Forgotten Place

by LS Sygnet

His unguarded expression caused physical pain. It uncurled in my belly like a punch from a prize fighter and sucked the breath out of my lungs.

  "No lie, Doc. It's what you want. I'm not blind or stupid."

  Chapter 10

  "Park on the sixth level," I said.

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to try something when I leave therapy this morning. If it's all right with you, Mr. Orion, sir," I love sarcasm more than anything else, I think.

  "Does this something involve the case?"

  "It sure as hell isn't about taking a swan dive over the side of the building. If that was the plan, I'd ask you to park on the roof."

  Johnny maneuvered the car into the garage. "Any particular area of level six?"

  "West aisle."

  "The attack happened in the center, near the south end, right?"

  "Yes."

  "You want to go upstairs and talk to Journey before we leave?"

  I did, but couldn't fathom for the life of me why Orion was suddenly being so accommodating of what I wanted. Correction – of everything but one thing I wanted. He wasn't about to leave me alone.

  "Doc?"

  I gritted my teeth at the hated nickname. Stubborn, stubborn man. There was little point arguing about it or anything else. "I'm not sure yet. Am I permitted to use a cell phone in the event that I need to ask questions while I walk through the crime scene again?"

  "I thought she couldn't talk."

  "But Dev can."

  "Dev." Snorted derisively. "I thought you just met him yesterday."

  "We bonded quickly. Some men actually feel remorse for behaving like Neanderthals."

  "Some men don't have the common sense to recognize when another human being is about to self-destruct either, but I'll try not to hold his ignorance against him, particularly since he was the first one to alert me to how horrible you were actually doing."

  "Right," I drawled.

  "No lie. I believe he mentioned something akin to seeing more meat on cattle in India."

  If he wanted to hurt me, that did the trick, earned a spectacular display of silent treatment. I was too distracted by the hurtful observation of a total stranger to protest the fact that he hung around throughout my entire therapy session. Until the last modality at least. Amy handed me a robe and told me to change for the whirlpool treatment.

  I felt my eyelids stretch over bulging orbs. "Absolutely not!"

  "What? Why? Helen, what's wrong with you. Of all the modalities we've used since you started therapy, this is the one you actually seem to enjoy."

  "I will not get in that tub in front of him."

  The glint returned to Orion's eyes. "If I have to strip you and dunk you in that thing myself, I'll do it, Doc. What did I tell you? The nonsense is over as of last night. You're doing whatever these people tell you to do, you're taking your pills in an appropriate quantity, you're eating right and taking care of yourself. Period. No arguments. Or do you prefer doing this from within the confines of a hospital? Say one that specializes in treating people who refuse to take care of themselves?"

  "You wouldn't dare."

  Orion took one step toward me and I was convinced. He would dare. Not only would Dunhaven or some similar candidate be in my immediate future, he fully intended to strip me down and force me to participate in every bit of therapy.

  Dead sober, he murmured, "Yeah, I know. You hate me."

  I looked at Amy, more than a little incredulous that she stood by and witnessed his audacious behavior and failed to intervene. A moment later, I snatched the robe out of her hand and marched behind the privacy screen to strip off my clothes.

  "You will turn around while I get in this whirlpool."

  Johnny nodded, but I didn't trust him not to peek.

  "Helen, I'm concerned about the stiffness in your shoulder today," Amy said after I sunk down until my chin bobbed above the water. "Did you follow my directions yesterday?"

  "I didn't work the joint at all."

  "No, but she did brace herself from falling using the left arm," Orion said. "She had an x-ray yesterday morning to make sure she didn't re-injure the bone."

  I gritted my teeth. "Dr. Scott in radiology reviewed the film with me, Amy. He said nothing was damaged. If I'm stiff, it's probably left over from the workout over the weekend and the thing yesterday with Journey." I changed the subject. "I presume you heard about what happened last night."

  "I did."

  "Have you seen her this morning?"

