Oblivion - Debt Collector 13 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  Kelly brought down her window. “What’s happened?”

  “Sorry, it’s a police investigation.”

  Medics emerged from the building carrying a stretcher with a body bag. They quickly loaded it into the ambulance while a police officer comforted a distraught secretary.

  “I’ll give you one guess who’s in that body bag,” Zach said. “Shit!”

  11

  Hanna Cross was waiting outside Dr. Chapman’s office as he entered the building juggling his morning coffee, a cell phone and a brown briefcase. He set the briefcase down, adjusted his eyeglasses and gave a nod as he reached into his pocket for keys.

  “Nurse Cross. Morning. Can I help you?”

  “It’s about last night. I need to talk to you.”

  He opened the door and gestured for her to enter. Once inside, he set his coffee down, slid his briefcase onto the table and took a seat. He took off his glasses and breathed on the glass before rubbing them with tissue. “Go ahead.”

  Still standing, she set the baton on the table. “Jenkins was carrying this when he assaulted Mr. Winchester.”

  His brows rose. “That’s quite the accusation. You have proof? Witnesses?”

  “Winchester told me.”

  “Ah,” he said taking the baton and leaning back in his seat. “Nurse Cross. You’re aware this is a forensic hospital, yes?” He didn’t wait for her to reply. “Patients are mentally disturbed. In fact, Winchester was placed here because he was deemed insane. And yet you believe him?”

  “I do.”

  “Have you asked Jenkins about this?”

  “He denied it. He said they found it on him, got into a scuffle and he got the better of them.”

  “So he attacked our staff and then blamed it on them?”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “Was it? Did you witness the attack?”

  “No.”

  “So then you can’t be sure. Can you?”

  “Well no but…”

  He set the baton on the table. “Nurse Cross. Winchester was just returned from Adirondack Medical Center where he assaulted two security guards and used one of their batons. Is it possible that he somehow managed to hide that baton and our staff overlooked it?”

  She reached for it and extended the baton with one sharp jerk of the hand. “I hardly think he managed to hide twenty-one inches.”

  Chapman opened his hand and she gave it back. He slammed the tip of it against the floor to get it to go back in, at which point it was no longer than six and a half inches. “Twenty-one inches. I agree. Roughly six inches? I’ve seen patients insert bigger things in their anus.”

  Her eyes widened, and she went slightly red in the cheeks. Chapman set it back down. “You are still on a three-month probation, isn’t that right, Nurse Cross?”

  Oh she could see where he was going with this. Asshole.

  “That’s correct.”

  “Then you should be careful about the accusations you make. I like you. I really do. I think you could be a valuable asset to this hospital but we need to know you are part of the team. That means supporting your coworkers, not throwing accusations against them.”

  “He said Jenkins was the one who strapped him down to the bed in the ECT room.”

  “I expect he did,” Chapman said, confident that no matter what she said he was going to win this argument. He sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

  She continued, “It’s not right. I didn’t take this position to see patients abused.”

  He chuckled. “Work here long enough, and get a few lickings, and you will change your view.”

  “Excuse me?” Was he condoning violence against patients?

  He leaned forward clasping his hands together. “What I’m saying is that every new hire who comes through those doors thinks they are going to change this place. That they will be the one to turn the tide, put things right, and help these sick individuals. They don’t. This place changes you. The only decision is how do you wish to be changed? Will you be a burnout? Will you quit? Will you fight against the system? Or will you soldier on and do what is required of you?”

  “Are you asking me to look the other way?”

  He gave a wry smile. “I’m not asking you to do anything more than what your job requires, Nurse Cross. But please understand one thing. I enjoy my coffee in the morning. I like to be undisturbed for at least the first hour of my day. I don’t appreciate having people waste that time by coming in here and making unsubstantiated accusations against other staff members especially when they didn’t see what happened. So. Leave this with me. I will speak with Jenkins and Porter and…”

  “I never said Porter was the other psych tech.”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “No.” She frowned.

