by David Archer
Sam stayed perfectly still as he listened, processing the information without any expression. He wanted Eric to completely forget he was there, and even with his eyes closed, Eric was very sensitive to others around him.
"If, uh…" Eric began to fidget in his seat again, a soft whimper rising in his throat. "If you, um… to get… in order to…" He took a ragged breath, rubbed his nose again and leaned back. "Sometimes, they ask you to help them with…" He clamped his eyes tightly shut and let out his breath. "You do secret assignments for them, and they give you things. Like, to keep. I—I have two things. I did two secret assignments."
Sam struggled not to react, disturbed by how upsetting the mysterious 'secret assignments' seemed to be, but he kept his silence. It upsets him, but there is clearly a part of him that wants—maybe even needs—to talk about it. Otherwise, he would have omitted it entirely.
Eric put his face in his hands and rubbed a few times, letting out a sigh. "You, uh, if you're lucky, you'll get a nice guard. They rotate them, but over time, you'll see the same guard more than once. They, um, they sometimes let you talk to other consultants on your ward. They aren’t supposed to, but they do."
Eric took a trembling breath, and when he exhaled, he appeared to relax considerably. "Um, you can sometimes make friends when the nice guards are around. If you get to be on the same ward as Special #654013, definitely try to talk to her. You'll know it's her 'cause she has long red hair."
He appeared to ease up a bit more with every sentence that wasn't about the 'secret assignments.' He even chuckled a little, opening his eyes for a moment before deciding it would ruin the image he had in his head.
Sam allowed the faintest of smiles to pull at his mouth, but he kept his breathing even and his body still as a statue.
"Um, there's another one. Special #656013. He's a lot of fun, but he gets into a lot of trouble, just like 4013."
4013? It took Sam a moment to realize Eric meant the girl with the red hair.
"But he's not bad, he's just…" Eric chuckled again, though it sounded more like a giggle that time around. "He, um, he used to show me magic tricks. He could do a trick with anything! He loved to tell stories, and you could never figure out which ones were true and which ones were fake. He… he did…" His discomfort returned in full force. "He did… a lot of secret assignments. I don't know how many, but… he had a lot of things." He began to fidget again, lips quivering.
"One day a couple months ago, he just… they took him for a special job… and he never came back."
Sam slowly straightened up, trying to figure out whether or not to discuss the elephant in the room. Eric looked like he needed a break, and Sam didn't want to overwhelm him, but…
If North Forest Hospital was up to something, what lengths would they go to in order to keep their secret? What lengths might they have already gone to?
Everything Eric had talked about made sense. It was extreme, yes, but that was to be expected with consultants. No technology, no talk, and very limited access to anything that could become a weapon or aid in an escape.
On the other hand, these 'secret assignments' just didn't sit right with him.
What are you thinking? You don't even know if he’s being truthful. There's a reason people like him are kept under lock and key. They're more likely to be sociopaths, they're capable of building weapons of mass destruction with everyday objects, and they can easily break whatever law they want and get away with it. You know this. You were trained for this. He's smarter than you—so much smarter—and you have to accept the fact that he could be playing you.
Sam licked his lips and swallowed, torn, frustrated with himself for not knowing what to do.
"Eric, your friend wants to know what will happen if he breaks the rules."
Eric didn't like the question, but it didn't cause him nearly as much panic as the 'secret assignments.' He rubbed his nose a couple of times, humming for a moment before he answered.
"It all depends. If you break a small one, you just lose a privilege." Eric gave a shrug and wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling his knees up to his chest. "If you're really bad they can hit you, but most of them don't… of the sixty-two guards that rotate through my ward, only twenty-seven of them hit me. There are seventeen others who don't hit me, but they will hit someone who breaks the rules all the time. I'm usually pretty good, so…" He grinned, a devilish smirk. "…they let me off the hook sometimes, when I'm not."