  Amy nodded. "I poked my head in the door around six. The detective I talked to was sitting with her. She was still sedated. I can't believe how far Jim is taking this thing."

  I looked up at her from my bench in the whirlpool. "You still think he's the one who did this, Amy?"

  "Who else could it be? Everybody loves Journey. She's one of the sweetest people I've ever known in my life, Helen. We're talking about somebody that doesn't know the meaning of the word enemy."

  "Detective Mackenzie talked to your friend Tim yesterday."

  "And?"

  "He said pretty much the same thing. Commander Orion is meeting with Samantha Wine today. I hope she'll be as cooperative as her other friends have been so far."

  "She will," Amy's tone grew grim. "She knows more about whatever it was that happened with Jim, I promise you. I doubt she'll hesitate to break Journey's confidence."

  "Journey told me that the reason she didn't maintain a friendship with Mr. Linder was because her friends disliked him so much. She doesn't believe he would try to hurt her."

  Amy started massaging my left shoulder. "Of course she can't believe it. Journey has a hard time believing in the dark side of man, which is pretty ironic considering her profession."

  "There's a difference between illness and evil, Amy." I should know. I was the embodiment of the contrast between the latter and the former. "Having a mental illness is no different than any other kind of ailment. Did I ask to be shot?"

  Orion snorted.

  "Of course you didn't," Amy said, "and I get your point. You sound just like Journey. Nobody asks to be schizophrenic or to have depression or dementia. But she takes it to an extreme, Helen. There comes a point where you have to draw the line with people and recognize that they choose to be bad, that it's not some nebulous ailment beyond their control."

  I felt Orion's eyes burning into the back of my head. Yeah, I got it. Amy struck a little to close to home for either of our liking. "There are always circumstances that you may not know. Nobody knows everything about another person, no matter how much they delude themselves into believing otherwise."

  "You should reserve judgment until after you meet Jim," she said. "If the guy doesn't make your skin crawl, maybe there's something wrong with you too."

  "Did Journey get the feeling that all of her friends thought she was flawed because of her choice in partners while she was seeing Linder?"

  "We tried to like him, Helen. I already told you this. He made it damned near impossible for her to be with us when he was around. He was sullen and rude and couldn't be bothered to get to know us. It made Journey uncomfortable enough that either she would skip our social gatherings or make excuses about why Jim couldn't come. Honestly, we were all relieved when it reached that point. Including Journey."

  "Really?" I peered at Amy over one shoulder. "Did she say something that made you believe that was how she felt?"

  "No, but it wasn't exactly a mystery. She was relaxed and happy with us again instead of being tense."

  "How long was it between the time he stopped socializing with her friends and the breakup?"

  "Not too long. A couple months at most."

  I fell silent and pondered what she revealed. Could Linder be so irate that Journey essentially chose her friends over him that it prompted two attempts on her life? He wouldn't be the first guy to resort to – if I can't have you, nobody can.

  "Out of general curiosity, how did Journey tell all of you that she and Jim were no longer involve
d?"

  "She didn't. Sam told us."

  "So Sam is the only person intimately aware of the details."

  "If Journey mentioned any of them, Sam would be the one to know."

  I glanced over at Johnny. He didn't even pretend not to give us his complete attention. He nodded once.

  "Did Journey ever talk about meeting any of Jim's friends?"

  "You mean the drunks he hangs out with in bars?"

  "Hmm."

  "Yeah," Amy muttered in disgust. "Most of the time they spent together... well, let's just say that I think others weren't in the picture. How would that make you feel if the guy you were seeing either dragged you to bars to hang out with his fellow alkies or kept you away from the rest of the world?"

  This time, my glance was a glare. "I'd have to say I wouldn't like it, Amy. I wouldn't like it one bit."

  In his defense, Johnny spoke cryptic words. "Then again, Journey wasn't the screwed up partner in the relationship. She actually wanted to spend time with friends and be social."

