Rancor: Sinister Attachments, Book 1 (8 page)

She looked up at the third-floor windows, hoping to see Mr. Zimmerman moving around inside so that she could go up and ask about getting another lock for her apartment, but the windows were dark. Then she looked at her windows, hoping no one was inside her apartment. There was no movement. Good.

She smiled as her mind wandered back to the fun—if that was what a person would call it—her and Jess had last night. No, not fun, she thought. Tolerance or maybe a numbing of memories. Then she thought about the desk calendar and the initials JP. Maybe she should call Jim and ask about his meetings with Cory, but then, maybe not. Whoever JP was always seemed to show up when Maggie was not around.

Then the words of Ethel and Claudia flashed in her mind and the words warning about Jess. Jess Pinter. Maggie shook her head; no way did JP refer to Jess. What reason would Jess have for going to see Cory? Either they were planning a surprise party for her or . . . Or Jess was sleeping with Cory.

FOURTEEN

Maggie had just finished getting ready for bed when there was a knock on her door. She walked to the door and looked out the peephole; it was Debbie and Susie. Oh my god, she wants me to babysit, Maggie thought as she pinched her eyes tight in disbelief. For a moment, she thought about not answering the door, but Debbie probably heard her walk up to it and knows she is looking out the peephole at them that very moment.

She opened the door, with a yawn and a tired look. “Hi, Debbie.” 

Debbie was dressed in a white nursing dress and was looking a little down. “I’m sorry to bother you, Maggie. It looks like you’re ready for bed, but I have to be to work in half an hour, and there is no one to watch Susie. Do you mind watching her tonight? I’ve been trying to find another babysitter, but I’m not having any luck.”

Maggie was stuck; how could she say no. She looked at Susie in her nightgown and the ragged teddy bear. It was not so bad last time she babysat; maybe it will be the same tonight. All she had to do was ignore what Bruce told her yesterday about Susie needing to be institutionalized. If Susie could become violent, wouldn’t she be better with a man like Bruce watching her? She let out a slow breath. “Sure.”

“Thank you so much, Maggie. I owe you one.” Debbie bent over, kissed Susie, and was off down the stairs before Maggie knew what had happened.

“Come inside, Susie.” Maggie opened the door, and Susie walked in.

Maggie thought about pushing the couch up against the door so that no one would be able to enter during the night—since she still did not have the lock fixed—but what if she needed to escape the apartment fast. With Susie’s supposed history, a person never knows when they may need to run for their life. But then, who said Bruce was right? Maybe he did not know what he was talking about. She locked the door with the skeleton key and pushed the couch in front of it.

When she had finished, she turned around and saw the bathroom door closed. Susie must be inside, Maggie thought, so she walked into the guest room and turned down the blankets. When she had finished, Susie came out of the bathroom and walked into the bedroom.

“Are you ready for bed?”

Susie held her teddy and crawled into bed. Maggie could not help but feel sorry for the child. There were no other kids to play with in the apartment building, but then, giving Debbie the benefit of the doubt, maybe she goes to a playgroup with other kids during the week. Maggie covered Susie and tucked her in. “Good night, Susie.”

Susie did not say anything.

Maggie left Susie’s door open a crack and walked into her bedroom. Now she had to decide whether to leave her door open as she did last time, close it or close and lock it. She wanted to lock it, but what if Susie needed something. Dependable Maggie opted to close the door and leave it unlocked.

She placed her cell phone on the nightstand beside the bed; it would be easy to get to if she needed to call 911. When she got into bed, she turned facing the door. Having her back to the door was the same as having an arm or leg hang off the bed where a monster might grab it and pull her underneath. In this case, a small child with a knife would come in and hack her to death.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maggie,” she whispered to herself as she closed her eyes.

FIFTEEN

“Margaret, are you sleeping?”

Maggie opened her eyes. She was staring at the paperwork in a notebook. She looked closer, it was a patient’s chart. “What?” 

“You need to get off the night shift, you’re just not cut out for it,” a bubbly voice said.

