The Inquisitor (18 page)

His lilt had definitely acquired an edge. Earl tried to chuckle, hoping to lower the tension a notch, but the sound came out dry and cheerless.

The fire in Jimmy's eyes died, and he let out a loud sigh. "Sorry, Earl. I guess I'm on a hair trigger as much as everyone else these days."

Earl shrugged. "It's understandable."

"I also can't help thinking that if I hadn't goaded you into coming up here last

Saturday, you wouldn't be in the mess-"

"Hey, I needed to see what goes on."

"I sure didn't mean you to get obsessed by it and go sneaking around the place at all hours."

"I'm not obsessed."

"And look what happened tonight. You could have been badly hurt. For God's sake, play it smart. There's probably nothing more to this than you interrupted a bit of petty larceny. If we know the nursing is slack up here, so must the thieves in our little community."

"Play it smart?"

"Yeah. Play it smart. We all have big enough problems to deal with as it is. Let security take care of creeps who would sneak into rooms and steal stuff from little old ladies. I'm serious about this, Earl."

It sounded like good advice.

"Maybe Sadie herself would have an idea who it could be," Jimmy added, "if she noticed anyone taking too close an interest in her stuff."

Maybe.

Except Jimmy didn't know that the creep sneaking around tonight could be killing patients. From the size it might have been anyone. Even a woman, come to think of it. Certainly Monica Yablonsky had the physique to knock him on his can. As for males, so did that bulldog Wyatt if he was involved. Even Stewart might have done it because of whatever he might be trying to keep secret up here. Or most troubling of all, it could be a person he didn't know, a cipher among the four thousand people who worked at St. Paul's and were not doctors, his or her motive totally unknown.

He shivered.

A search vast enough to discover someone like that would be hopeless. Better this attacker turn out to be just some small-time crook after all.

He declined Jimmy's offer of help and made it outside to his car by himself.

As he unlocked the door, his brain spun into overdrive, unable to shake the idea that what had happened tonight was somehow connected to the unexplained deaths on that floor. And the possible suspects expanded anywhere from those who might be on some twisted mission, seeing themselves destined to put cancer patients out of their misery, to anyone who'd stop at nothing to cover up a scandal. Anyone from Hurst on high to God knew who down low. Nor could he keep the nightmare scenario from popping up again, that it could be anyone and the motive anything.

Faces flashed through his head. He couldn't shut them out.

Friends, colleagues, anybody the least bit zealous about euthanasia in the past, pro or con, came to mind, even… No, that went too damn far. Time to go home and get some sleep.

A few deep breaths of the cool night air slowed the maelstrom in his head. But an image played repeatedly in his thoughts during the drive home, then recurred later that night, during his dreams.

In it a shrouded figure with glittering eyes hovered over Sadie Locke's bed, reaching for her.

The dreams came at the end of sleep this time.

Sometimes I stood at the top of the stairs and called down to her.

No answer.

No lights on in the basement either.

Yet I'd definitely heard a noise down there.

Other times I walked along the corridor leading to his office.

The lights were dim.

As I drew closer I heard the sound of water running. Lots of water. Like someone filling up a bathtub.

Except there should be no such thing down here.

Or the dream would begin with no hint where it would ultimately take me. It could start in the middle of a sunny day at a park with green grass, cool caressing breezes, and warmth under the blaze of orange and yellow leaves. Or were those clues as well? Had it been sunny that day? Did we go to the park? I couldn't remember. But yes, the season would be fall. Not that I recalled seeing the colors of the foliage. I knew because of the date, November 9, 1989- a date that had become lodged in my head like a bullet, a day the world changed for the better but my universe collapsed.

Was that why he'd chosen that day- to make sure no one would ever forget the anniversary?

Maybe.

Or perhaps our imminent visit had precipitated the choice- he couldn't face us- and he simply took advantage of a coincidence of history, a time when everybody else would be glued to the television and wouldn't interrupt.

Sometimes the points of view got changed about, and I would be inside Jerome's head, forced to experience how alone he must have felt in those desperate yet methodical moments.

And then I'd be back at the beginning again, dreading but not precisely knowing the events to come.

But no matter how or where they started, all the dreams led me to the same spot and all ended the same way.

I stood in darkness, listening to the cascade of water on the other side of the door. There were also strains of barely audible music. The dripping from my shoe when I took a step made me realize that a puddle had spilled under the threshold to form around my feet.

I called out again.

No answer.

I tried the handle.

Unlocked.

I turned it and pushed.

It swung open, and the sound of the streaming torrents trebled in volume. I could also recognize the song now.

"Hello?" I raised my voice to be heard above the din and peered into the semiblackness of the laboratory.

Still no response.

The digital readouts on the equipment, fluorescent green and fire red, cast a neon glow that shimmered on the surface of the flooded floor. At the middle, like an inverted fountain, a huge cascade of water spouted from what must have been a broken pipe in the ceiling. The spray caught enough illumination to glitter like a downpour of emerald and ruby sparkles, but something dark and solid hung in its center.