  Amy sighed. "So I'd love to believe, but to be honest, she has her issues too, Commander Orion." The timer buzzed before she could continue. "That's it, Helen. We're all done for the day. I'll let you get dressed now. I've got some other patient's upstairs that I need to see, so if you don't need anything else, see you tomorrow. Same bat time, same bat place."

  She had the decency to stand behind me holding a towel while the water drained. I slipped it under my arms and wrapped it around those bony ribs I was determined to never let Johnny see again and waited while the water drained and Amy could unseal the door on the whirlpool.

  The second she left the room, I knew.

  "Helen –"

  "Don't, Johnny. I might be stuck with your lousy company until I can convince you that I'm not trying to kill myself, but I don't have to listen to you excuse what you're doing to me."

  "I only wanted to ask if you feel up to whatever you wanted to do in the garage. You sound tired. I thought maybe you'd rather go home and rest."

  "What will make me feel better is anything that makes me forget for ten minutes that I'm being held prisoner by a madman."

  He kept his distance while I walked through the crime scene. I stopped periodically and relived the memory with my eyes closed.

  Scream. Call for backup. Weapon. Moving to position. I pressed my back up against the pylon exactly as I had yesterday morning.

  "Let me use your phone. I want to call Dev."

  "You have his number?"

  "I can get it from division."

  Johnny dangled the phone in front of me. "Do your thing, Doc."

  Moments later, Devlin answered his cell phone.

  "It's Helen."

  "Hey... how are you?"

  I glanced at Orion and wondered what lie he told to elicit the cooperation of those in a position to help me. "I'm fine, perfectly fine. Listen, I'm in the parking garage reviewing what I saw yesterday. Is Journey awake?"

  "Uh..."

  "You can't answer?"

  "This Dr. Waters came in to see her this morning and gave her the test results from his examination of her vocal chords."

  "He thinks I'm right, doesn't he?"

  "Uh-huh."

  I blew out a slow breath. "Good to know, but I really hoped I was wrong, Dev. It complicates things. Journey probably won't remember what this guy said to her until she feels safe."

  "Nothing is gonna happen while I'm here."

  "I meant more than physically safe. Catching the man who attacked her might be a good first step in feeling emotionally secure again. Can you ask her some questions for me?"

  "Sure."

  "How tall is she?"

  I waited and listened.

  "Five two."

  I closed my eyes and envisioned the attack again. "Was she wearing heels yesterday morning?"

  "Two inches, she says. Writes."

  "So five four in her shoes. Her attacker was maybe a head taller than that. Eight inches?"

  "Sounds reasonable."

  "That's not right," I shook my head, as if the jarring motion would put the proper perspective into my mind's eye. "His chin was partially obscured by the back of her head. Let's say six inches on the conservative side. That makes him what? Five ten?"

  "Shorter than you."

  "I wish I'd been that close, Devlin. I guess I could come up to her room and mimic the position they were in. I don't think that would be very good for her emotional state right now."

  "Helen, if your estimate is accurate, think about it. Remember the conversation we had yesterday about height as an advantage?"

  "Yeah. He's shorter than the average guy running around the streets of Darkwater Bay. I wonder what Linder's height is."

  "I'd ask, but uh..."

  "The mere suggestion that we suspected him yesterday put an end to our communication. When is your relief coming in this morning?"

  "Negative on that one, Helen."

  "You're staying with her indefinitely?"

  "A couple of her friends are coming to spend the evening with her. Didn't Orion tell you the plan?"

  Which plan was the salient question. He had no qualms about reiterating my confinement. "Refresh my memory."

  "We're meeting at your place again tonight. Carpenter is coming with whatever he can dig up on the info from his office. Those of you conducting interviews will share the information over dinner. Until then, I'm right here, and I'll be back just as soon as we're done talking."

  "I'm assuming that your reassurances are for Journey's benefit and not mine."

  Devlin chuckled. "I have it on high authority that you're in good hands."

  To my way of thinking, unless he heard it from me, there was no such higher authority. I certainly didn't agree with what was forced on me, but it was pointless to argue. Curiosity being my bane, I asked, "Oh? And who might that be?"