Maggie looked up and saw Debbie, or someone who looked like Debbie, standing next to her in a hospital nurses’ station. A rolling rack of blue charts with patient’s names was before her, a desk with papers, a phone, and an intercom system was on top of the desk. She noticed a watch with a white band on her wrist. When she looked down, she saw she had a nursing dress on, complete with white nylons and white nursing shoes. When she looked at Debbie, she looked a little younger but just as spunky. “Debbie, what’s going on?”

“Debbie?” She sat down at the desk in the chair beside Maggie. “Are you blitzed? Since when do you call me Debbie?”

Maggie was confused. Was she dreaming? A dream with Debbie in it? It is a nightmare about this place and the crazy psych nurses that Ethel was telling her about. But it seemed so real, like she was really a nurse in a hospital. Because of the reality of the moment, Maggie decided to play along. She looked at Debbie’s name badge; it said, Deborah F., Registered Nurse. “Deborah, I’m sorry.”

A ringing sound blared from the hallway. “I’ll get that call light, you finish charting.” Deborah stood and was off down the hallway in seconds.

“Hi, Margaret.” A male voice said from behind her.

Maggie turned and saw Bruce. But was it really Bruce? He stood there in a white lab coat with the name Bruce Hancock, M.D. monogrammed on the left chest, and he was looking rather handsome. His dark hair was slicked back and he was smiling at her, just as he was smiling at her in his apartment the other day.

“Cat got your tongue?” He sat down in the chair Deborah had just left. He reached over and took Maggie’s hand into his. “Do you want to do it now? I have time.”

Was he talking about what Maggie thought he was talking about? His hand felt warm and soothing.

Bruce moved in closer until they touched knees. With one leg between hers, he leaned in and whispered. “Come on, baby. I’ve been waiting for this. The room is empty.”

Margaret was startled away from the thrill of the moment when a clipboard smacked against the counter. Debbie was on the other side. “What’s going on, here?”

Bruce stood and leaned toward Deborah. He whispered softly. “The room’s ready, babe. Are you ready?”

Deborah’s mood mellowed as she moved her face close to his. “I have a couple things to do first, and then I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

“Make it quick.” Bruce walked out of the nurses’ station and toward the exit stairway.

“Not too quick,” Deborah said, licking her upper lip. Then she turned and went back down the hall.

Maggie stood up and ran her hands down the front of the prim uniform. It felt real enough. She walked out of the nurses’ station and into the hallway. It looked almost like the second floor of Sandpiper Bluff. Then she gasped when she saw a plaque on the wall that read LAKE SHORE SANATORIUM AND PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL.

Deborah came up beside Maggie. “I’ll be off the floor for a while so I’ll need you to watch my patients. Here’s the charge nurse’s ward passkey.”

Maggie lost her breath when Deborah handed her a skeleton key. It looked just like her apartment key.

“I know you haven’t worked here long, but I need you to be the charge nurse for a little while. That key opens all the doors on this floor, but you probably won’t need to use it.”

Maggie tried to hand the key back, but Debbie would not take it. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can, Margaret.” Debbie sounded angry. “You can and you will.” She poked her index finger into Maggie's chest. “And stay away from Bruce, he’s mine. Got it?”

Maggie got it, but she did not know exactly what she had.

SIXTEEN

Maggie opened her eyes. Her bedroom door was open. Had she gotten up during the night to use the bathroom and forgotten to close it? She could not remember. After adjusting her pillow she looked at the nightstand clock, it was seven-thirty. Oh, great, I cannot believe I slept this late, she thought. Debbie will be here soon to pick up Susie.

Then she rolled on her back to give herself a few more minutes of snooze time before she got up. That is when her elbow touched something. She froze. Something was in bed with her. Too terrified to turn her head toward it, she could tell there was a figure under the blanket next to her, a human figure. Susie, it had to be Susie. 

Maggie did not breathe for a moment, not wanting to awaken whatever it was beside her. It was not moving. It was lying there like a dead body. It had to be Susie sleeping; she probably came into her room during the night because she was afraid. But it was so still and so quiet. She could feel coldness radiate from it and hear no breathing.