Sam nodded slowly and tried to decide where to go next. Do I believe him or not? How do I know for sure? He slowly opened his mouth, wishing he could borrow some of Eric's processing speed.
"Eric, your friend wants to know how hard they—"
Sam stopped when his phone vibrated against his chest, and he quickly pulled it out.
Incoming Call…
North Forest Hospital
He was out of time.
"Eric, your friend wants to know about the secret assignments he'll—"
"No!" Eric shouted, and his eyes opened. He slapped the sofa cushion and shouted at Sam as if he was scolding him. "No! You do not talk about the secret assignments! You don't talk to other consultants, you don't talk to outsiders, you don't even talk to your guards. You never, ever talk about the secret assignments! Do you understand that? Never!"
"Eric, quiet, that's an order." Sam said it as quickly as he could and hit the green button, standing up out of habit. "Prichard."
"This is Section Chief Albert Harrelson from North Forest Hospital. I understand there was some sort of misunderstanding about a file transfer…?"
Sam began to walk around the office, as he often did when on the phone, his body language calm in spite of the turmoil going on inside him. "Chief," Sam said. “I think maybe you’re the one with the misunderstanding.”
"Oh? How’s that?"
Sam chuckled politely. "I don’t think the clear and obvious instructions I gave could be misunderstood. North Forest Hospital is going to send me all files relating to Eric Brenner and his past and present ward mates within the next twenty-four hours."
Harrelson chuckled condescendingly. "Well, I think that’s the problem, right there. North Forest Hospital never sends any files to anyone."
"Oh." Sam paused. "Well, that won't be a problem. I'll have one of my people come and pick up the files tomorrow morning."
Harrelson paused and let out a quick sigh. "You misunderstand me. North Forest Hospital keeps all of its information strictly in-house. You cannot have access to those files."
"Then you misunderstand me." There wasn't a single note of hesitation. "I have already spoken with the Director of the Department of Homeland Security, who has assured me that I'm getting those files. The only thing you have to decide is whether you give them to me willingly, or if you’re going to force me to get them myself, and… well, who knows what I'll find while I'm digging around?"
Harrelson was silent, no doubt trying to think of a reply, but Sam didn't give him that chance.
"I'll have one of my people fax the request again, just in case you have managed to lose it, and we'll be happy to let you know when we receive the files tomorrow. I I want you to know that I greatly appreciate your cooperation, Chief Harrelson. Have a good day."
Sam hung up his phone and let out a long breath.
"Mr. Prichard…"
Sam turned to look at Eric, his phone still in his hand. "Yes?"
Eric looked up at him, unmistakable fear in his eyes. "Um, wh-why…" He cleared his throat, swallowed, and tried again. "Why do you want my files? Did I—I mean, are you… sending me away somewhere?"
Sam didn't say anything at first, but then he shook his head. He returned to the sofa and sat down, letting out a deep sigh.
"Well, files on a person should be in the same office as the person they relate to."
Eric screwed up his face, though he appeared more confused than worried, now. "Do you need me for that many cases?"
Sam licked his lips. "I don't kn
ow what cases you'll help with just yet, but we’d all like you to stay here, under DHS authority, with my team. It just makes sense for us to have your files here."
"Wait, if you don't know…" Eric shook his head. "I—I can't stay if I'm not working a case. I have to go back to North Forest Hospital."
Sam shook his head. "No, not anymore."
"Are you offering me a contract?" Eric cocked his head. "A contract for a certain amount of time? I know there was one kid who got a contract like that with the NSA."
Sam looked down for a moment, struggling with himself. You can't jerk this kid around, Prichard. You have to be sure. He raised his gaze and stared at Eric, making eye contact with serious intent. You have to be sure you're not making a mistake.
"Eric, you aren't going back to North Forest Hospital. Okay? You are staying here, at Windlass, with me and my team." He hesitated one last time. "Permanently."