I should have just turned and left, gone for a maintenance man.

But that dark shape drew me forward.

As I stepped closer, it became a human form, like someone standing under a shower, head slumped forward and shoulders rounded to receive the full force of the streaming water on the neck and upper back. Nearer still, I felt droplets from the spray as it cascaded off the top of the person's crown, creating a domed effect. Knowing I shouldn't, I ducked inside the watery cupola and looked up to see a downturned face looking at me. Its wet skin reflected the ambient light, making it seem coated in a sheen of olive and purplish paint. The eyes bulged as if he were enraged, his cheeks were bloated to the bursting point, and a tongue swollen to the girth of a Polish sausage hung twisted from the side of his mouth.

I screamed and woke in a sweat.

For an instant I felt the relief that always flooded through me when I escaped the nightmare.

But dawn slashed across my eyes, a light shredded by the horizontal blinds, and reminded me of the old woman's room.

And Garnet's ambush.

The never-ending dread of getting caught settled in for another day. I could hardly escape it anymore. Even in my other self, it would leech through from time to time, which meant someone might spot that I'm scared and get suspicious.

Shit.

At least Earl hadn't recognized me; if he had, the police would already be at the door.

But what the hell had he been doing there? And how did he know to get the old lady to safety? Could he be on to everything, could he have figured it all out? Christ, he might even have been the creeper on the ward last week.

My skin grew clammy again, adding to the sour aroma from the already damp sheets. I threw them off in disgust, retreated to the shower, and turned the cold water on full. The blast of icy needles overrode my runaway thoughts and helped me focus, not that that offered much comfort. As I tried to rein in my worst fears and sort out pure imaginings from fact, a few gnawing realizations shoved everything else into the shadows.

Whoever had been the figure in the hallway, it didn't change the fact that Garnet had been skulking around last night. And whatever reason Garnet had had to move the old lady out and keep watch in her room, he now knew for certain that she'd been in danger. Which meant he'd be more watchful than ever up there, and there'd be no delaying or diverting him until he got at the truth.

The trouble would be, which truth? The one I planned for him to discover, or the reality behind it? But false leads might not fool the likes of Earl. All the pieces in their entirety were there to be found, and he definitely had the smarts not only to find them but also to fit them into place.

Time to accelerate the plan.

Sunday, July 13, 6:10 p.m.

"Sit down, Thomas." Jane felt eerily calm and totally in charge. She'd had a sense of complete control all weekend, first refusing to see him, then instructing him to show up at her apartment. That he'd arrived twenty minutes early only enhanced her heady my-way-or-the-doorway attitude.

He didn't stretch out on her living room rug as he usually did while waiting for supper, but took one of the upholstered chairs, which seemed a size too small, making him bend like a half-folded lawn chair.

The sight of him made her giggle.

He immediately smiled. "Well, that's better. God, I thought you had bad news, it felt so serious in here."

She said nothing.

Immediately he leaned forward, his features funneling into a pointed look of concern. "What's up, J.S.?"

She never really liked how he'd appropriated Dr. G.'s nickname for her. It felt like an intrusion on something private she shared with a special friend.

She studied Thomas's sleek, sturdy frame and lean, bearded face, thinking how his appearance had fed her schoolgirl ideal of a Tennessee woodsman, hard as an oak ax handle, yet still more boy than man. Well, time to grow him up. See what he could make of himself.

"I'm pregnant."

He appeared to stop breathing.

The seconds crept by in discreet silence, as if trying not to eavesdrop.

"Thomas, did you hear me?"

"Jesus, Jane, give me a moment. That's quite a shock."

"Really? Uh, how many times have we made love? A hundred, maybe? And do you remember putting on a new condom each time we sampled seconds? Look, I may have been as lax as you, but we were a team in this one. Do me a favor and spare me the surprise." The impatience she felt surprised her. But what the hell, let it rip. She'd no time for bullshit. Not now.

He gaped up at her as if she were a stranger.

She put a hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair. "Forget kind lies, Thomas. I need to know. Do you want your baby and to be a daddy, or not?" Her voice sounded serene despite the abruptness of her words.

His jaw slipped another notch.

"And I won't beg, damn it. If you don't want to share the child, you're out of here, and I get a lawyer."

He seemed to fold up a little more in his chair.

Think only of the baby, she reminded herself, and the freedom exhilarated her, liberated her in a dozen ways. From Mom's inevitable disappointment in her, from the disapproval of all Grand Forks, from the clucking tongues at St. Paul's- their hold on her slipped like chains to the ground. Second-guessing and hesitation about what to do vanished. Work? She'd keep her job as long as possible. Where to go? She'd stay here in her apartment. Whom to count on for no shit about how she ought to have been more careful? Her little brother, Arliss.

Decisions and answers flew into place- snap, snap, snap. She felt weightless.

