The Missing Year (5 page)

Ross peeled off his sunglasses as he entered Southeast Memorial’s parking garage and handed his ID badge to the gate guard.

“You’re all set,” the older man said after comparing the picture to Ross’s face twice.

Ross pulled into one of several parking spots marked “Reserved” and checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked like hell. Red rings rimmed his tired eyes and his complexion looked pale. He’d say he was sick if asked, but he wasn’t. Between pining for Sarah and what had happened with Mattie, he was an emotional wreck.

Walking through the hospital’s main entrance, he couldn’t help feeling that all eyes were on him. Ross lowered his head and broke for the nearest elevator. He rode the car to the third floor Psychiatry Department and exited, immediately overcome by dread.

Dr. Daniel Long stood outside the unit’s secured entrance wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and a navy blue suit Ross knew was reserved for meeting days. His silver hair gave away his age of sixty-three years, his aging doing little to diminish his presence.

“We need to talk,” he said in an authoritative tone that intimidated Ross from ten feet away.

There was no question in Ross’s mind that Dan knew what he had done with Arlene Pope’s meds.

Dan swiped his keycard and opened the unit door to the long hallway of offices preceding the unit where the patients were kept behind a second electronically locked entrance.

“Can I set my things in my office first?”

Dan shook his head. “It’s probably better you bring them with you.”

“If this is about Arlene—”

“Ross, please. I don’t want to have this conversation out here.” Dan unlocked and opened his office door, gesturing for Ross to go inside. “Have a seat.” He closed the door behind them.

Ross’s eyes went immediately to the completed disciplinary notice on Dan’s desk.

“I had an interesting visit this morning.” Dan said, his steely blue eyes lending a severity to his stare.

“From who? Kallie?” After their last conversation, Ross suspected she would unburden her soul sooner than later.

Dan didn’t confirm or deny that she had. He loosened his tie and ran his hands through the white hair at his temples. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Ross leaned forward in his chair, debating coming clean. It was like being pulled over for speeding. There was no right answer to the question, “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“No, not really.”

“Nothing?” Dan said. “About Arlene Pope and a medication switch?”

“Arlene Pope was faking,” Ross said.

“Arlene is a scared seventeen-year-old girl.”

“
And
a murderer.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to refuse her medication, Ross.”

“It does if she didn’t need it. Arlene Pope isn’t schizophrenic. There were no voices. Look at her M-FAST, at her chart—”

“I have, and it doesn’t change anything. You’ve put me in a terrible position. Me
and
the hospital.”

“By finding out the truth?”

“By upsetting a patient to the point that she attempted suicide.”

“What?”

“That’s why Kallie came to talk to me. Arlene’s in the ICU after drinking from a bottle of bleach. Kallie confessed out of fear.”

“And you forgave her in exchange for turning me in?”

“I’m not going to discuss her disciplinary actions with you. This is about what
you
did.”

“Dan, I met with Arlene’s mother yesterday. Arlene confessed. She’s guilty.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change this.”

“Where did she even
get
bleach?”

“An unlocked cleaning cart on the unit.”

“Then you should be talking to housekeeping. Incriminating Arlene was the right
thing to do under the worst circumstances. Besides, the worst bleach would do is to cause gastritis and maybe make her throw up.”

“Unless you mix it with ammonia. I’m dealing with housekeeping, Ross, but you’ve become a real liability. This isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”

“And this isn’t the first time you’ve put me on a case knowing how I might have to go outside the norm to solve it.”

“Be that as it may, I can’t let this one slide.”

“Are you firing me?”

Dan shook his head. “Administrative leave with pay. Human Resources will explain the details.”

“For how long?”

“Six weeks.”

“And when I come back?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Six weeks suspension.

To Ross, it felt like a death sentence. Work had kept his mind busy since a week after Sarah’s burial.

Dan had said Ross hadn’t given himself enough time to grieve.

Ross had wanted to return to the hospital sooner.

