Deadly Double (6 page)

He was already scheduled off for the weekend, but if he took any more time off from the Institute right on the heels of a disappearance, surely he’d raise more than a few eyebrows. Speaking of which, he thought, grabbing his cup again, he should see if anything was on the news.

He strode into the living room and clicked on the television. On channel 2, news anchor Warren Savage stared back at him. Keystone’s emblem and digital graphic of a white chalked-body projected from the corner of the screen.

“
Police were called to Keystone Mental Institute early this morning when a prominent doctor at the facility this morning was found dead in the trunk of her car. Minutes later, the institute discovered a patient was missing. Authorities are trying to piece together whether the two incidents are connected. The name of the doctor as well as the missing patient has yet to be released at this time.”

William pressed the mute button on the remote.
Dead? Found in the trunk of a car? Murdered?
He stared at the reported for a few frantic heartbeats before bolting to the kitchen to retrieve the phone. Upon picking up the receiver, he quickly hung up. Who was he going to call, and what was he going to say?

“The truth,” he thought. He would say he saw everything on the news. He nodded, telling himself it sounded good, and grabbed the phone again.

While he waited for the line to connect, the words to his prepared speech jumbled inside his head. On the fifth ring, the line was transferred to Marcus Hines’s voicemail.

William hung up without leaving a message.

But his mind raced over the previous night’s events, and he couldn’t stop obsessing over what the hell had happened and who was murdered. Slowly the rest of the reporter’s words sank in: “...
authorities are trying to piece together whether the two incidents are connected.”

“If I’m caught, they’re going to think I’m a murderer.”

Chapter 8

To help combat Josie’s withdrawal symptoms, William decided to administer methadone injections twice a day. The drug was a narcotic pain reliever, similar to morphine. It was commonly used for drug addiction detoxification and maintenance programs.

For most of Saturday, William helped his patient through fits of delirium, heavy sweating, vomiting, and manic outburst. He found all of these to be good signs.

The day flew by, and, as night descended, William was exhausted. When Josie fell into a deep slumber, he could no longer ignore his own needs. First thing being first, he sated his hunger with a large bowl of pasta and a bottle of Heineken.

Outside, he heard the rain return and pound the windows and roof as though it had a vicious vendetta against the house.

William moved into the living room and settled into an armchair juxtaposed to a plaid soda and in front of the television. He should check the news again, he rationalized, he had no idea what he would do if the news broadcast his picture as the latest member on the most wanted list.

He punched the power button on the remote control, and the screen came alive with snowy static. William grunted and scanned the other channels. They all showed the same thing.

Great. The cable was out. He stood up from the chair and crossed over to the television. He checked the cable box and the other cords and connections. Everything appeared to be fine.

He lit the fireplace in the living room and master bedroom. From the upstairs linen closet, he gathered extra blankets and comforters. When he put everything in place, there was a mighty thunderclap overhead, and the lights went out.

He returned to Josie’s bedside and changed her IV bag, mopped the sweat from her fevered brow, then settled back into the chair across from the bed and watched her.

His thoughts wrestled with how she came to be admitted to a psychiatric ward under a false name. Could it truly be a case of mistaken identity? How likely was it that the hospital had gotten her mixed up with another patient?

Slim to none.

However, sixteen years was a long time. He’s lived another life since then and was sure that she had, too.

His gaze fell away from the bed and slid to the medical chart on the vanity table next to him. He picked up the chart and flipped through it once again. All the while, the square box refused to cram into the small triangle.

William set the chart aside. With everything he had attended to that day, he didn’t have much time to call Marcus Hines again. The cable was still out, and there was no way fro him to know who was murdered. Had the murder happened while he was on the premises? Did he leave any clues to
his
criminal actions?

Scientist say there was always clues, but he prayed that, in his case, it wasn’t true.

What if the woman was really Michelle Andrews?

He cleared his head of this train of thought. He had been over it numerous times before he concocted his plan to steal her away. He wasn’t mad, and he hadn’t taken the wrong woman.

An ear-piercing scream followed by a loud crash propelled William to his feet.

From the bed, Josie flailed about like a mad woman. Her jumbled words were incomprehensible, but it was clear that she no longer wanted the IV in her arm.

“No, no, Josie.” He rushed over to her and struggled to restrain her. At her surge of superhuman strength, William climbed onto the bed and pinned her hands down.

In response, Josie bucked, thrashed, and, as a last desperate attempt, sank her teeth into his arm.

He clenched his jaw shut. No matter what, he refused to release his hold on her, and after what seemed like an eternity, she gave up and drew away from his arm.

Seconds later, the fight left her body, and she fell limp beneath him.

Panting heavily, William held firm, suspicious of her abrupt surrender. Finally, as his adrenaline waned and Josie’s breathing became slow and even, he sighed with relief and released his grip. Immediately, Josie came up with a left hook that literally stunned him but didn’t knock him off of her.

It was a long time before William relaxed. When he did, he was fairly confident that she was sound asleep. At least he prayed she was. He couldn’t take another blow to the head.