Thomas stared up at her in absolute awe.

His expression fueled her exuberance over having taken charge.

"I've never seen you this way," he said, sounding totally incredulous. "You're… you're… radiant."

It's the hormones, stupid, she wanted to say, but didn't. Yet her silence caused a weight to tug on the middle of her chest, as if she'd allowed him to snag her in flight and pull her back toward the ground.

"I mean it, Jane. You're absolutely glowing." He got to his feet, walked to where she stood, and put his arms around her.

She resisted. "No. Tell me what you want."

"I love you."

"Yeah, right. How about the child?"

He grinned. "I'd be proud to be a daddy with you."

She watched his eyes dilate as fully as she'd ever seen, even in lovemaking. But from desire? Not this time. He looked more as if he'd been caught in the middle of telling a joke and a bomb had gone off.

Her scrutiny must have made him feel defensive. "What?" he said, his grin widening.

"Proud?"

"Yeah, proud. I'm surprised but proud." He grinned wider still, seeming to warm to the word he'd chosen, and lowered his head to kiss her.

She ducked out from under his lips and held him at arm's length. "Proud!" she said, as if she found the term repulsive.

All at once he looked even less sure of himself.

It made her want to attack harder. "What the hell does proud mean? You intend to put a notch on your… your… well, your whatever, because you knocked me up?"

The pupils pulsed bigger than ever, then narrowed to pinpoints.

She'd only seen people's eyes do that in a strobe light.

He mouthed air a few times, but no words came out.

Her impatience hit the stratosphere. "Well, here's a news flash, buddy. I'm not your or anyone else's trophy." She knew somewhere in her head that her behavior had careened from bitchy to totally unreasonable and back. Yet as he flinched under her onslaught, she loved it.

"Shit, Jane, I'm sorry-"

"So am I."

"But don't be so angry."

"Why not? I feel angry."

"But-"

"But what? Speak up, Thomas."

To her astonishment, a nervous chuckle bubbled out of him. He tried to stifle it, but instead he broke into a loud, rolling guffaw that rumbled from deep within his chest. "You're a real firecracker tonight," he managed to say, and knelt in front of her. "Forgive me, beat me, scold me, but I am delighted, proud, happy, surprised, eager, ecstatic- stop me if I get the right word- to be the father of your child."

All her anger melted away.

He held out his arms to her, beckoning with that damned seductive grin of his.

She lunged, knocking him on his back, and pinned him under her, then straddled his chest, her knees on his arms. "So you want to be a dad?"

"I want to be a dad."

"And you want me?"

"I love you."

"You want to love, hold, and obey?"

"Oh, yeah. Especially the obey part. Or you kill me, right?"

"Right!"

She felt jubilant, as if she'd won a great victory, stood up to the fates, spat in their eye, seized the brass ring, and cliche of all cliches, done it all her way.

And gotten herself a sexy woodsman from Tennessee to boot.

Just like Daisy Mae.

Monday, July 14, 9:30 p.m.

Earl leaned back in his study chair and let the speed dial of his cellular ring through to Michael's house. The man would have to run the department during death rounds tomorrow and needed a heads-up. Should the anticipated fireworks take place, it could be a long session.

"Hello?" Donna answered with the throaty slur of someone who's been asleep.

"Donna, it's Earl. Did I wake you? Sorry. I wanted to speak with Michael. I thought you guys would be up." They were one of the last holdouts in his age bracket who stayed up to watch the eleven o'clock news.

"But he's in ER this evening."

Oh, shit. "Of course, how stupid of me. I can't keep up with the schedule anymore," he said quickly, wanting to get off the line. "I'll call him there. You get back to sleep. Good night." He hung up before she could say anything.

He'd made other calls over the years to the homes of staff members only to be told by a puzzled spouse that the person should be in ER. And he always played the absentminded professor, claiming to have forgotten the schedule. But he could no more forget what shifts he'd assigned to people than his own phone number. Everyone had their regular slots. They knew them; he knew them. An ER physician's life revolved around the damn schedule: who gets what vacations, who works Christmas, who does New Year's Eve. There's no steadier headache for a chief than making sure every hour of every day of every year is covered. Michael didn't do Monday evenings. So unless he had pulled a last-minute switch with someone- not a total impossibility- he had lied to Donna about where he'd gone.

Catching someone out always cost Earl. He didn't like knowing the personal problems of people he worked with. But trouble at home often translated into trouble at work. So he kept a close eye on the men and women whose secret lives he'd unintentionally discovered. But to find it out about his friend, colleague, and acting chief of the department meant worry on all three fronts and having to walk on eggshells at a whole new level.

Please let me be wrong about this one, he thought, ringing ER. "Hi, it's Dr. Garnet. Who's on call tonight?"

"Dr. Green and Dr. Kradic," said the clerk, naming the two veterans who had manned the shift for years. "Do you wish to speak to one of them?"