The Haunted (Sarah Roberts 12) Page 9

  Aaron backed up and raised his hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll leave. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” The room grew silent. Everyone stared at him. “We came to learn of her whereabouts. We’ve found her in your care. Everything is fine now.” Aaron smiled wide as he reached the door to the office.

  “It’s not fine yet,” Kershaw said. “An investigation will have to be held into where and when Sarah was committed and how a body found its way into Sarah’s car.”

  Aaron stayed near the door. Parkman caught his eye and frowned. With a jerk of his head, Aaron got Parkman to follow him out into the corridor. The door to the office closed, leaving Kershaw and Williams alone in the room.

  “What’s with the about-face?” Parkman asked.

  Aaron checked to make sure the woman in yellow wasn’t close by. Then he leaned in close to Parkman. “How do we not know that this has been Sarah’s plan the whole time?”

  “What are you thinking?” Parkman asked.

  “She wanted to locate Cole. Now she has. Not only has she found him, she couldn’t just wait for him outside until he got off shift and walked to his car. There are stalking laws, harassment laws against that sort of thing. Why not commit herself for seventy-two hours? Spend three days in an asylum, scoping him out, learning his ways, getting to know him? Here we are, about to fuck that up for her when we both know Sarah can handle herself. She’s got Vivian, too.” He slapped Parkman’s arm. “We need to learn to step aside and only come when she calls for us.”

  Parkman looked away. He seemed to be thinking about it. “Makes sense. But something still doesn’t add up.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How do you explain the body in her car? Murder doesn’t fit into that picture. And if something happened where the murder was justified, Sarah wouldn’t leave the body in her car. The body was left on purpose, to be found, and she’s going to have to explain it. Or someone else will.”

  “Shit. You’re right. Then what’s really going on?”

  Parkman shrugged. “No idea. That’s why we’re here. At least we know Sarah’s here and so is Cole. Maybe this’ll wrap up faster than we anticipated.”

  The office door opened. Kershaw stepped out and started down the corridor toward the front doors.

  “C’mon guys,” he said over his shoulder.

  Aaron and Parkman fell in step behind him. When they were outside, Kershaw pulled up short of his car and turned around. For a second Aaron thought he was going to blast him for being aggressive back there, but he didn’t. He said something altogether worse.

  “Sarah’s in trouble. They’re holding her against her will and we have to get her out of here.”

  “What?” Parkman stammered. “What did Williams say?”

  “He’s hiding something and enjoying it. I’ve seen the gleam in his eye in a thousand assholes on the street. He’s in charge, protected by patient confidentiality. No one will dare challenge him. Without proper papers, no one will see Sarah for another two days. She’s alone in that asylum with Williams running the show and that Cole guy on shift right now.” Kershaw shook his head. “Something stinks. Even after I told him we found a body in Sarah’s car, his surprised act was see-through.” Kershaw put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Let’s head back to the station and see what we can do about this. Even if we can’t get Sarah out of here for the next two days, I’ll at least get them to grant me a visitation in light of the murdered woman in her car. We have to see that she’s okay. We just have to, because I don’t think she is. Something tells me she’s in a lot of trouble.”

  Kershaw spun on his heels and half walked, half ran for the car.

  “If he’s right,” Aaron said, “there goes my theory of her wanting to be here.”

  “It was only a theory,” Parkman added.

  Once they were all in Kershaw’s car, he squealed the tires on the way out of the parking lot.

  When Aaron looked back at the doors they had just exited, Dr. Williams was standing there, watching them leave.

  It looked like Williams was smiling.

  Chapter 17

  The scent of food wafting down the corridor from the dining area made her stomach ache. She hadn’t eaten since being brought in.

  Cole leaned down and whispered, “Your hands are secured to the wheelchair and they’re not going to be untied. I’ll be feeding you.”

  He pushed her chair toward the dining area.

  “What am I supposed to have?” Sarah asked.

  “Whatever’s cooking.”

  “No, not food, condition. What psychosis have you fabricated to get me here? I must be badass to be locked to a chair and a bed with no one saying anything about it.”

  “Your diagnosis is the Macdonald Triad.”

  “What’s that?”

  They entered an area filled with tables. Patients in various levels of dress and cleanliness meandered through the tables, plates of food in their hands. Someone laughed high and loud, the kind heard at a circus. Another person to Sarah’s right grunted.

  “The Macdonald Triad is also called the triad of sociopathy. Fancy words for a set of three behavioral characteristics with violent tendencies. Basically, you’re a predator who commits serial offenses. You destroyed your cabin, too.”

  She turned and glared at him. “I did what?”

  “You destroyed your cabin. Then killed that receptionist in Williams’ office. With your history, which has been documented in the media for years, it will be an easy sell.”

