Albatross by J. M. Erickson Page B

was victimizing someone, and she was going to stop it. This ran against “self-preservation at all cost,” which Samantha seemed to constantly project. He knew she had been abandoned as a baby. After years of knowing her, he eventually discovered that she had been in a number of foster care homes until she finally got to the one that had the only person he was sure she loved, her sister, Becky. This sister had to be someone special, he thought. Maybe a caretaker? Maybe an actual mother? Protector? She had to be someone Samantha could intuitively trust—someone real, genuine, and not fake. He knew her family was financially strapped, so prostitution for Samantha was not only a way to make money but also a way to connect—at least physically. That made David sad to think about. He envisioned a young, vulnerable woman trying to make connections that had time limits and prices attached. Always conditions. David remembered having lunch with a female colleague and Samantha joining them ever-so-reluctantly. While he was struck by her social awkwardness, it was apparent from the conversation his colleague expertly extracted from her that having lunch, dating, going to a movie, or having a swim—all these normal, everyday events—were simply alien to Samantha. She just didn’t have a normal or easy life, he had often thought after that revealing lunch. And still, after all that, she wanted to help some guy she didn’t even know. Remarkable, David thought. David pulled himself back to the conversation. She’s not even going to say hi to him? he wondered.
    “So you’re not even going to stop by to see him?” David asked further.
    Samantha smiled again. She folded her arms, and her eyes seemed to get unevenly dark. “Dr. Caulfield, they removed me from the case two months ago. I asked too many clarifying questions. I was then transferred to another ward. I ‘collected’ this file as it was the one they brought in from the field, and I am betting the one that the attendant will be bringing you will be somehow ‘different.’” She continued, “Over the last month, I have spent more time at my other work address in the evening and seemingly less time at my home and the hospital. I go to work as business as usual, but I am certain something is wrong there and I am being watched.” Samantha handed him a simple cell phone. “This cell phone has my work cell number and information on a meeting place where I might interview new clients. Don’t call me at my day job. Right now, I am going downstairs to my massage appointment a girlfriend has set up for me. I am sure they called to confirm I am there now. Good luck.” And as simply as that, she walked out, sunglasses on, backpack slung over her shoulder, looking like so many older students or young moms in the neighborhood. She was dressed to fade into the background.

    It was rare for David to be speechless. This was one of those times. It was surreal and completely foreign to him. While he had seen some strange stuff both within the bounds of the law and out, this situation seemed very uncomfortable and covert. Samantha couldn’t just give me a cell phone number but a whole cell phone instead , David thought.
    “Michele? When my new client gets here, make no mention of Ms. Littleton’s arrival please.”
    Without hesitation or question, Michele confirmed she would not recall.
    He was still pondering all that had transpired when the door chimed again. This time, it was a young brunette woman with dark features. This nurse was not fully comfortable in her white uniform. She also held a large case file in her hand and David’s new client in tow. She was not pretty but also not homely either. “Strong” or “athletic” would be the best words to describe her. Maybe she was of Mediterranean descent. Her mannerisms seemed all business to David. There was something about her eyes David didn’t like. Not exactly nurturing for a nurse, David thought.
    “Good morning, Dr.