After speeding almost blindly through traffic and parking Douglas on the third floor of the garage directly adjacent to the main building at St Theresa’s, I made my way to the seventh floor of the second tower.

            Walking tersely out of the elevator I was greeted by a dimly lit corridor. I moved quickly, feet pattering anxiously on the ceramic floor and almost barreled into the tall counter at the nurses’ station.

            “Where’s Henry Cho’s room, please?”

            “I’m sorry ma’am, visiting hours are over.” The woman behind the desk was short and squat. Her face was pulled in an unimpressed almost bored sulk. Her name tag read Sally.

            “I don’t care about visiting hours. I just want to see my friend.”

            “I’m sorry but at this time of night I’m only allowed to admit persons who are closely related to the injured.” Her eyes raked over me slowly, taking in the casual slacks and blouse I’d been wearing at work today, coupled with my worried almost wild expression.

            A scowl was etched sharply into her face. This woman dealt with whiny patients, domineering doctors, and pushy visitors all day. My pleas to see my hurt friend were falling on unsympathetic ears, but I was well beyond caring what some grouchy night nurse thought of me.

            “I don’t care what the rules say. I’ll go through every room on this floor until I find him, or you can make this easy and just tell me where he is!”

            “How about I call security and have you forcibly removed from the building, or you can make this easy and come back tomorrow at nine o’ clock during visiting hours.”

            “Ugh! Why won’t you just let me go?”

            “It’s a simple question. Are you family?” She gave me the once over again, this time with a noted insensitive scrutiny. In this woman’s mind she couldn’t possibly see how a Black woman was in any way related to an Asian man; at least not without a wedding band.

            But how could I explain to a stranger the complexity of our relationship. Yeah, we obviously weren’t blood related, but she didn’t know I’d spent countless nights having dinner with his family as a child; that I considered his parents my parents too. Or the hundreds of letters sent from summers we had to spend apart. Or that he was always the first person I called when something exciting or sad or scary happened. 

            Family wasn’t just about the blood we may or may not have between us.  It’s about knowing that when I need him, he’s there. And I’ll be damned before I let some surly old woman keep me from my best bud when he needs me. There’s a reason they call me hurricane Evelyn.

            But just as I was rolling up my sleeves, fingers primed and itching to choke a bitch if necessary, Han walked down the hall.

            He was a slightly older more somber version of Henry, thin and tall with his hair often shaved short. He walked over to me and put an arm around my shoulder.

            “Hey, glad you came. His room’s this way.” He started herding me down the hall then caught a nasty glare from Sally the crotchety nurse. “It’s fine. She’s family.”

            Nurse Sally frowned but kept her mouth shut. I turned around and stuck my tongue out at her over my shoulder. She stuck her tongue right back out at me. Well, so much for professionalism or having some sort of sensitivity to people when their loved ones are hurt.

            Han led me about five doors down the hall and opened the door, walking in ahead of me. When I stepped in I saw Henry, sitting up flipping swiftly through the channels on the television set that hung over the foot of his bed; a cast covering his left arm. He looked at me calmly.

            “Oh, hey Evie. There’s never anything good on in the hospital.”

            And that’s when I cried. Started blubbering like a little bitch. Henry let out a surprised and amused laugh then looked past me to Han.

            “You told her it was just a fracture, right?”

            I felt Han stifling a laugh of his own beside me. “Yeah, on the phone.”

            “Then why is she crying?”

            “Don’t know, must be a chick thing.” I ran to his bedside and dragged a chair as close to the bed as I could get it. Henry sat back and turned his attention away from the TV.

            “Don’t cry. I’m fine, just the fracture in the wrist and a little bleeding. The doctors are going to examine me for tonight then send me on home. Why are you crying?” He sighed. “You know I’m no good at handling this emotional stuff.”

            “It’s not you,” I sniffed and wiped at my eyes. “It’s everything. This week has been so stressful, you’re just the catalyst.”

            Han walked over and handed me a box of tissues. His phone started ringing so he excused himself and stepped outside.

            “I’ve been so worried about Jackson, and then I’ve been getting those threatening notes, and then Detective Juarez yelled at me.”