  “Why kill the woman? Why wreck the cabin? Only to justify why you locked me up? Or to cover up more of yours and Williams’ indiscretions?”

  “Beef stroganoff and steamed carrots are on the menu tonight,” he said, ignoring her questions. “You’ll enjoy the beef, Sarah. Think of this as your last meal.”

  He pushed her chair into a vacant corner by the window. He left her and started toward the food trays. Outside, the sun was an hour away from disappearing and still nothing from Vivian.

  Where are you? she asked. Could use a little help here.

  A woman pivoted to look at Sarah. She snapped her head Sarah’s way so fast that her body shook with the effort. Then the woman, dressed in a drab brown top and too-short shorts, shot to her feet.

  Sarah glanced at Cole who hadn’t noticed the woman’s odd behavior. When she looked back, the woman was already walking toward Sarah. Sarah jerked her hands up in defense, but the restraints held fast. The woman’s mouth moved, eyebrows twitched, and her hands clenched and unclenched as she strode toward Sarah.

  Ten feet from the wheelchair, the woman burst into a run and dove at Sarah. Out of reflex, Sarah flinched and shoved her body to the side of the chair, but couldn’t get too far.

  The woman smashed into the wall just behind the wheelchair, slamming her fists into the eggshell white paint, ranting gibberish.

  “Code one!” a man yelled from somewhere in the room.

  Then Cole was on the crazy woman, attempting to subdue her arms but without success as she flailed at the wall. Three other men show up and landed on the woman. A needle was produced and then they got her turned over, pushing her into the chair’s wheelbase. Moments later, they took the woman away as she kicked and screamed.

  Cole breathed deep, hitched up his pants and turned to Sarah.

  “Code one was for the schizophrenic patients who scream and punch the walls. Katy often hears voices and sees monsters that aren’t there.” Cole offered Sarah a sardonic smile. “I would too if my uncle locked me in a basement cage for twelve years and raped me daily until there was nothing left inside but fear, anger and a lovely schizo-affective disorder. Well, almost nothing left inside, there’s still a little something in Katy for me.” He leaned down and whispered, “But let’s keep that between us.”

  He walked away leaving Sarah in the chair, shaken from lack of food and the anger that almost felt like it was consuming her.

  Do I always have t
o deal with human scum? I seem to be haunted by them.

  But Sarah knew the answer. She would spend the rest of her days, however many she had left, dealing with men like Cole because she could fight back. Men like Cole were her prey. She was a predator after all. And she was here hunting Cole Lincoln and had added Dr. Williams to her list.

  Cole brought over a small plate of food, whisked a chair around in front of Sarah and stuck a fork full of moist beef in Sarah’s face. Taking anything from the sick man in front of her was the last thing she ever thought she could do, but nourishment offered a better chance at leaving this building. She had to eat. She opened her mouth. He hesitated, staring inside at her tongue, her throat. She almost closed it again, but the fork moved forward and she accepted the food.

  “The Macdonald Triad describes an obsession with fire setting, which you will do tonight. It also covers enuresis, or bedwetting, which you already did on your own. I have to thank you for that.” He smiled that horrid grin of his as he stirred her food and offered up more. “According to Dr. Williams, fire setting is a release of aggression. You, Sarah Roberts, seem quite aggressive.”

  As she listened to Cole rant on about her supposed conditions, she ate and thought of escape. Before the fire broke out in the hospital, she had to try to save as many people as she could. But how if she couldn’t even save herself?

  “After dinner,” Cole went on, “everyone will be going for closure group to see if they met their daily goals. You won’t be joining them. That’s the time when you’ll be investigating me.”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s right. You’ll have stored all my files and patient complaint forms in your room. How you did it will remain a mystery for most, but then they’ll locate my key card on your person when the fire marshal conducts his investigation.”

  The stroganoff was done and the carrots tasted horrible.

  “I’m done eating.”

  Cole set the plate aside and looked around the room. No one was close enough to hear them and even if they were, how much would it matter?

  Helena, the white-haired woman from earlier, who spoke of the burning coming in the night, stared at Sarah from the other side of the room.

  The burning, the burning …

  She looked at Cole’s face as he spoke, not hearing him. The burn marks on his face. The burning. Coming in the night. Sweet release. Now Cole wanted to burn the building down with all the patient files in Sarah’s room.

  It’s a cleansing.

  Vivian.

  A cleansing for Lance Williams and for Cole Lincoln. And who better to be blamed for the cleansing but Sarah Roberts, an old family friend who has been obsessed with Cole since he was her babysitter all those years ago?

