“Good to know.” Gerri half turned away, hesitating. “I need a favor.”
“Anything.” Ray caught the eye roll Robert threw her way, knew his opinions on her playing George to Gerri’s Nancy Drew drove him crazy.
“I’m heading to the hospital to see the Richards boy,” the detective said. “I’d love for you to talk to his doctor for me while I ask him questions.”
Ray shed her lab coat immediately, setting aside the chart. “Robert,” she said with a big smile. “You’re so wonderful at your job, you can take care of this for me, can’t you? Put him away for a while. I’ll be back.”
His long-suffering sigh followed her out the swinging doors.
***
INT. – ST. BONIFACE HOSPITAL – AFTERNOON
Ray dropped her frivolous mood as she climbed into the front seat of Gerri’s car, realizing they were now in a position where the detective could grill her on her whereabouts this morning. But, to her relief, Gerri seemed more focused on her own thoughts, barely saying a word the short drive to St. Boniface Hospital.
Knowing she’d dodged a bullet she’d likely have to take eventually, Ray followed her into the elevator and up to the pediatrics ward. Ray hated peds worst of all, had avoided it as best she could in medical school. She adored children, but the floor was often full of sweet young faces who she knew would die far too young. Too softhearted for her own good, according to Mummy. She needed to toughen up.
If someone could show her how, she’d be eternally grateful. As it was, Ray simply kept her head down and followed Gerri through the ward, focusing on the tiles at her feet and not the doorways through which death waited to take young lives.
Gerri came to a halt at the nurse’s station. “James Richards?”
“Are you family?” The older, heavy-set woman with the cute pigtails frowned at Gerri as the redhead flashed her badge.
“I’ll handle this, Bea.” A handsome young man in scrubs interrupted, his stethoscope draped around his neck. He’d been on duty at least twenty four from the appearance of his scruff. Ray knew the worn-out intern look very well. He gestured for them to follow him as he spoke in a soft, kind voice.
“I’m Dr. Colin Dunn,” he said.
“Detective Meyers,” Gerri said. “Dr. Hunter.” Ray nodded to him.
“You’re here about James Richards.” Dr. Dunn paused near a half-open door, face tight. “I take it you were at the crime scene, Detective? You know about the exorcism?” He seemed to choke on the word.
“I take it you disapprove.” Ray spoke up before Gerri could, smiling with wry understanding. Dr. Dunn responded in kind, though anger flashed in his dark brown eyes.
“James was born with Down Syndrome,” he said. “And though instances of schizophrenia are almost unheard of in Down patients, I further diagnosed him with early onset only six months ago.” His perfect white teeth clenched, narrow shoulders twitching. “The kid is sick, not possessed.”
Ray’s eyebrows arched at the sight of a young priest emerging from the room. He caught Gerri’s eyes and came toward them with a sad frown while Dr. Dunn looked away, tsking with irritation. Ray let one hand settle on his arm, hating she could suddenly see blood on his face, knowing the young doctor would make a fatal mistake at some point in the next few years, drive high and exhausted and pay the price behind the wheel. But, she was used enough to seeing the deaths of others and not being able to do a thing about it she shunted that information aside long enough to offer him a steadying, understanding hand.
Dr. Dunn smiled grimly in return as Gerri addressed the priest who joined them.
“Father Delacruz, have you met Dr. Hunter and Dr. Dunn?”
Father Delacruz shook Ray’s hand, but Dr. Dunn wouldn’t even look at him. “We’ve had the pleasure,” the priest said.
“If you call it that.” Dr. Dunn finally turned to glare at the priest. “You realize by being here you’re perpetuating the parent’s delusions their son is possessed? They won’t let him take his medications and I’m going to be forced to call in social services.”
The priest raised both hands in sad protest. “I’m trying to convince them otherwise,” he said. “I assure you, the exorcism right was all their idea. And Father Harry simply agreed to perform it in an attempt to do just this. To convince them he needs medical attention, not the help of an exorcist.” Father Delacruz’s face fell. “And yet, now, after seeing what I saw… the boy needs medication. But, I fear we’ve truly gone beyond what modern medicine can heal.”