            “Oh no!” He said mockingly. “He yelled at you? I bet that means the weddings off.”

            “God you know me too well.” I managed a chuckle through my tears. “This is just too much. What happened anyway?”

            “Well, a couple hours ago I was driving down I295 when out of nowhere this huge black SUV came hurtling at me. Tried to run me off the road! Weirdest case of road rage I’ve ever seen. I managed to stay on the highway, but I ran into the barrier. Snotrocket’s totaled.”

            I froze on the spot. A black SUV? Wasn’t I in a high speed chase with a similar car on that very same highway not two days ago? I thought of Henry, driving down the street in that vivid neon lime colored ogre of an SUV he called The Snotrocket. Anyone who’s seen that characteristic thing more than once would assume it was the same person driving it. And since I’d commandeered his car all this week with Douglas in the shop there was only one logical explanation.

            He thought you were me!

            I instantly felt sick. That psycho had tried to kill me, and hurt my best friend instead. It was my fault Henry was in this bed. True he wasn’t that hurt, but it could have been so much worse.  Henry took a sneaky glance out at Han, standing in the hallway with his back toward the door. Engulfed in the conversation he was having.

            “I got that information.”

            “What information.” I asked nonchalantly.

            “I know the name on the foreign account. The one with Bo’s missing money.” I sat on the edge of my seat, fears and terror lost to this moment of intrigue. “He had to do some digging, call in a couple favors, and everything might not have been on the up and up if you know what I mean, but we got it.”

            “Who is it?”

            “The name is Cara Len Sohen.”

            “Holy Shiznit, Batman!” Karalyn? Really?

            “We can assume that Cara Len is some kind of alternate spelling of her name, though not very original. She must have moved Bo’s money then decided to kill him.”

            “But, why?”

            “That’s the million dollar question. We can assume it was for revenge or something, but you never know with these things.”

            Han walked back in the room, color drained from his face. He put his cell phone back into his pocket then came to stand over Henry.

            “That was mom and dad on the phone. They’re on the way.”

            I stood instantly. “Goodnight, everybody.” I moved toward the door.

            “Wait, you’re leaving?”

            “If Mama and Papa Cho are coming, you know shit’s going down. I’m out. You’re on your own.” If I was a natural disaster, then the Cho’s were a global level catastrophe.

            “I can’t believe you’re scared of a little old lady.”

            “Oh, like you aren’t.”

            “Well, she is my mother. I’m terrified. You know how they get when one of us is hurt.”

            “Just because they care so much. I’ll call you later. Bye Han.” I made my way out, making sure to snarl at the unreasonably strict Nurse Sally on my way to the elevator.

            So Karalyn was the murderer. She had motive, means, and opportunity. She’d embezzled the money then killed him as revenge for all those years as his door mat. Though I was still having a hard time seeing that pushover of a woman as a killer. But like Henry had said you never really know people and I certainly didn’t know her well enough to assume she wouldn’t kill anyone if she got the chance. And there was no one on Earth Bo was crueler to. It made perfect sense.

            She’d had plenty of time to sprinkle the poison on Bo’s cake slice that day. As for the much thinner person I had been chasing down the highway a couple of nights ago, well, a woman that rich could always hire someone. Hell, even I knew a shady man in the no questions asked department who’d probably be willing to leave threatening messages for the right amount of money. Not that I’m accusing Johnny of anything; the man’s just hella suspicious. I doubt he’s the only shifty drifter in town anyway.

            Once I hit the ground floor my cell phone began to ring. Speaking of mothers, mine was calling now. Oh God, I couldn’t take any more bad news. I answered on the third ring.

            “Hey mom, what’s up?”

            “I’m down here at the police station. Jackson’s been arrested. For real this time.” I stopped walking.

            “What?!”

            “Your Aunt Jackie’s having a hysterical crying fit and your Grandma Sophie’s about to get in a fighting match with this uppity detective.”

            “I’m on the way!”

            Not wasting any time, I immediately left the hospital and headed Downtown to the police station. I had to convince Detective Juarez that he got the wrong man. I had to convince him the true murderer was Karalyn.