The Crossover (14 page)

“Mr. Thompson, now do you know why you are here?”

“Well, I thought I was here to hypnotize the latest victim to help her recall the incident. I guess not.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But when you use keywords in
Google
such as
Ecstasy, date rape, drug effects,
you can expect VICE to come knocking at your front door.”

I calmed down. It was close to midnight and I was emotionally exhausted. My adrenaline was still high from being inches away from being punched in the nose.

From the very beginning we started on separate pages. I was a person of interest and they believed I was confessing to those horrible crimes.

After a number of calls were made I was cleared and Andy drove me home.

“Nurse Matthews, I’m Clay Thompson and I’m here to pick up my prescription for my prep. I have a colonoscopy in the morning. Is it as bad as they say it is?” I asked.

I saw two male pharmacist technicians in the back bust out in laughter. I took that as a bad sign.

“Mr. Thompson, unfortunately we are out of sanitizer and we will have to reschedule your appointment.”

I’d fasted for 24 hours in preparation for the procedure. I was delighted I could go across the street and OD on some
Popeyes Chicken.
But I was also puzzled.

“Sanitizer?”

Somehow sanitizer didn’t seem strong enough to get the job done.

With one hand on the steering wheel and the other frantically searching for a chicken wing, I drove home feeding my face. By the time I reached my house I had biscuit crumbs and spilled coleslaw all over my shirt and trousers.

Upon entering my drive I saw an amubulance parked in front of Joanne’s house. Paramedics were performing CPR on her at the foot of the stairwell. It was manic.

“We’re losing her, stand back. Clear!”

I saw Joanne’s lifeless body, her blouse was ripped open. The defibrillator didn’t appear to have any effect. Her back arched violently every time they applied a shock.

I was standing just outside her door and I was watching her slip away. All the nasty feelings I had for Joanne were erased in a fleeting second. She was dying in front of me and it was so distressing to watch. It broke my heart, I wanted her to make it. They quickly loaded Joanne on to a gurney and guided her into the waiting ambulance. Her face was not covered up so I assumed she was still alive. Aside from combat it was the most stressful thing I had ever witnessed. I felt helpless and disturbed.

I got in my car and followed the ambulance to Hinchingbrooke Hospital about ten minutes away. I kept praying that Joanne would pull through.

“Please Lord, save my friend.”

I accompanied the paramedics as they huriedly removed Joanne from the ambulance.

The lead paramedic took control.

“Clear the passageway, we’re coming through!”

I saw Joanne’s face,she was turning a greyish color.

“Is she gonna make it?” I asked nervously, keeping step with the paramedics.

“And who are you?” the lead paramedic asked.

“I’m Clay Thompson,” I replied.

“Okay, Mr. Thompson please take a seat in the waiting area. We may need you to sign some paperwork.”

I did as I was instructed but I didn’t know why they would require a signature from me. I was a nobody.

While sitting in the waiting area I killed time by watching the News on the overhead monitor. I wondered what happened to Joanne. My first thought was that maybe she had a heart attack.

I waited, waited and waited.

“Mr. Thompson, wake up,” a young nurse said as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Yes?” I responded, wiping the sleep from eye.

“Your wife has recovered. She collapsed. It’s a good thing we got there in time. She’s resting but you can see her now.”

My first inclination was to advise the nurse she had made a mistake. Although we shared the same surname it was spelled differently. But I knew if I told her I was just a neighbor I would be asked to leave.

“Right this way, she’s the first bed on the right in room 226.”

I was nervous about being an imposter. I also thought about what if Joanne woke up and saw me there. She probably would have me thrown out. But I wanted to see that she was all right.

There she was lying under the blanket soundly asleep with a mask over her nose. They had dressed her in light blue pajamas. I was surprised to discover she was bald. The EKG blipped at a steady pace. I was ever so quiet. I sat in the chair next to her. I said another prayer for her.

My head bobbed and bobbed as I tried to fight sleep. Eventually, I succumed to emotional fatigue.

I opened my eyes just slightly and saw Joanne staring at me wide awake.

She spoke in a soft but weak voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“Stalking you,” I responded.

She smiled.

“I must be the first chemo patient in the history of the world who has a stalker.”

“I just wanted to check on you, maybe I should go,” I said as I slowly stood.

“No, it’s okay. Stay.”