Ray wanted to laugh in his face, but she was raised to be polite. “What an interesting diagnosis,” she said while Dr. Dunn snorted an angry agreement.
But Father Delacruz appeared haunted, truly upset. And after everything Ray had witnessed—her own ability not withstanding—who was she to deny there were things out there in the world that defied explanation?
“All I know,” the priest said in a hushed and anxious voice, “is James Richards is the only witness to what happened to Father Harry. And I will do everything I can to help him share that information with us.”
“Then, tell his parents to allow me to give him the meds he needs.” Dr. Dunn stormed past the priest.
“No need,” Edward Richards appeared at the door with a grim, righteous expression on his face, and he wasn’t alone. A Hispanic woman stood next to him, her hands tight around her rosary, a slim blonde with hungry, watchful eyes standing behind them. Ray felt Gerri go rigid beside her as the father spoke again. “My son has told me the truth. The demon killed Father Harry. And Father Harry killed the demon.”
“Praise the Lord,” Maria whispered from behind him.
***
INT. – ST. BONIFACE HOSPITAL – AFTERNOON
Gerri stepped around the unresisting couple, heading directly for Kara Tremaine. The reporter had the good sense to look nervous, but stood her ground when the detective stopped directly in front of her, glaring down at her. Gerri kept her hands in fists at her sides to keep from smacking the young hotshot. Barely.
“Dr. Dunn,” Gerri said in a quiet voice, knowing if she tried for a normal tone, things would get out of hand quickly. “Call security. This woman is a reporter with Channel 8.”
She heard him swear from behind her, caught the flicker of irritation in the woman’s eyes.
“I’m here with permission from the family,” Kara said, the tightness of her face telling the detective she was ready for a fight.
“Your permission has been rescinded by orders of the Silver City Police Department, as this is an ongoing murder investigation.” She leaned in to whisper in the woman’s ear, body vibrating with the effort it took to not grab her and shake her. “The next time you interfere in one of my cases, I’ll put you in a cell.” Without waiting to see Kara’s reaction, Gerri pushed past her to the sound of Dr. Dunn calling for security.
Done with the troublesome reporter, Gerri got back to business. She aimed for the young man in the hospital bed. While the Richards family wouldn’t normally be able to afford a private room, she guessed, James’s involvement in a murder investigation gave him special privileges.
Just as well. She didn’t want to scare the crap out of some other kids and their families by the questions she was going to ask.
James panted softly into the cool, antiseptic air, eyes closed, distinctive Down Syndrome features making him appear almost cartoonish. She’d been friends with a girl with Down in elementary school and defended Amy time and again on the playground before her parents decided to take her out of the system and homeschool her. Gerri never did find out what happened to her friend. But, it left her with a warm spot of memory that never left her.
This young man needed her help. Gerri couldn’t bring herself to believe he’d killed the priest, not because he had a damaged or extra chromosome, but because he had been clean of blood when he was found. It wasn't possible for him to saw off the old priest’s junk without getting the evidence everywhere. From the description she had fro
m Father Delacruz, James had been too out of it to write his own name, let alone commit murder. Though, such states could be faked.
James turned his head, tongue protruding from his full lips, his distinctively almond shaped eyes opening and meeting hers. No demon lived in this boy. At least, not that she could see or feel. Her instincts told her he was sick, that he needed medication and therapy and whatever else modern medicine could offer him. He’d draw the short end of a shitty stick and there was nothing she could do for him but find out who killed Father Harry.
Gerri sat next to him, hearing the soft whispers of his parents, Ray’s quiet voice, that of Father Delacruz and Dr. Dunn, all mixing together as background noise she then ignored as she focused on James. His lips parted, a soft croak emerging. Gerri lifted the plastic glass with its crooked straw and held it to the boy’s lips, watching him drink. A thin trickle of water escaped the corner of his mouth, wetting the pillow. With the greatest tenderness she could muster, Gerri gently blotted the moisture away.