Eric inhaled sharply, his breathing picking up as his eyes began to water. He blinked rapidly, and Sam could see the gears turning in his mind as his brain processed what he had just heard.
"I—permanently?" He began breathing a little faster, almost panting, and his eyes had never been wider. "I can stay? With you? With the team? Here? Always?"
Sam nodded. "Yes, that's what I said."
There was barely time to finish the sentence before Eric was throwing his arms around Sam's neck. Sam let out a grunt at the impact, putting his own arms around Eric, and finding himself at a loss for words.
"Thank you, thank you," Eric whispered in Sam's ear, his shoulders jerking. "I will never disobey you again, I promise. I'll…" He let out a harsh sob. "I'll never break the rules or be disrespectful, and I'll be good. I'll be really good, I swear." He squeezed Sam tightly, clinging to the detective like a lifeline. "Thank you, Mr. Prichard. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Sam was still in a daze, but he somehow managed to return the hug. He rubbed Eric's back, vaguely aware of hot tears soaking into his shirt collar. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for several seconds.
"It's okay, Eric. It's alright. I’m sure you’re going to do fine." Sam said quietly. "It's alright. Don't cry."
Eric chuckled, still holding on tight. "But these are happy tears, Mr. Prichard!" He chuckled again, but his voice was still thick. "I've never been so happy, Mr. Prichard. I didn't know a person could be this happy."
Sam didn't have anything to say to that, so he fell silent and continued to hold on.
"Thank you, Mr. Prichard." Eric was whispering again, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice. "You're the most wonderful person I've ever met in my whole life."
And that was the moment when Sam knew he had made the right decision. He knew North Forest Hospital was up to something. He knew Eric wasn't playing him.
From a logical point of view, there was still a possibility Eric was lying, or perhaps exaggerating. There was no evidence of wrongdoing or evil intent in anything he knew about North Forest Hospital at this point. His team would keep their guard up for a while—as they should, as they were trained to do—and he knew he couldn't prove his suspicions to anyone, just yet.
But somehow, he knew.
"Hey," Sam said softly, pushing Eric away just enough so they could see each other's faces. "Summer invited everyone over for dinner tonight. Is that going to be okay? Or do you need some space?"
Eric smiled up at him, his cheeks wet with tears. "It's definitely okay."
Sam smiled back. "Well, you might want to get yourself cleaned up a bit before we go."
Eric jumped to his feet and bounded to the door, stopping only when Sam called for him.
"Hey, Eric. Don't say anything to the team, alright? I mean, about you staying permanently. It's a surprise."
Eric nodded a few times, still grinning, and then he was off.
Sam let out a heavy sigh and sank back into the sofa cushions, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel a migraine coming on, and he hadn't even begun to scratch the surface of anything.
I guess it's official. I'll have to start my investigation into North Forest Hospital. He paused, a slight smirk curling his lips. Hmm. Chief Investigator of Windlass Security, while raising an erratic kid while hunting down psychopathic criminals and killers, and trying to be a family man on top of everything else? How's that for a special job?
EIGHT
"It looks great, Denny." Sam looked up at his friend, who was painting the room that had been assigned to Eric. Since Windlass was officially responsible for him, Ron had insisted that he have a room in the building, and had donated one of the spare offices.
"Yeah, well, I still have my doubts about the bloody color scheme," Denny replied.
Sam smiled a bit at the now bright blue walls. "I didn't like it in theory, but looking at it now, it isn't bad." He nodded toward the ceiling. "You didn't go all the way up."
Denny stepped off the ladder and put his paint roller in the tray. "That’s for the trim. We’re doing red trim, to go with the blue walls. It’s what Eric wanted."
Sam chuckled softly at that, walking closer to the windows. He pointed to the pencil marks on the wall and gave Denny a curious look.
"Oh, so I can hang some shelves." Denny wiped his hands on a shop rag and tossed it over his shoulder, joining Sam by the windows. "I get to build them from scratch, to make sure they work."
