by Laura Greene
“Is there something wrong with those?”
“No one is allowed in them,” Mikey says. “I'm o... only here for another few weeks, but some of those up on the top floor have been here for years. There are r... rumors they'll never get out. You can h... hear screams from up there at night. They tell us all it's a place for the sickest, most violent patients, but I don't kn... know... I sure wouldn't want to end up there.”
Jessy's face gives away her intentions.
“It's a secure ward,” Mikey says, clearly picking up from Jessy's demeanor that she is intending on going up there. “You can't get inside. Only the doctors can.”
Jessy's heart begins to sink. She thinks of Harlan festering somewhere inside, and wonders how she's going to get into a secure ward.
“If you're looking for someone,” Mikey says, pulling the knot tighter on his dressing gown as a draft flutters by, “I hope you find him.”
“I hope you feel better, Mikey,” Jessy offers. “And thanks again.”
They part ways, and Jessy heads along the corridor. She passes countless rooms; most of them seem to be offices. Then, she sees a section ahead. A sign reads, “Wards 1 – 6.”
At least I'm on the right track, she thinks, looking around to make sure none of the staff have noticed her.
After walking through a large set of metal double doors, Jessy sees that the section she is in now contains the wards in that wing. Patients seem to be freely moving between the wards and so Jessy stops one of them, a man in his 60s, and asks for information.
“Excuse me, do you know Harlan Mayweather?”
“Afraid not,” the man says. “What ward is he in?”
“I'm not sure.”
“You should ask one of the orderlies, they'll tell you.” The man suddenly turns and sticks his head through the doorway to Ward 1. “Hey, Pete! You know a guy called Harlan Mayweather?”
A deep voice confidently replies from the room, “Nope.”
“A visitor is looking for him. Says he's a patient.”
Jessy hears the deep-voiced man stand up from out of view and walk to the doorway. She wants to run, but it is too late. Pete is about six foot four inches in height and about as wide as the door as he walks into the hallway.
“Can I help you, Miss?” he asks.
“I was looking for someone called Harlan Mayweather, but it doesn't sound like he's here,” Jessy says. “Sorry to waste your time.”
Pete doesn't say anything. He's staring at Jessy's chest. At first she thinks he's being a sleaze, but then she realizes why he's doing it.
“Where's your visitor's pass, Miss?” he asks suspiciously.
“I must have dropped it somewhere. I'll go back to the receptionist and ask for another one.”
“Stop right there!” a familiar voice yells from further down the corridor. It is the receptionist. “She shouldn't be in here!”
“I'm sorry, Miss,” Pete says softly. “But I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
At this point, a doctor walks out of the doorway to Ward 2. She is in her forties and has graying blond hair and glasses, and yet has a youthful glow to her face.
“What's going on here?” she asks.
This couldn't get any worse, Jessy thinks to herself.
“I'll just see myself out,” Jessy adds.
“She's just looking for her friend,” the patient, who is still standing in the corridor, scratches his head and yawns. “Harlan Mayweather, was it?”
The doctor's face carries a strange expression momentarily. She stares at Jessy. “There's no one here by that name. I think you’d better leave.” The doctor puts her hand around Jessy's elbow, next to her bag, makes a strange movement and then marches Jessy forcefully down the hallway.
Peter accompanies them but does not step in, and Jessy does not fight it. She knows that will only result in the police being called, which could alert her enemies to her whereabouts. Instead, she walks calmly alongside her escorts until they reach the exit in the lobby.
“You want me to make sure she leaves the hospital grounds?” Pete asks.
“I'm sure there's no need for that,” the doctor says, glancing strangely at Jessy. “If this lady causes any issue for patients outside, then you can do so.”
“I won't. I'm leaving,” Jessy says, giving the doctor a knowing glance.
“Good,” replies the doctor, who then walks back towards the wards in the east wing.
As Jessy leaves the hospital Mia is pacing up and down outside, her nerves clearly showing. When she sees Jessy, she runs over to her and they embrace.
“What happened?”
“I was caught pretty quickly,” Jessy says. “But I met a doctor in there who had me escorted from the premises.”
“You didn't get any info then? Nothin'?” Mia asks, disappointed.
“Not exactly,” says Jessy. “I got two things. First of all I found out there's a secure ward on the top floor which is the exact kind of place you'd expect them to be keeping Harlan, if he's still alive.”
“What else did you find?”
Jessy puts her hand into her bag and pulls something out of it. It is a business card.
“I didn't find this, but I noticed the doctor slip it into my bag as I was being walked out. I think she wants to talk to us.”
Chapter 4
“Officer Murphy, Officer Stanton,” Jessy says from the passenger window of Mia's car.
“Where the hell have you been!?” Murphy asks. He is a young cop, though his bright red hair is already graying from the stress of the job. Slight in figure, he is the antithesis of the other officer present. Stanton is in his early 40s and burly. He looks like he could have been a wrestler in a previous career.
Mia turns off the ignition as the two officers crowd the car. They are perfectly parked outside of where Danny and Jessy have been living for the last few weeks under witness protection.
“Garrett has been calling us from his hospital bed,” Stanton says, his voice deep and resonant, as though his words echo within his massive frame.
“Is he mad?” asks Mia.
“He's livid,” answers Murphy. “You know, he trusted me and Stanton to take care of you, Jessy. Same with the other two officers who were watching you, Mia.”
“I'm glad he's mad,” laughs Mia. “It shows he's well on the way to recovery.”
