One September Morning (36 page)

Washington
Abby

T
he “Secret Cupid” gift exchange is a tradition among the staff in the psych ward at Lakeside Hospital. Each year at the start of the second week in February, interested staff members put their names into a hat and select the name of a person they’ll play Cupid to. Cupids are instructed to secretly deliver five small gifts to their person: pens, a Starbucks gift card, pantyhose, candy—anything under five dollars.

When Abby picks Rhonda Hobart, she’s pleased to purchase small gifts for the tough but nurturing training supervisor. A personalized mug. A box of pens. Her favorite hazelnut-flavored coffee creamer. Abby looks forward to delivering Rhonda’s gifts, one a day, until the brief staff meeting on February fourteenth when the Secret Cupids’ identities will be revealed.

But the first day, Abby’s satisfaction at seeing Rhonda squeal over her cute little Beanie Baby is diminished when she finds her own gift next to her locker in the staff room—a potted miniature rose bush with a note saying:
I WILL NEVER STOP LOVING YOU
.

Repulsive fear tingles down her spine as she sets the roses back on the ground. Her Cupid will not win any points for being PC.

Is it someone with a crush—or a moronic practical joke? She decides to wait for the second gift. Maybe she is overreacting. Maybe it’s just someone’s attempt at making her feel loved.

That first night she puts it out of her mind and focuses on her treatment plan for Emjay, who is progressing well, in her novice opinion. He’s beginning to understand that there might be some value in talk therapy and has even started opening up a bit in group sessions.

The second day she tries to check in at her locker during the day, hoping to spy her Secret Cupid and confront him or her. Not only does she not catch Cupid, she does not receive a gift that day. Hmm. Maybe Cupid knows he/she blew it on the last note and is trying to rethink the plan.

Day three goes by without any sign of a gift. At the end of the day Abby closes her locker with a huge sigh of relief. She doesn’t need a gift, though she did enjoy watching Rhonda enjoy a cup of coffee in her new “Rhonda” mug.

When Abby arrives home, there’s a bouquet of black lilies on her front porch with a note that says: IF I CAN’T HAVE YOU, NO ONE ELSE CAN.

Oh, it’s a sicko. It must be Jump.

Dread weighs her down as she brings the flowers in and puts them in water, unable to find any beauty in the swirling cone shapes of the dark calla lilies. Black flowers…rare and exotic, but not the most cheerful variety.

This has Jump written all over it.

How unlucky could she be to have Jump as her Secret Cupid? Or maybe he found out who picked her and forced a trade. Whatever the scenario, she will not falter. She won’t let his sick attachment affect her job performance, end of story.

But that night, she finds she cannot sleep with the lilies in the house and tosses them onto the patio after dark, reminding herself to pick them up and put them in the compost bin in the morning.

When the fourth day also goes by without a gift, Abby begins to imagine what frightening symbol might be awaiting her at home. To offset her dread, she calls Suz, who agrees to meet at Abby’s house, then go out to dinner from there.

But as Abby heads toward her car in the parking lot, she realizes that Cupid has struck unexpectedly once again. On the hood of her car sits a gift wrapped in pink paper with red foil hearts—so cheerful and sweet. She nudges it with her keys, feeling a strong desire to slide it to the ground then kick it over to the garbage can where it would remain, abandoned, until the hospital custodian removed it along with the trash.

But compulsion makes her tear into it. She needs to know what she’s up against, what the enemy has tossed at her.

It’s a framed photo of John. In the picture his soulful brown eyes exude knowledge and warmth, and she wants to reach into the landscape of the photograph and bury her face against his shoulder, bask like a cat curled in the sunshine in the wise aura that swirled around him. However the frame, a weave of silver bars, possesses a darker karma. Like Gothic latticework, it feels like sticky ice in her fingers. She wants to drop it and run, but how can she abandon a photo of John? Tossing it into the trash and running is no longer an option.