As Maggie saw it, in the slow-motion seconds of the moment, she had two choices, either turn her head to see who it was or jump out of bed. If she jumped out of bed, she would awaken it, but then she would no longer be next to it. If she turned her head to look at its face, she would know who it was; Susie, of course.

She convinced herself it was Susie, who else could it be? And she would know that it was a child and not an 
it
 or a 
thing
. So with her eyes taking the lead, she turned her head slowly, very slowly to see it. First, she saw Susie’s snarled hair lying over the shoulders, then she saw the face. It was Susie’s face, and she was staring at Maggie with black, cloudy eyes that did not blink or even seem to focus. Was Susie sleeping with her eyes open?

Maggie jumped out of bed without thinking as adrenaline surged through her body like an accelerator pump spraying gasoline. Then, performing her nursing duty, she reached over and shook Susie’s shoulder to see if she was alive. God forbid if she had to give mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Maggie felt for a pulse on the side of Susie’s icy neck. She was not feeling the heart pumping blood through the artery.

Then suddenly Susie pulled her teddy bear up to her chest and sat up. Maggie was so startled she thought she would collapse from shock and Susie would be reviving her.

“Susie, are you okay?” Maggie said, relieved Susie was alive but baffled as to why she was.

Susie shrugged.

Bang, bang, bang sounded from the apartment door. Maggie was startled as her heart fluttered in her chest. Why was Debbie knocking like someone pissed off?

“Stay right there, Susie. That must be your mom.” Maggie went to the door, pushed the couch to the side, and looked out the peephole. It was Debbie, so she unlocked and opened the door. “Debbie, I think Susie needs to go to the hospital.”

Debbie was not her usual bubbly self, but rather a tired shift worker. “What’s going on?”

“Follow me.” Maggie turned to walk toward the bedroom, almost running into Susie, who was standing directly behind her. “Oh, are you feeling better?”

Susie nodded.

“She’s fine,” Debbie said, holding out her hand for Susie to take. “Like I said before, she sometimes has spells.”

“I don’t know, I think this was more than a spell.” Maggie watched as Susie took Debbie’s hand, and they walked into the hall. “I’d feel better if she got checked out by a doctor.”

Debbie did not answer as she walked to her apartment.

Maggie closed the door. What could she do? Report Debbie for possible child neglect? But Susie was up walking and shook her head to the affirmative when asked if she was okay. Maggie did not want to cause trouble and besides, Susie was fine when she walked out the door and Debbie knows about her so-called spells.

Enough thinking about it, she thought. Might as well get a shower and do laundry. After she showered and dressed, she took the sheets off the beds and put them into a garbage bag since she still did not have a laundry basket. She was about to walk out the door when the cell phone on her nightstand rang.

It was Nora Bella. “How’s that manuscript coming along?”

“It’s coming along, don’t worry.” However, Maggie was worried because she was behind schedule.

“Can you send it to me by the end of the week?”

Maggie hesitated answering. “Sure.”

“You sound tired, are you okay?” Nora’s speech slowed; she sounded as though she was actually concerned about Maggie more than the book.

Maggie shrugged for no one to see. “It has been a little hard adjusting to everything that’s happened.”

“If things are too difficult I may be able to convince the publisher to postpone things a bit, but for now, let’s stay on schedule, okay?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

“Awesome, I expect to see the draft in my inbox by Friday afternoon. Chop, chop.”

When Nora hung-up the phone, Maggie decided that she was self-publishing when the contract ended. No more pressure from a bossy agent and no more having her profits gobbled up by greedy publishers. She picked up the laundry and detergent to continue where she had left off.

This morning she decided she would take the elevator, once again, to the basement laundry room. She pushed the button and waited, listening to the motor grind as if the wire cables were being stressed to their breaking point. Maggie was about to walk away when the elevator door opened. Why not?

She walked inside and chose the basement for her destination. The dingy cab shuddered and then descended. It clanked to a stop, and the door slid open. She stepped into the dampness and began walking toward the laundry room. When she walked past the storage room, she noticed the last room on the right, which was previously locked, was slightly ajar.