  “Well it’s obvious. They are like two peas in a pod. Anyway, as I was saying. I will speak to them and smooth things out. Hopefully they won’t file a grievance against you.”

  “Against me?”

  “Well, I don’t see Winchester in here complaining. Do you?”

  She stood there dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe it.

  “You can go now.”

  As she walked out of the door, he spoke again. “Oh Nurse Cross,” he said in his most condescending tone. “Close the door behind you. It’s a little chilly.” She pursed her lips and restrained herself from slamming it. She was furious. There was a lot about this place that didn’t sit right and it was hard to explain it away, and yet Dr. Chapman seemed to always turn it around and make it look as if she was going mad, and not thinking clearly. She wasn’t sure what his angle was but she intended to find out. First things first, she had Seth go with her into the seclusion room to release Mr. Winchester from his restraints. He’d spent the entire night drugged up and held down but by the time she entered the small room, he was alert and staring up at the ceiling.

  “Being released so soon? I would have thought you folks would want to turn the knife a little.”

  As she pulled on the leather straps that looked like belts and released his legs, she replied. “Not all of us find pleasure in this.”

  As soon as he was out, she asked Seth to make sure he had a shower, got new clothes and was given breakfast before he joined the others. Before they exited the room, she asked him a question. “Mr. Winchester. Why didn’t you kill them yesterday?”

  “Was I meant to?”

  She studied him. “It’s occurred before and from what I can tell you have a history of violence.”

  “Not everything you read is true.”

  She squinted. “But you had the upper hand.”

  “Did I?” he replied before being led away. It was as if he wanted her to consider his words. One thing she’d learned from her time in the ER was people would tell you anything to get what they wanted. “On a scale of 1 to 10, what is your pain level?” her staff would ask every new patient. Most said 10 even if it was a 1 in the hope of getting treated faster. Mind games were par for the course and that was a regular hospital.

  Jack breathed in the crisp fall air as he stepped into the yard, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep warm. A cool breeze blew against his cheeks turning them red. A flock of birds squawked before settling in a grove of trees. He ambled among the patients, surveying them and putting names to faces. The same groups clustered together like they did inside the pen or a schoolyard. People stuck with those they knew, those who protected them, those who were like them. On the far side, Tyler Sutton tossed a basketball into a net. A cheer rose from his team. He glanced at Jack and smirked. Edgar hurried over and fell in step. “Hey, I appreciate what you did for me yesterday.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “No, I meant it, Jack. You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I was already blacklisted. No point both of us getting a strike, right?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “I guess. Thanks.”

  As they walked the yard together, Jack asked Edgar about Rocket Man. “You
think he knows the way out of here?”

  “Who?”

  “The pianist.”

  “Oh him. If he does, he isn’t telling. When they hauled his ass back in, Chapman grilled him for days. He wanted to know how he did it. They threw him in seclusion for a week thinking it would break him but he just sang Elton John tunes until they couldn’t bear it anymore. They eventually let him out but they keep a close watch on him just in case he tries again.”

  “And has he?”

  “He’s still here, isn’t he?” Edgar said, laughing as he looked around and spotted him on the far side of the yard twirling around and singing “Tiny Dancer.”

  “Well let’s see if he knows,” Jack said heading over there.

  “Hey Jack. C’mon man. You want them to throw your ass back in seclusion?”

  “I’m already in it,” he said gesturing to the razor wire rolled around the fences. He hadn’t made it halfway across the yard when the basketball came soaring over. It missed both of them by inches. He looked over at Sutton.

  “Go get my ball, bitch.”

  “Get it yourself,” Edgar replied.

  Sutton scowled. “What did you say?”

  Jack threw up a hand. “Seriously, you got a death wish?” he muttered to Edgar.

  “Oh he’s full of hot air. He wouldn’t dare touch me. I’d jeopardize his whole enterprise.”