She pulls off the envelope taped to the wrapping and opens the note. VALENTINE, I WOULD DIE FOR YOU.

The sound that escapes her throat seems alien, the cry of a wounded bird. The sheer ruthlessness, the perversity behind all this—the impact is like a physical punch right to her chest.

Her blood ices over in her veins at the realization that this must be Jump. Who else in the psych ward even knows that she is John’s widow? She still goes by her maiden name, Abby Fitzgerald, and she’s never mentioned John to anyone but Emjay, preferring to keep her professional life separate, to keep the daily pangs of grief personal.

But now…now that she is sure Charles Jump is terrorizing her, a window of truth opens upon the scene of John’s death. Truth bursts, bold and bright.

Charles Jump killed John.

It must have been him.

Although his motivation is not clear, she knows he had access, he had the means, and he has exhibited the sociopathic behavior that would make him capable of killing without guilt or conscience.

Frantic, she gathers up the wrapping, the framed photo, and the note into her arms, then runs along the crosswalk of the parking lot and straight through the automatic double doors. She does not stop when a scrap of wrapping paper falls to the ground beside her. Only when she is on the elevator heading up to the ward does she even try to catch her breath and slow her racing pulse. When the doors open she bolts out and spots Rhonda Hobart heading down the corridor with two interns.

“Rhonda! We need to talk,” she blurts out.

Annoyance fades from Rhonda’s face when she catches sight of Abby. “Step into my office,” she says, nodding toward the tiny kitchenette, a closet of a room containing a refrigerator, coffeemaker, and microwave. In a ward where many rooms do not have doors and privacy is nearly forbidden, it’s not easy to find a place for two people to have a personal conference.

Abby presses into the room and pushes back boxes of cocoa mix and sweetener so that she can drop her armful of debris onto the counter.

“Honey, you look like you just got goosed by a ghost. What’s all that?” Rhonda asks, nodding at the photo and torn gift wrap.

“A gift from my Secret Cupid.” Abby explains how she was upset by the first two gifts of flowers with inappropriate notes. “And now this…I found it on my car just now. The photo—” Abby pauses in an attempt to control the tremor that’s crept into her voice. “That’s a picture of my husband, John. He was killed in Iraq last September.”

Rhonda’s lips purse in a pout. “Oh, Abby…How cruel is that? I can imagine how that makes you feel.” She shakes her head, gazing down at the photograph. “A good-looking man he was. But do you think maybe someone thought you’d appreciate the photo?”

“Here’s the note.”

Rhonda winces as she reads the note. “‘Valentine, I would die for you.’ Now, that’s just sick.”

“I don’t know what to do. I have a feeling I know who’s giving me these things, but I can’t prove it.”

Rhonda nods encouragingly. “Tell me. Who do you think?”

“I…” She glances at the kitchenette’s open doorway behind Rhonda, then says in a near whisper: “I think it’s Dr. Jump.”

“Really?” Rhonda’s chocolate-brown eyes open wide. “I gotta say, that’s the last name I expected to hear. Dr. Jump is pretty popular among the staff here and, frankly, with his busy schedule, I don’t know where he’d find the time. What makes you think it was him?”

“We had a relationship. Well, I thought we were
friends
before I started my internship. It all ended badly, and I don’t think he can put it behind him. I know he doesn’t treat me fairly.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy? The other interns adore Dr. Jump. I just had two newbies beg me to let them trail him. Maybe it’s the attractive, single-man thing but…I don’t know quite what to say, Abby. People around here are fond of Charles Jump. I know the man has his moments, but even when he’s bad, he’s a hell of a lot more charming than some of the ogres I’ve worked for in the past.”

“You don’t know him,” Abby says, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was considering telling Rhonda about her history with Jump, but now she’ll have to take a different tack. “How long has he been a director here? Two months?”

“In this line of work, you get to know your coworkers pretty damned fast. But Abby, if you want to lodge a complaint against him, I’ll get HR here faster than you can whistle. The only drawback of that is, just so you know, you’ll have to go on record with your previous relationship with him.”

