?”
“Nobody comes alone.”
“This is exactly what I told you not to do.”
“I know.”
Rebecca pointed toward windows.
“You shook the building.”
“That was Frank.”
A man behind him said:
“My exhaust needs work.”
Raymond turned.
“It needed work before today.”
Frank shrugged.
Rebecca wanted to stay angry.
She looked at the faces.
No one was smiling for photographs.
No phones.
No cameras.
Several looked nervous.
One man clutched a donor packet like he was waiting for court.
Raymond lowered his voice.
“If you want them gone, they go.”
Rebecca looked at him.
Then toward the elevators.
“Lily is awake now.”
“Sorry.”
“She’ll ask.”
“What do you want us to say?”
Rebecca thought.
“The truth.”
Raymond nodded.
The nurse appeared beside them.
“Mr. Bishop?”
“Yes.”
“We’re ready for the first donor group.”
Raymond removed his cap.
“Lead on.”