Heading into the house full of Sarah’s things, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to be there full-time. He paced the living room, Sarah’s jacket reminding him of the argument he had with Mattie, who was the one person he would normally call on for advice at a time like this. He picked up his cell, scrolled to her number, and stopped, realizing how unfair it was to draw her back in as a crutch.

He needed an escape, time to think, and New York suddenly seemed like the best place to do that. He dialed Guy’s extension at Lakeside.

“Good afternoon, this is Dr. Guy Oliver speaking.”

“Guy, it’s Ross.”

“Ross, how are you?”

“I’m good,” he lied.

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be calling, but I’ve had some time to consider your offer. I’ve been thinking about that case—”

“Lila Wheeler.”

“Yes, Lila, and I was wondering if you still needed me to consult.”

“Well, of course. Even if I had found an alternate psychiatrist, I’d cancel them for you.”

“I’m flattered.” Ross waited for the inevitable.

“What changed your mind?”

It came sooner than he expected.

Ross had worked out a dozen cover stories in his head, but all of them felt contrived. He was a terrible liar.

“Given the circumstances of Lila’s case, I think you’re right.” He settled on the non-specific answer. “I might be able to help.”

“And Dan? He’s okay with you taking the time off?”

“Yep.”

“Even if it’s the full six weeks?”

“Don’t worry about the time, Doc. I’ll manage.” Ross had worried that Guy and Dan had spoken, but that seemed not to be the case. “When do you need me to start?”

“I’d say today if it wasn’t too soon. Let me talk to my assistant and we’ll see what we can do about arranging transportation. It’s nearly a two hour drive from Albany International Airport, but I can book a commuter flight if you’re willing.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Brilliant. Ross, whatever the reason, I’m glad you changed your mind. You’re really saving me here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Doc. I’m happy to help. When do you think you might be able to get flights scheduled for?”

“Is first thing in the morning too soon?”

Ross looked around him, at the reminders already breaking him down. “First thing in the morning is perfect.”

“I’ll have my assistant Judy email you the itinerary.”

“Thanks again, Doc.”

Ross hung up the phone and headed to his bedroom to pack.

Pulling into the parking lot of Lakeside Psychiatric and Crisis Stabilization Center, Ross realized there were no easy choices. He’d second-guessed his decision to leave Chicago all the way to New York and nearly turned around twice on the interstate.

Two flights, including one on an air taxi that had bounced through the sky like a cork in the ocean, deterred him from going back.

Ross shifted the rental car—a Toyota Camry with stained upholstery and a phantom smoke smell—into park and stared through the windshield at the landscape of changing leaves. He had forgotten how beautiful his hometown was this time of year.

Red, yellow, and orange trees cut a path through the acres behind the brick structure that was the only sizeable building for miles. As far as hurried getaways went, things could definitely have been worse.

Ross pressed the button on the key fob to open the trunk and stepped out into the unseasonably cool morning. The wind blew his dark hair in front of his eyes, forcing him to squint. Goosebumps appeared on his bare arms, his short sleeve polo shirt offering little protection. He rummaged through his single suitcase for his windbreaker.

“Travelling a little light, aren’t you?”

Ross turned to see Dr. Guy Oliver standing with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a heavy knit cardigan sweater. Under other circumstances, Ross wasn’t sure he’d have immediately recognized him as the man he had last seen five years ago. Guy’s hair had turned completely silver, thinning to the point that there was little more than peach fuzz on top. He had gained weight over the years, but his smile was unmistakable.

“Good to see you, Doc.” Ross reached out to shake Guy’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Guy pulled him into an awkward hug, patting him on the back.

“Are you shrinking?” Ross said.

“Probably.” Guy wrinkled his nose. “Did you take up smoking?”

“It’s the rental. Smoke-free, my ass.”

“How was your flight?” Guy said.

“Depends on which you’re talking about.”