Fear and humiliation stab through Abby’s chest. “I’d be willing to do that if…if it would stop him from…”

“Abby…” Rhonda’s hand between her shoulder blades is soothing, but it’s also the note of compassion that brings Abby to tears. “I can’t promise you anything, but someone is out of line here. The notes on those gifts are definitely inappropriate, and that last gift is downright cruel.”

Tears sting Abby’s eyes. “But we have no proof that Dr. Jump gave them to me.”

“No, child, we don’t.”

Abby’s face drops into her palms as tears run down her cheeks. What can she do?

“When you’re ready to make the complaint, I’ll be here for you,” Rhonda says.

Abby nods as, down the corridor, the security door buzzes. Its irony is not lost on her.

We work so hard to keep the unstable people under lock and key, and the most menacing lunatic of all has all the freedom in the world. All the freedom and power to terrify.

“Valentine’s Day is such a bitch,” Suz says as she steps closer to the netting of the playland, keeping an eye on Sofia, who is collecting balls and tossing them back into the pit. “When you’re single, you’re a loser because you don’t have a sweetheart. When you’re a widow, your heart is cracked in two. Scott always said it was a holiday created by Hallmark to increase card sales, and now I’m starting to buy into his cynicism.”

Abby nods glumly.

“Would you talk about it already?”

And so she tells her. Beginning with the way Jump started edging into her home and finishing with the Secret Cupid gift she received today, Abby tells Suz how Charles Jump has preyed on her, physically abused her, terrorized her. When she finishes, Suz is clutching Abby’s hand, her eyes glittering with tears.

“That bastard! He probably killed your husband and…and nearly raped you. The monster!”

“Nearly being the operative word.”

“The man tried to hump you like a dog,” Suz growls between her teeth. “And don’t you feel a wink of guilt, because he’s an animal. Someone has got to stop him. Have you reported him?”

“I spoke with my supervisor about him, but she sort of warned me not to make any waves. He’s a popular guy at work, and his position certainly trumps mine. With his power, his charisma, people are going to take his word over mine.”

“I don’t care if he founded the damned hospital and cured the blind. A psycho is a psycho. Where I come from, your father would be hunting him down with a shotgun and running his ass out of town.”

Abby lets out a laugh. “My father doesn’t own a gun. And do you really think violence is the answer?”

“With an animal like that? Absolutely!” Suz bends down to roll two balls over to her daughter. “There you go, pumpkin.”

Abby scrapes back her hair, taking a breath. “I need to stay objective. I mean, I need to separate what I know and what I suspect.”

“The police can figure this out. You need to report him, Abby.”

“And what would they investigate? A few menacing notes left by an anonymous Cupid? Real-life police departments don’t operate the way detectives do on television. No one is going to try and lift fingerprints from a couple of sick love notes. In real life, the police act after a clear-cut crime has been committed.”

“Well, I don’t want to wait until this psycho goes over the line. I’m very worried about you, Abby. You’ve got to get yourself out of that internship and away from him.”

“But I can’t leave the program now. Besides, I promised John I would finish.”

“Yeah, well, I promised myself I’d never take my daughter to one of these indoor playgrounds.” Suz squats down to shag some balls before they roll out of the play area. “And here I am.”

“I’m being practical. I can’t transfer at this point without losing major credits. Besides, I think I’m really helping my clients. Especially Emjay.” It’s not ethical to discuss the details of his therapy, but Abby worries over what would happen if she left and Dr. Jump reinstated the mind-numbing dosage of tranquilizers he’s been on.

“So if you’re not going to back off, we’ve got to find a way to take that sucker down.” Suz tosses a squishy ball into the air and catches it with a snap of the wrist. “A monster like this doesn’t just rear his ugly head out of nowhere. He’s got to have a history. Let’s get Flint on him, find out his background.”