“James,” she said.
“Jimmy.” His smile lit him up, but only for a moment. No, a demon didn’t possess him. But the kid had a devil on his back, no question.
“Jimmy.” Gerri rested her arms on the edge of the bed, nice and close. “I’m Gerri. Detective Meyers.”
“You’re here about Father Harry.” Jimmy’s clipped speech sounded like he swallowed the words as he spoke.
“I am. I need to know what you remember from that night.” Gerri didn’t bother with her notebook. She had zero doubt she’d forget a word the boy told her.
Jimmy’s face turned crimson, tears squeezing out of the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t kill him.”
Gerri patted his hand. “I know that,” she said. “But I want to find out who did, Jimmy. And I know you can tell me.”
He shook his head, a violent motion, looking away from her. “Demon did it,” he said.
What shit was his parents filling his head with? “Jimmy,” Gerri said. “We both know that isn’t true. Father Harry wasn’t killed by a demon. Who hurt him?”
When Jimmy’s head turned again, Gerri couldn’t help the soft inhale of surprise, the sudden chill of fear that raced up her spine. The sweet boy she’d just met was gone, completely gone. As though he’d been shunted to one side, out of the way. In his eyes now lived something she could barely comprehend, and when it spoke, she had to fight to pay attention to the words and not her own horror.
“A demon,” he said, clear as a bell. “Raped me. The demon raped me and came for me again. Father Harry is a demon. And a demon came for him.” A terrible burble of laughter escaped his thin chest, making his thick lips quiver. “The demon cut off Father Harry’s nastiness. Slay the demon, Father Harry!” Jimmy thrashed on the bed, shrieking suddenly, incoherent words mixed with “demon” and “Harry”, over and over again.
Dr. Dunn lunged forward, calling for a nurse. Gerri leaned away, heart pounding, looking back over her shoulder at the Richards’s. But, instead of being upset, Maria simply smiled at her son, rosary twisting in her hand while Edward glared at the wall over the bed like it offended him.
Jesus. What was wrong with these people?
Ray gestured to her, catching her attention. Knowing from the angry look on Dr. Dunn’s face she was about to be expelled anyway and that it was likely Jimmy Richards had told her everything he was going to without hard-core meds, Gerri fled the room and into the hall, shocked to find Ray wasn’t alone.
A girl of about fourteen stood, clutching her purse, next to an older woman. Though they bore a faint resemblance to each other, the girl also clearly had Down syndrome. She met Gerri’s eyes with a grim expression.
“Is Jimmy okay?” She glanced at the open doorway, anxiety showing as her mother’s arm tightened around her shoulders.
“We should come back, Bets, okay? When he’s feeling better.” The woman smiled apologetically at Ray and Gerri. “I’m sorry if we’re intruding. But Jimmy and Betsy are best friends.”
“We were.” Betsy’s face fell. “Is he going to be all right?”
Gerri gestured for them to follow her further from the door. “I’m Detective Meyers,” she said. “How long have you known Jimmy?”
“Two years,” Betsy said, prompt and precise. “We met at school when we moved here then joined Father Harry’s special student program together.”
“Wilna Huckle,” the woman said, shaking Gerri’s hand. “Betsy and Jimmy hit it off right away. She didn’t have any friends like her in San Diego, so when we had a chance for her to join the program here in Silver City after our move, we were happy to do so.”
“Betsy, you said you and Jimmy used to be best friends.” Gerri ignored the look on Ray’s face. She didn’t want to push the girl, either. But this might be helpful.
The girl nodded, braids bouncing. “He was really sweet at first,” she said. “Then he started to be mean.” She shrugged, looked up at her mother.
“About six months ago,” Wilna said. “Jimmy told Betsy he was seeing demons.” Her arm tightened one more time. “It worried us. So, we asked his parents about it. They said Jimmy was fine. But Father Harry told us he was diagnosed with schizophrenia.”
