“I can’t believe this,” the mad woman said under her breath. In a hushed voice, she added, “Listen, I have a business proposal to make. If you agree, your son will get the best medical treatment there is.”

Mad, nuts, a total lunatic. That’s what this woman was. “I don’t know you and have nothing to talk to you about.” Sherry eyed the entrance to the waiting room. The security guards were still dealing with the drunkard, and her fellow waiting people gave no indication of wanting to help. Instead, they leaned back to watch the interesting distraction.

The woman extended her hand. “I’m Madison Fielding.”

“I am not interested in doing any business with you. Now leave us alone. Please.”

Ms. Fielding—if that was her real name—left the waiting room cursing under her breath.

Obviously, Sherry had found the right words. She relaxed. Rita Mae would never believe this.

Not even five minutes later, the woman was back. This time with a nurse in tow. “I’m Abigail Tayler. I want to apologize for keeping you waiting so long.” She half-turned to Ms. Fielding. “If we had known—”

Ms. Fielding waved her off.

Sherry glanced between the nurse and Ms. Fielding. What are you waiting for? Someone wants to help Jake. The rest doesn’t matter.

She stood. Her stomach roiled and stars appeared in her line of sight. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, so she knew what to do; she squeezed her eyes shut and waited. When she opened her eyes again, both women looked at her strangely.

She took a deep breath. “I’m Sherry Miller. This is my son, Jake. He’s got a high fever.”

“I see,” the nurse said. “Please follow me.”

Doing just that, she passed Ms. Fielding, who was grinning, making her look even more of a lunatic than when she had arrived.

“Is it our turn?” Jake croaked.

“Yeah, honey.” Looking over her shoulder, she realized that Ms. Fielding was following them. Her instincts screamed at her to say something to the nurse, but what if she sent them back to the waiting room then? No, she couldn’t risk that.

The nurse tapped her tablet several times. “You said your son’s name is Jake, right, Ms. Miller?”

“Yeah.”

Apparently, the nurse had found Jake’s information, because she nodded. “Please come this way.”

They walked past the treatment area, where each bed and treatment table were sectioned off by curtains, and entered a separate room that contained just one treatment table. It seemed to be equipped for much severe medical emergencies. Sherry had never been in the area toward the back of the ER. Probably for a good reason. Being treated here had to cost a fortune. Money that Medicaid certainly wouldn’t cover and that she couldn’t afford.