Joanne and I engaged in mostly small talk at first. You would have never known we were enemies just the day before. It turned out to be that we were both nice people who just met under negative circumstances. As she began to fade into slumber she promised to make me dinner when she was released. She also had one request.

“Clay, in my purse are my keys. Could you feed Nemo for me?”

“Sure,” I replied with a smile.

“Groovy,” she responded.

I waved goodbye. She waved back.

Nemo was her beloved goldfish.

J
oanne was hospitalized for a week. I visited her every day I and always brought her favorite snack, trail mix. We were complete opposites of each other but we connected on our own level.

She was a highly educated introvert who never escaped the 1960s. She was extremely uncomfortable and anxious when she had to engage hospital staff. Joanne was like a nervous Chihuahua around everyone except me. She was incredibly attached to her fish Nemo and addressed it as if it were a person. Somehow she allowed me into her private inner circle and slammed the door shut behind me. I embraced her friendship.

Joanne had an interesting past. She had a PhD in Philosophy and was fluent in Russian. Joanne was one of the most highly-functioning people I’d ever met. She was extremely logical and analytical in her thinking. The last day of her hospital stay I brought along some magic tricks to entertain her. She was able to use logic to explain how I performed every trick, even the most deceptive ones. Over the course of our friendship I’d spend many days and evenings trying to deceive her without success. I wasn’t disappointed I was impressed.

The evening before Joanne was released we had an interesting conversation.

“So what’s on the TV?” I asked as I pulled up a chair at her bedside.

“It’s a very odd film. Bruce Willis looks so young. Must be a dated movie,” Joanne replied.

“Hmm, is it
Die Hard?”

“Don’t think so, but there is a very precocious little boy who clearly is carrying the film.”

“You mean
The Sixth Sense.
I love that movie it’s a classic. It’s a ghost story. This movie has a great twist at the end. The story comes full circle,” I commented.

“At what point in the story does the audience find out Bruce Willis is actually dead?”

I rolled my eyes at Joanne.

“And what makes you think he’s dead?” I replied.

“Well, it is pretty obvious. Don’t you think?”

“Please explain, Ms. Einstein?” I demanded in jest.

“Well, the only dialogue he has is with the boy for starters. I don’t really care for these types of movie. The idea of spirits returning from the dead is completely inconceivable. Don’t you think so?”

I scratched my head.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Jo and I chatted fifteen minutes past normal visiting hours. After seeing the nurse peek into the room for a third time I knew it was time to go. I gave Jo a hug (for the first time) and when I broke my embrace I saw a beautiful smile. On my way out she made another observation. She called me out.

“Clay?”

“Yes, Jo,” I replied as I stood in the doorway.

“Can I have my watch back?”

“Watch, what watch?” I responded with a sheepish look.

“The watch you stole off my wrist when you hugged me.”

I walked into my house and Missy was by the back door so I let her out. I saw Carl in the back yard. He was slurping on a small carton of OJ. He asked about Joanne and I told him she was recovering nicely and would be home the following day.

“Clay, I can’t get my head around this case and I’m running out of time.”

“What do you mean, Carl?”

“The Press wants to break this story wide open but so far they are keeping their powder dry. But we only have a small window before the shit hits the fan. And that window is closing fast, mate.”

“I noticed the killings weren’t covered in the Press. I thought they would be all over this one,” I said.

“The Press knows this nut job wants his story plastered on all the headlines. But if I have it my way he will go down as one of the most dangerous serial killers you never heard of.”

“So how did you convince the Press to hold tight?”

“I’m afraid I can’t comment on that,” Carl replied as he took another big swig.

“What about the girl, the victim? Is she close to consenting to hypnosis?”

“The family is divided. Her mum and older sister want her to go through with it. But her dad is a right pain in my arse. He’s dead against it. Something has got to give before we have another dead lass on our hands.”

“Hi, Clay. Come on in. Dinner is ready,” Jo said as she shut the door behind me.

I gave Jo a small bouquet of flowers, welcoming her back home. Inside her house were large bookcases on both walls in her living room. Her house resembled a mini library, literally hundreds of books in different genres mostly nonfiction. I took my time browsing some of the titles and it was obvious Jo was fascinated with Russian espionage cases dating back to the turn of the century. She appreciated the spy-vs-spy rivalry between the CIA and the KGB. Jo was proud of her literary collection and it was clear she had an investigative mind. She loved solving mysteries.