He climbed off her and exhaled in a long, tired breath. He definitely had his work cut out for him, and he expected more outbursts before daybreak.

After he checked Josie’s IV tube, he righted the stand and spotted an old porcelain basin across the room. He stood up from the bed and walked over to retrieve it.

Minutes later, he’d filled the basin with iced water and gathered a few towels. He settled back beside the bed and dipped a towel into the water, wrung it out, and pressed it against her face.

She sighed softly in her sleep as if it was the very thing she needed.

The first seventy-two hours of detox were usually the hardest. He would do all he could to help her through it, even if it included being her punching bag.

When he finished cooling her off, he put everything away and retuned to the armchair. The rain continued outside. Instead of drifting off to sleep, he heard a light plopping sound.

He eased out of the chair again and quickly found the spot in the room where there was a small leak in the ceiling.

He rushed back downstairs and found a bucket to set under the drip. After a quick look through the house, he found two other places where he had to set pots.

Once he was through, he returned to the room and settled back into the armchair. But before he was able to close his eyes, Josie started up again.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 9

First thing Sunday morning, the rain finally stopped, and William found himself on the roof of the house. As a man who loved working with his hands, he found repairing the roof almost therapeutic.

Once he was through, he checked on his patient before heading back out to chop firewood. With him returning to work the next day, he now worried about the atmosphere at Keystone. The electricity and cable were still out, so he had no idea what was being reported on the news. At one point, his curiosity led him to sit on the car for news snippet, but he heard nothing. Because of that, he shied away from calling other colleagues to puck their brains on what was going on.

He also had the added worry of leaving Josie with Ecaterina. If her condition didn’t improve, there was no way he could leave her with a sixty-eight-year old woman.

The heavy exertion turned out to be just the stress reliever he needed. By the time he finished wielding a heavy ax and carrying the logs inside, he was ready for a hot shower and a nap.

The nap never came.

Instead he made mashed potatoes over a gas stove. The food would be soft enough for Josie to eat and easy on her stomach. From the cabinet, he retrieved a packet of instant apple cider and prepared that as well.

Josie remained curled in her favorite position with all the covers tucked beneath her.

He couldn’t help but smile as he moved over to the bed. He set down the tray and pressed a hand the bed. He set down the tray and pressed a hand against Josie’s forehead to check for a fever. It was against Josie’s forehead to check for a fever. It was still slightly elevated, but nothing life threatening.

He apportioned a small amount of potatoes onto a spoon, but couldn’t get Josie to eat. After about a half hour of coaxing, he gave up and put the food aside.

Two hours later, he tried again and still had no success.

As the day sped along, William struggled not to be alarmed by Josie’s behavior. It had been forty-two hours since he’d taken her from the institute, and by his calculations, she should be responding to the methadone and coming out of her fog.

With a frustrated sigh, he took the dishes back downstairs. He prepared himself another bowl of pasta and grabbed a warm beer from the fridge. He hoped the electricity would be back on before Ecatherina showed up Monday.

“Tomorrow,” he moaned. He would have to act as if nothing had happened. He frowned as he remembered Saturday’s news report. He really should try to call Hines again, but should he be worried? When he returned to work, would it be a trap?

He drew in a tired breath. He wasn’t at all comfortable with lying, but, at this point, what choice did he have?

He grabbed a second beer and after achieving a good buzz was able to set his fears aside.

The day passed with no violent outburst from Josie. It was close to midnight before he was able to get her to eat anything, and she was still unaware of her surroundings.

He tucked her hack into bed before he settled in for another night in the armchair. But he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop wondering what was going to happen when Josie finally woke up; when she was finally able to recognize him.

He imagined that she wouldn’t be too happy.

Lowering his gaze, he contemplated grabbing another beer. He needed something to numb his growing anxiety; not that it was entirely aimed at Josie, but more toward himself for letting her go in the first place.

As the night ticked on, William was content to listen to Josie’s steady breathing. Hours later, exhaustion finally claimed him. However, he didn’t sleep long before the sun’s early rays sliced through the blinds and warmed his face.

It was time to face the day. Time to return to the scene of the crime. He glanced at his Timex and saw he had less than an hour before Ecaterina arrived.

Standing, he stretched and popped his aching bones. A painful cramp lingered in his neck, but it was undoubtedly a direct result of his sleeping arrangement.

“Okay. Pull yourself together,” he said. After giving himself a moment to think everything over, he realizing that he didn’t have a choice but to follow his original plan. He couldn’t call in sick, and he was pretty sure Josie’s violent episodes were over. Heck, at this rate, there was a good chance that she would still be knocked out when he returned.

Exhaling, he reached into the drawer for a new hypodermic needle, gave Josie her morning injection, and changed her IV bag.

Afterward, he rushed to get himself ready for work. While he dressed he wondered if he should change his story with Ecaterina. How much should her tell her? If she’d seen the news reports about Keystone, would she put two and two together?

A new wave of anxiety gripped him. He had expected Josie to be conscious by now, and he would have convinced her to play along with having a simple flu bug. Now, the only thing he could do was pray…pray that Josie slept until he returned from work.