The regional airport Ross had flown into from Albany International had two operational runways and a single wood building that functioned as the airport proper. Commercial flights didn’t even go there, which is why Guy’s assistant had arranged a private charter on the flying cork.

“That second one’s a doozy. I’ve taken it myself,” Guy said.

“Thanks for the warning.”

“It took an act of God to get you here. You think I’d risk scaring you off? Let me show you around.”

Ross closed the trunk lid, put on his jacket, and followed Guy around to the front of the grand brick building that looked nothing like the hospital he was used to working at. White columns supported a shallow entranceway. Double doors led to a reception area manned by an attractive blond with a phone to her ear. She regarded Ross with a smile and pointed across the room.

A young, tattooed man wearing green scrubs stood by the elevator. His black hair—long on the top, shaved on the sides, and gelled back in place—reminded Ross of a lead in an urban gangster movie.

“Ah, perfect. I was hoping he’d be free,” Guy said. “I want you to meet someone.” Guy crossed the room with Ross behind him. “Ross, meet Mark Santos. Mark, this is Dr. Ross Reeves. Mark is studying to be a psychologist.”

Mark reached out and delivered a firm handshake.

Ross flexed his fingers afterward.

“Mark’s been working with Lila since she arrived here,” Guy said. “Mark, why don’t you grab the unit files and meet me in Ross’s office, the one we’ve been using as a waiting area?”

“Will do.”

“Your office is this way.” Guy waved for Ross to follow him and opened the door at the end of the first floor hallway. He flipped on the light switch, illuminating a good sized space that, while devoid of personal effects, was nicely appointed and twice the size of Ross’s office in Chicago.

“Wow.”

“You like it?” Guy smiled.

“It’s impressive.”

Ross sat in the leather chair behind the desk and spun to face the wall of windows behind him. He had a view of the center’s greenhouse, the garden, and the winding path leading through the vibrantly colored trees. “I could get used to this.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Judy has ordered some office supplies to get you started. Her office is the first past the reception desk if there’s anything else you need.” Guy handed Ross a set of keys and a keycard. “The card is programmed to open all the secure doors. Everything’s electronic, other than your office and cabinets. Those keys are labeled. I have a laptop en route that should arrive sometime after lunch.”

“Dr. Oliver?” Mark interrupted, holding a stack of manila folders under his arm. “You wanted all five charts, right? Not just Lila’s?”

“Yes, thank you.” Guy took the folders from Mark and mumbled something under his breath that Ross couldn’t quite make out.

The two of them held a brief, hushed conversation.

Mark exchanged glances with Ross several times throughout.

“Do you need anything else?” he said.

“Not right now, thank you.” Guy turned to Ross. “How about you and I grab some lunch?”

Ross sat across from Guy in an uncomfortable stainless steel chair at The Downtowner, a diner modeled after the Sterling Streamliners of the late 1930s. A jukebox played Dion and the Belmont’s “A Teenager in Love” as a steady stream of regulars filed in.

Most of the waitresses were old enough to have remembered the song becoming a hit.

The files sat neatly stacked to the right of Guy’s plate.

An awkward tension filled the space between them.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ross said, after a long silence.

Guy waved to a woman his age, sitting alone in the corner. “The pot roast is out of this world,” he said, ignoring the question. “You had better figure out your order. They’re pretty quick around here.”

Ross looked over the menu featuring elderly favorites like liverwurst and rice pudding. The laminated pages stuck together with a sticky, brown substance that could have been maple syrup. At least, that’s what Ross told himself. He had dropped the average age a few years by walking in the place.

A sixty-something woman wearing a vintage blue and white waitress uniform approached their table. “Do we need a few more minutes or have we decided?”

Ross stared at the woman’s gnarled hands, her knuckles wider than her fingers and her skin so thin her veins showed through it. Of all the places Guy could have picked for lunch, Ross couldn’t think of a worse option. “I’ll take a B.L.T. on white toast, please.”