  "Chris Darnell."

  Traitors. The whole damned lot of them. "I guess we'll talk over dinner. If I think of anything else, I'll give you a call later – provided I earn back my telephone privileges."

  "He's worried about you. Can't fault the guy for that."

  "I don't suppose you could."

  The phone was shoved quickly back into Orion's hand.

  "Well?"

  "Well what?" I snapped.

  "Did your walk through make you remember any important details?"

  "Yeah," I said. "Whoever attacked Journey Ireland wasn't a behemoth like the rest of you cretins in this city. That ought to narrow the suspect pool tremendously. We're looking for the one short guy in the whole..." Another image flashed through my head. His hands. I saw the way he held the knife, which wasn't remarkable. The age of the hands were a different matter. At least that was how I remembered it.

  "What?"

  I grabbed one of Johnny's hands and turned it palm down.

  "Doc, if you want to hold hands, all you had to do was ask."

  "Shut up and let me think."

  Did I even remember how old Orion said he was? I stared at the corded veins, weathered knuckles and strong, blunt fingernails. My eyes closed for reflection on the memory without any distracting stimuli. Knuckles were slightly oversized, arthritic perhaps? The grooves in loose skin were deeper, the veins more distended by loss of turgor in the surrounding skin and decreased fatty tissue. The hand around Journey's waist was marked with brown, circular discolorations.

  My eyes popped open. I dropped his hand. "How old did you say you are?"

  "Forty-four on Saturday."

  "Last Saturday?"

  "Next. Is that important, or am I now a suspect in this crime?"

  I shook my head. "It's nothing."

  "I find that impossible to believe. Tell me what you remembered. Don't think I can't tell when you're holding something back, or flat out lying. I've seen it from you often enough to know, Doc."

  "When I'm ready to share, I'll do it with the group. Take me home. I need to be alone."

&nbs
p; Chapter 11

  He dropped Helen off at the house and took her car after dead bolting the doors. Since the phones were all tucked away in the wheel well of the Expedition, and only enough pain medication had been left for one dose, Johnny was relatively sure that Helen would abide by the rules while he met Crevan for the scheduled chat with Samantha Wine.

  Doc wanted to be alone.

  The irony was that Johnny knew he needed the break more than she did. The unending fight over basic needs was one thing. Her near constant expression of hatred crushed the tiniest bit of hope he'd held for the past two months. Somehow in the past fifteen hours, Johnny found himself transformed into an enormous raw nerve.

  Crevan was waiting outside the Sync! high-rise in Darkwater proper when he parked the SUV.

  "You look like you've had better days. Are you still sure this is the way to go with Helen, Johnny?"

  "I should've never let her push me out in the first place," Johnny said. "She ate this morning, and last night when she woke up and took more of that stupid narcotic she's been eating like candy instead of dealing with what happened to her."

  "Is she home alone?"

  "I thought about calling Winslow to stay with her, but I figured they'd form some kind of solidarity based on oppression of women by men for millions of years, and the next thing you know, she'll be hiding out at Maya's starving herself to death."

  "So she doesn't appreciate the effort you're making."

  Johnny's jaw set in a hard line. "She hates my guts. I actually hid her guns last night because I got the distinct impression she might use one of them on me."

  "She'd never do that, Johnny. I know she's upset, but I can't believe she really stopped caring about you."

  "Believe it." He jerked the lobby door open. "I'm to the point where I'm as eager for her to recover as she is. I don't know how men do it."

  "Do it?"

  "Put up with a woman who hates them."

  "She doesn't hate you."

  "I'm pretty sure you're wrong. She sure as hell says it enough. Anyway, let's get this interview done before she decides she'd rather burn the damn house down than see me again."

  Samantha Wine was about what Johnny expected when an editorial assistant escorted them into her office. She was Doc only younger, smaller and meatier. Same attitude, same ball-breaking-I-don't-need-no-stinking-man aura.