  Jack collected the ball and tossed it over. “What enterprise?”

  “You saw it. I know you saw it.”

  “The drugs?”

  “Yep.”

  Sutton continued. “Hey fuckers. We are two men short. Let’s go.”

  “Ignore him.”

  “That wasn’t a question!” he bellowed as they walked away. Several people looked over and the crowd before them parted as Sutton narrowed his gaze. Even Rocket Man had stopped spinning to observe. Jenkins and Porter watched from the door with an expression of amusement, and maybe curiosity.

  Jack turned and glanced at him. “Maybe another day, I’m busy.”

  “Busy?” Sutton laughed. “I hear that’s what they told Dana when she asked for help.”

  Jack stopped walking and spun around. “What did you say?”

  Sutton smirked and tossed the ball at Jack. He caught it and bounced it a few times before making his way over.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Come on!” He taunted Jack, beckoning him to come at him, but instead he bounced the ball a few more times and then tossed it back.

  “You want to play. Let’s play.”

  The two teams prepared as the rest of the yard looked on with eager interest.

  The ball was thrown, and Jack surged forward looking for his opening, and enough cover to strike. He knew Sutton was baiting him into a fight. Edgar was right, it would only land him back in seclusion, but if he got in a few jabs while dribbling or going for the ball when Sutton had it, maybe, just maybe he could unleash some of his pent-up anger and get away with it.

  Bodies moved fast, darting from left to right, through the middle, covering as much ground as possible. The ball echoed as it bounced on the asphalt. Men shouted as it was tossed from one person to the next. Sutton grabbed it and Jack piled into him, knocking him to the ground, then firing an elbow to his face, cutting his lip as he got up. Jack smiled and Sutton spat blood and cursed.

  The game continued, all the while Jack kept an eye on the psych techs who kept moving to see what was going on, but it was hard to see with so many creating a perimeter around the game, and players moving constantly.

  Sutton was quick to snap back by lunging at Jack as he took a shot and knocking him face first into the ground. He kicked him in the ribs then spat on him before laughing and jogging off. Jack crawled to his feet and coughed hard. The game continued on around him and he quickly joined in. This time both of them observed one another and instead of going for him directly, Jack shoved one of Sutton’s players into him as he tried to dribble the ball to the far end of the court.

  Both of them went down, and Jack scooped the ball up and slammed it into Sutton’s face as he looked up at him. The basketball hit him square on the nose, busting it wide open and causing it to gush red.

  Back and forth they went, punishing each other, each time trying to one-up the other.

  Punching the ribs, kicking the face and pushing team members into each other.

  While this was occurring, Jack’s team was winning.

  Eventually someone blew a whistle, and told them to head on in.

  Out of breath, Jack placed his hands on his knees. He glanced up in time to see someone slip a shank into someone else’s hand, who then passed it to Sutton. He tossed the ball with one hand to distract the others and then surged forward towards Jack.

  Jack sidestepped, spun and drove his foot into his gut before Sutton could get close enough to lash out. Unfortunately, Sutton was faster and grabbed his leg and sliced his calf. He dropped in agony and gripped his leg just as Sutton came at him again. All the while the rest of the crowd were oblivious except for Rocket Man.

  Out of the blue he came barreling over and tackled Sutton from the side, sending him away from Jack. They landed hard and rolled. The shank slid across the ground and before anyone could scoop it up, Porter rushed in.

  “What do we have here? This yours, Winchester?”

  “No.”

  “Oh I think it is. Get up!”

  Jack glanced at Rocket Man who shouted. “It’s mine,” he said taking the fall.

  “Bullshit. Get inside.”

  Jack stumbled towards the door only to have Porter place a hand on his chest “Not you. You wait here.”

  Sutton scoffed and walked on shoving Rocket Man out of the way and telling him he would pay later. Jack could only imagine what that meant.