The woman struggled to manage the pen. “And to drink?”

“I’ll have an iced tea.”

The waitress flipped the page, filling up the sheet of paper with one order in large print. “What about you, Doc? The usual?”

Guy smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Pot roast and mashed coming right up. Corn okay?” She smiled, her teeth the color of strong tea.

“Do you have those little carrots I like?”

“For you, handsome, I’ll check.”

The woman was definitely flirting.

“She likes you.” Ross waited for the waitress to leave before saying it.

“I eat here four days a week. Her knowing my order isn’t a miracle, Ross.”

“No, it isn’t. But she called you ‘handsome.’”

“At my age,
that’s
the miracle.” Guy opened his napkin across his lap. “Look, I wasn’t ignoring you earlier. You’re right. I do need to come clean with you. Some things that are hard to admit and some I don’t want overheard. That’s why we’re here. I haven’t been completely up front about Lila Wheeler.”

“How so?”

“I told you I have six weeks to make progress with her, but what I didn’t tell you is that I can’t afford for her to be released. Lakeside is on the verge of closing. An arrangement has been made for a substantial donation from her family, one that can keep Lakeside out of the red long enough for the center to have a fighting chance.”

“In exchange for?”

“The truth about the months leading up to Blake’s death.”

“You said he was shot during a convenience store robbery.”

“And as far as I can tell, he was, but there’s more to every story, isn’t there?”

Ross thought about Arlene Pope, about her mother’s boyfriend fathering her child, and nodded. “I guess there is.”

“Lila’s mother-in-law, Ruth, is a wealthy woman, Ross. She wants Lila to get the help she needs, but she also thinks Lila is keeping a secret.”

“What kind of
secret
?”

“I honestly don’t know. Ruth won’t tell me anything, but she’s Lakeside’s only hope.”

“Who else knows?” Ross said.

“About?”

“The money, the center, all of it. Is it possible that Lila’s not talking to you because she knows you’re working with Ruth?”

“I’m not working with anyone, Ross.”

“Aren’t you? What conditions did Ruth put on this proposed donation?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying, and it’s impossible that Lila knows anything. I haven’t told a soul. Not even Mark.”

“And Ruth hasn’t told her?”

“Ruth hasn’t seen her,” Guy said.

“You don’t find that odd?” Ross smiled at the waitress staring at him from across the counter. The woman looked away, apparently having realized she’d been spotted.

“The whole thing is odd, which is why I thought you were the perfect fit. The cases you’ve been working on—”

A light bulb went off.

“You talked to Dan, didn’t you?”

“Of course I talked to him. We’re friends.”

“You talked to him about
me
.”

“Ross, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Ross thought about his suspension, the convenience of the matching six week timelines, and the coincidence that Arlene’s case blew up at a time when Guy had needed him.

“Then tell me I wasn’t set up. Tell me you don’t know about what happened with Arlene Pope.”

“Dan told me about the medication.”

“Did he also tell you the patient tried to kill herself?”

Their waitress returned, setting a cloudy plastic tumbler of black tea in front of Ross and refilling Guy’s less than half-empty water. “Lunch should be out in a minute.”

Guy nodded and thanked her. “Dan said there were complications.”

“And you wanted me for this job anyway?”

“He told me you went to speak with Arlene’s family. He said you suspected she was faking from the beginning, and that you got her to confess. So yes, I might have wanted you
more
because of what happened.”

“I don’t know whether to be angry at you, or thank you.”

“I’d recommend the latter.” Guy lifted his glass to take a sip of water. “Especially considering the alternative.”

“The alternative?”

“To suspension.”

“Was Dan planning on
firing
me?”

“Let’s just say he was about to deliver an ultimatum I didn’t agree with and leave it at that. As long as you can help me with Lila Wheeler, you spend six weeks in New York and get back to life as you knew it.”

“And if I can’t?” Ross said.

“Then I’m not sure you’ll have a job to go back to.”