  “By nine tonight, we’ll offer everyone their night meds,” Cole continued. “There will be Seroquel and Gabitril for sleep, and for depression, we’ll be offering Abilify. At eleven tonight, when everyone is drugged and falling into a psychotic dream-filled sleep, you’ll be preparing your masterpiece. A nurse will call for lights out and the fire will start. How does that sound?”

  “Wonderful.” It was Sarah’s turn to smile. Vivian was back. A couple of thoughts, accompanied by images came to Sarah in rapid succession. “But you forgot one thing,” she added.

  “What’s that?” Cole had a smug look on his face, like he was waiting for the punch line of a joke. “I haven’t forgotten anything. This plan was already in place before you began your little search for me. That woman who died took part in the search for you. She knew too much. Her body was found in your car. How the hell do you think you will ever walk away from here—”

  “Cole,” a man said.

  Dr. Williams had walked up behind him.

  “What?”

  “A cop and two others were just here looking for Sarah.”

  “And? What did they want?”

  “To see her.” He pointed at Sarah. “To talk to her. They found the body in Sarah’s car. The cop might become a problem.”

  Cole shook his head. “No, he won’t. It’s late. The fireworks are set to start in a few hours. It’s impossible for him to get the necessary warrants in that time. Who were the other two men?”

  “Her boyfriend, Aaron, and a friend, a man who only gave the name, Parkman.”

  A warmth coursed through her. They were here. They knew where she was. Her men. Her lover. How they found her so fast was a miracle, but it made her feel loved. She would get out of this, deal with Cole and Williams and be home for breakfast.

  “Too bad they missed out.” Cole turned back to Sarah. “We’ll be the last two sane men you ever see.” He got up and set the dinner plate on a table, then turned to Williams. “Don’t worry about them. Stay focused. Come find me after the closure group session is over. We get started as everyone heads to bed. I’ve got final rounds to make after I wheel her back to her room. I’ll leave you to finish the preparations.”

  Williams patted Cole on the back of the shoulder and stepped away, with what Sarah thought was a tight, worried look on his face.

  Cole grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed Sarah from the dining room toward the corridor that led back to her room.

  “Oh, yeah, you were saying I missed something,” Cole said.

  Vivian’s thoughts were clear in Sarah’s head. She knew what she had to do but wasn’t completely sure of the outcome.

  “The fire will be small and contained. Most of what you are planning will not happen.” The chair slowed momentarily, then picked up again. Low enough that only he could hear, she said, “Your last breath will be because I took it.”

  When they got to her room, he shoved her inside and slammed the door closed behind her without another word.

  She smiled as it all came clear.

  And she waited as any good hunter would.

  Chapter 18

  With no clock on the wall, Sarah had no way of knowing how long she sat in the wheelchair, waiting for Williams or Lincoln to show up. Her bladder ached, her throat was dry, mild images of Vivian’s past flitted through her mind and she had an itch. But none of that bothered her anymore. She had learned a long time ago some things were more important than taking a piss or scratching an itch.

  Over and over she thought about what Vivian had told her, examining it from all angles. More importantly this time, Vivian had shown her some of what was going to happen. Like a future déjà vu. As if she had been there, done that, but it hadn’t happened yet.

  There were uncertainties, but that didn’t sway Sarah’s belief that this would end in her favor. What was of utmost importance was that the files didn’t burn. Somewhere inside those files were the complaints of several patients. Complaints about Cole’s conduct.

  It appeared Cole has been assaulting women for more than fifteen years and getting away with it by putting himself in positions where his integrity would never come into question. Who would believe the word of a psych patient, especially one who invents voices and sees monsters?

  Sarah scanned the boxes from her chair. They were piled six high in the far corner of her room. With the single bulb—had to be a 60-watt—dangling over the bed, there was just enough light in the back corner to see where black marker had been used to mark the boxes with dates. Some of them went back four and five years.

  If they all held truths that Cole wanted destroyed, how come there were boxes dated that far back? Couldn’t someone have put it together by now? Or was this an old-boys’ club where doctors like Lance Williams help cover up for men like Cole?

  Sarah understood why Vivian directed her to go to Dr. Williams now. It was the only way to get this far into Cole’s world, this deep. And with him about to burn whatever evidence he was collecting, along with burning her too, and have the blame fall on Sarah, getting out of this was still in question.

  Vivian’s thoughts and messages gave her a little insight, but not enough to pull off an escape. She would need help. But from where? And when?

  Sudde
nly the uncertainties were ominous.

  She was tied to a chair with straps that were impossible for her to get out of. If they moved her to the bed, she would be strapped down there, too.

  Maybe outside help would come in time?

  The door clicked. It opened.

  Dr. Williams stepped inside, stuck his head back out to look up and down the hallway, then closed the door and locked it. He turned to face her, held up the key he locked the door with, smiled wide, then slipped it inside his coat pocket.