Sam raised a brow. "I think you might be having too much fun."
"Hey," Denny said, holding up his paint roller. "It’s my bloody day off. I can have just as much fun as I bloody want."
Sam only chuckled and headed toward the door. "If it were my day off, I would join you, but there's a huge stack of paperwork with my name on it."
Denny winced sympathetically, already back on the ladder. "I don't envy you, mate."
Sam replied with a snort and walked out the door, making his way to his own office just down the hall.North Forest Hospital had finally sent the files. It had taken three days of calling and arguing and, eventually, threatening, but they sent the files.
At first, Sam had felt like a winner when Summer told him they received a huge fax from North Forest Hospital, but when he saw his printed prize, Sam had only one thought.
This can't be everything I asked for.
Sam took off his jacket and picked a file off the top, curiosity taking precedent over paperwork. He opened it up and began leafing through the pages, noticing immediately that large portions had been redacted.
Everything subjective in nature was either missing or blacked out. Notes from doctors, psychiatrists, guards, and other staff were nowhere to be seen. If Eric had said anything to the staff, it wasn't on the pages Sam had, and given the nature of the document he was looking at, Eric had definitely said something. He wouldn't have had any choice.
Basically, they took out everything helpful.
Still, Sam sat down and began to read.
Paperwork? What paperwork?
Full Name: Eric Alan Brenner
Everything else on the page had been blacked out.
It appeared the battle for information was not over.
Of course, Sam planned to use what little they gave him, but it was disturbing in any case, particularly if the rest of the documents had as much blacked out as the one in his hands.
The next page referred to Eric having some sort of overdose, but the medications he was on was blacked out, like so much other information. Sam already knew Eric had attempted suicide in the past, so if Sam went through the available records and found more such attempts, it might confirm his suspicion that he wasn’t being told everything. Once he had confirmation, he would have some idea of where to look next and what files to obtain.
Of course, that was only one theory.
An overdose of illegal drugs was on the list of possibilities, along with the existence of an inside drug ring. Eric might have obtained the medication he overdosed on by simply saving his daily doses until he had a lethal amount, or by purchasi
ng them from a guard or psychiatrist. That brought up the problem of money, seeing as consultants weren't allowed to have any on their persons, but it didn't eliminate the idea entirely. Eric might have done one of his 'secret assignments' to get the drugs.
If it really was a suicide attempt, knowing why Eric attempted in the first place would be helpful. If it was a sudden, spur of the moment decision—maybe one triggered by severe side effects or an outside stimulant—then he wouldn't have had the chance to hoard what he needed.
Of course, every one of his theories could have been wrong. Every one of his theories could have been right. All three of them could have been right but still not the true root of the problem. Sam really had no idea, and until he gained access to real information, he had to use speculation to fill some rather impressive gaps.
Sam snapped the folder shut and shook his head. Paperwork. I have paperwork to finish, and then I can work on my pseudo-investigation.
He gathered the files from North Forest Hospital and put them on the nearby sofa, returning to his desk and starting his computer. He drummed his fingers as he waited for the machine to power up, a frown slowly contorting his features.
If the overdose was genuine, what does that say about Eric's mental state at the time? If he had hanged himself, he most likely would have succeeded. Overdosing isn't the most reliable way to commit suicide, and he would have known that, so… was he secretly hoping someone would stop him? Maybe it was more of a cry for help than a genuine desire to die.
It would make sense. Eric was so, so starved for affection, Sam could easily see him attempting suicide just to know that someone, somewhere, would bother to keep him alive.
Even if it was only because they were paid to.
He would have been eleven, according to the date of admission. North Forest Hospital might have censored the medications, but I can still tell the list was long. He was in the beginning of puberty, had been recently removed from his home and separated from his mother, and was potentially overmedicated. He probably didn't even know which thoughts and feelings were his anymore.