Betsy’s cheeks pinked and her eyes filled with moisture. “He told me,” she whispered. “What the demon did to him.”
Wilna gasped, pushed her daughter gently from her, looked down into her eyes. “What did you say?”
“I’m sorry,” Besty burst into tears finally, hugging her mother. “Jimmy told me the demon hurt him, but he made me promise not to tell. They all did.”
Whoa. Gerri’s chest constricted, though she suspected there would be more victims.
Wilna’s desperate hurt almost broke Gerri. “Baby,” the woman whispered. “Did the demon hurt you, too?”
The girl shook her head, still burrowed against her mother’s chest. “I saw him,” she said. “But he didn’t touch me.” She met Gerri’s eyes, hers full of anxiety, pain. “I should have told you, Mom. But they begged me not to say. So, I just told Father Dante.”
Gerri spun, fury ripping through her, driving a fist of fire through her stomach. Ray looked about as pissed as she felt. But, when they went looking for the priest, he was already gone.
***
INT. – ST. MARY’S CATHEDRAL OF THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION – AFTERNOON
Kinsey walked the long, hushed aisle of the sanctuary, heading for the altar where an older man went about his duties. She shivered at the quiet of the massive room, how tiny and insignificant it made her feel. While she didn’t believe in much, especially not organized religion thanks to her training in anthropology, Kinsey did trust in her own instincts and in the fact there was much more to the world than the mundane she’d always thought was the extent of human evolution.
Now, with the information she was gleaning from her studies, she highly doubted that was the case.
“May I help you?” Kinsey turned to find a young priest behind her, smiling down at her. He seemed a little unsettled, hands clenched before him, but his interest was genuine.
“I’m looking for Father Dante Delacruz,” she said. “Detective Meyers sent me?” Technically, she wasn’t supposed to say that. But she doubted the priest would have any clue she’d been taken off cases with Gerri.
The brief flash of concern on his face told her little, except that he had issues with Gerri. Well, who didn’t? Kinsey turned up her smile to show him she was no threat and, in response, he relaxed somewhat.
“This way, please. I’m happy to assist the police department further.”
“I’m not a cop,” she said as she followed him back the way she’d come, out into the foyer. At first, she worried he might actually be kicking her out. But, he turned as they crossed the entry, heading for a set of stairs descending in a spiral, her feet now silent on the crimson carpet, hearing muffled by the upholstered walls covered in tapestries. “Dr. Kinsey DanAllart. I’m an anthropologist with a specialty in s
ymbology.”
“That explains your visit then.” He sounded oddly relieved, though she wasn’t sure he should, considering his mentor had been murdered. It was darker down here in the undercroft, low lighting in the narrow basement hallway giving her further shivers. He led her at last to a small wooden door and gestured for her to precede him, following her inside and closing the door. The small office was windowless, with a simple wooden armoire and a desk and towering filing cabinet filling most of the space. He smiled with a hint of embarrassment as he scooted around her and settled in the chair behind the desk, leaving her to perch on the rickety wooden one facing him.
“They don’t offer much room to an exorcist’s apprentice,” he said with a soft laugh.
“I came up through the education system,” Kinsey said, wry good humor genuine. “My first office was half this size, so kudos.”
Father Delacruz folded his slim hands on the surface of his desk, earnest expression so young she wondered if he’d lied about his age to get into seminary school. “The symbol on the wall,” he said. “Detective Meyers said you translated it?”
Kinsey nodded, sitting back. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” she said, “but it’s simple Aramaic. It means lover of boys.” She watched him swallow, appear unsurprised. “You knew, though, didn’t you?”
He shrugged, then shook his head. “Father Harry was a wonderful man, Dr. DanAllart.” The priest’s voice shook. “And I swear, it wasn’t true.” Or, didn’t want to believe. “I’m certain I would have known if he was harming the children.”
Exorcized (Episode Five: The Nightshade Cases) Page 4