  “But my leg—”

  They ignored him. He remained outside until everyone was in before Porter strong-armed him in. “You just don’t learn, do you, Winchester?”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “No. Like that baton wasn’t yours.” Porter laughed as he escorted him to the seclusion room, pulling his card so the alarms rang out and security showed up. He made up some bogus claim that the shank was his, a piece of filed-down door hinge. It was his word against Jack’s.

  Tossed into seclusion, and forced to take another dose of Haldol, he could see where this was going. Angelo wanted him to go through a cycle of suffering. Pain, humiliation, seclusion. Anything that could give them reason to keep him longer. Two strikes against him. He thought back to what Cowboy said. The only way he was getting out of here was in a body bag.

  12

  “He went home early,” the secretary for Douglas Sanders said. Dalton shot Kelly a glance and she turned to the young, short-haired woman with oversize fingernails. Something made her look as if she’d just taken the job. Too much makeup. A little ditsy for an attorneys’ office. Unless of course one of them was sleeping with her.

  “Did he say why?” Kelly asked.

  The secretary leaned forward giving Dalton and Zach an eyeful. “He wasn’t feeling well.”

  “He wouldn’t have received a phone call this morning, would he?” Dalton asked.

  “Yes, he did, it was…” She paused and frowned. “Who did you say you were?”

  “A friend of his uncle. Pat. He recently passed away, God rest his soul,” Kelly said. “I tried to get in contact with Doug but with him changing address and all, I figured I could reach him here.” She shortened his name to give her a sense that they were pals, old friends.

  “I’m afraid you just missed him. But if you check back tomorrow, I’m sure—”

  Kelly grimaced. “Unfortunately the funeral is tomorrow.” She let out a heavy sigh and gave her best performance, pulling out some tissues and dabbing the corners of her eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to have his address, would you?”

  “Mr. Sanders would be pretty mad if I gave that out.”

  “It’s for his uncle.”

  “Sorry. I
can’t help. Privacy and such.”

  She nodded. “Pity, they were so close. I know his family would have been pleased to see him.” Kelly tapped the front desk. “Thank you for your time.”

  Kelly gestured to the other two to head towards the exit. She’d only taken a few steps when the woman spoke up. “Look. Wait. Um.” A few seconds longer than she thought it would take but it worked. “I can’t give out his address but…” She pulled up a piece of paper and scribbled down a phone number. “If you’re having difficulties getting through to his cell phone, you can try the home number.” She tore off the sticky note and handed it to Kelly.

  “Bless your heart, darlin’. Dougy should consider himself very fortunate to have someone like you working for him.”

  “You think?” she asked, too young and naïve to be sure of her worth.

  “Oh, positive.” Kelly held the number in the air and smiled before leaving the upscale office located on the east side of town. Outside, she pulled out her phone.

  “Even if he answers he won’t give us the time of day,” Dalton said shaking his head.

  Zach knew better. “Looks like I underestimated you, grasshopper. You took a page right out of my book.” He turned to Dalton. “She’s not going to call the number but perform a reverse address lookup.”

  His brow raised.

  She nodded as she thumbed her phone and leaned against the SUV.

  It took her less than two minutes. Dalton watched over her shoulder as she brought up a website and tapped in the number. One click later and there it was, Sanders’ home address, even the latitude and longitude with directions to get there.

  “That sob story you gave. You reporters really are something else.”

  “Gal’s got to make a living,” she said with a wink.

  They hopped into the vehicle and made their way over to the west side. Sanders lived on River Street West in a gorgeous nineteenth century home that overlooked the Susquehanna River. A sharp black Audi was parked in the driveway with the trunk open as they rolled up the driveway. Either side were huge oak trees with branches that extended like gnarled fingers. As they approached, a tall bald man in jeans, a shirt and leather jacket hurried out with a suitcase in hand, and dragging a carry-on behind him. He shot them a glance, his eyes widening before he tossed the baggage into the back of his vehicle.