“Danny told us you were both on a wild goose chase,” Stanton says. “You know, these guys who are after you, they're violent. You don't want to take any chances with them. We still don't exactly know who they are, and that makes them an unknown quantity.”
“I'm sorry,” says Jessy as she exits the car. “But would you have let us go if we'd asked?”
“No!” Murphy laughs. “Garrett would have killed us. I think he still might.”
“His bark is worse than his bite,” Mia says, exiting the driver's side. “Is Danny still up there?” Mia points to the apartment building.
“Where else would he be?” answers Stanton.
“We gotta speak with him,” she says.
As Jessy and Mia head to the apartment building, Mia whispers, “That Stanton ain't too hard on the eyes.”
“Do you ever stop, Mia?” Jessy laughs.
On entering the apartment building, they take the elevator this time. As Jessy reaches the door to her temporary apartment and fiddles with her keys, the door opens with force. A pair of well-meaning arms comes out to greet her. Danny hugs and kisses Jessy in the hallway and then ushers them all inside.
“I know you're mad, Danny,” says Jessy.
“I'm not mad, Jessy. I'm so happy you're okay. I had a terrible feeling I wouldn't see you again after that phone call, and I don't think I could cope with that. Ever.”
Jessy walks into the kitchen where there is a small table. “I'm so sorry, Danny. The last thing I want to do is scare you. But I feel like all of this is my fault, and there's only one person who can fix it.”
“Harlan?” he says somber
ly
Jessy nods and then sits at the table. “He must know something about who is after us. Maybe something that can help bring them to justice before our lives are permanently ruined. That's if he's even still alive.”
“What's that in your hand?” asks Danny.
“It's a business card for a Dr. Jenkins. She works in a psychiatric hospital, one we're sure Harlan was admitted to, but the records have all been scrubbed. She snuck this card into my bag as I was being escorted from the building. She obviously wants to talk.”
Danny sits at the table and sighs. He then caresses Jessy's hand. “When we got married, do you remember the vows I wrote?”
“Of course.”
“One of them has been sitting in my mind for weeks. I remember standing in front of the congregation, before God Himself in the church. I promised to follow you wherever you wanted to go. I wrote that vow myself. But I haven't been doing that, have I?”
“Danny, I love you so much. But I want to make things right. I know you want to stop me...”
“Exactly,” he says, gently lifting Jessy's hand and then kissing it. “Another vow I took that day was to protect you to the ends of the earth. My work... My career... I got caught up in it. All because I've always had this deep need to prove myself. I nearly let it destroy us. But not anymore. I'm going to keep my vows, Jessy. Yes, I don't want you to do this, but if you do, I will follow you to wherever it leads, and I will protect you with my dying breath.”
Tears well up in Jessy's eyes. They kiss and whisper I love you to each other.
“Aww, you guys,” Mia says, coming over and sitting with them at the table. “If I get through this, I think I want what you two have. It's special. Maybe that Stanton is a good place to start.”
“Stanton, the cop outside?” Danny says, laughing. “Didn't think he'd be your type, Mia.”
“What can I say? I'm a stickler for the strong, masculine types.”
Danny turns to Jessy.
“Okay, detective,” says Danny, wiping the tears from his wife's cheeks. “What's our next move?”
“Call the doc, duh,” Mia says sarcastically. “Don't worry; it took us a while to get a hang of all this detective stuff ourselves.”
“Does Mia have to come with us?” Danny laughs.
“Just try and stop me.”
Jessy looks at her best friend and her husband. “I'm so lucky to have you both in my life. It's a life I think is worth saving. And that's why we need to find Harlan.” She pulls out her cell phone from her bag and then looks at the business card. She dials the number.
“Is it just ringing?” asks Danny.
“Yeah... maybe she hasn’t got her phone on her or... oh... Dr. Jenkins? I saw you at the hospital today, I...” Jessy pulls the phone from her ear. “She hung up.”
“Well that don't make any sense,” observes Mia. “She gave you the card, didn't she?”
Jessy's phone then beeps. “It's a text message. Interesting... it's an email address.”
“She obviously doesn't want to use her phone in case someone's listening,” Danny offers.
“I'll email her.” Jessy quickly writes an email on her phone to the given email address. Within two minutes, she receives a reply. The next hour a series of emails are exchanged as Jessy finally gains Dr. Jenkins' trust by telling her who she is and why she's looking for Harlan.
This candid approach results in a long email after that, explaining everything Dr. Jenkins knows.
Jessy scans the email. “Harlan's alive!”
Mia and Danny come running back into the kitchen and sit beside her.
“I don't believe it,” Mia gasps.
“I mean,” Jessy continues, “he's heavily medicated in the secure ward, but Dr. Jenkins says he's been there for four years!”
Jessy clears her throat and reads part of the email:
“When I heard you were looking for Harlan Mayweather, I knew this was my opportunity. I first became aware of Harlan two years ago when I was promoted to working on the secure unit. I was told by my superiors that he was extremely violent and was to remain heavily medicated indefinitely.
“This was very strange. Even in the most difficult cases, medication reviews take place every few months to ensure patients are being given the best possible treatment, but not with Harlan. I began to feel that something was very wrong about how he was being treated. After pulling some strings with a fellow doctor on the ward, I was able to take over from the nurse who attended Harlan – at least every couple of days. He was messed up when I entered the room, but he had moments of fleeting clarity.
“After a few visits, he started whispering to me about not being ill. About how he had deliberately gotten admitted to Rochelle Psychiatric Hospital. That was about all I could get from him before he would slip back into a haze. His words struck a chord with me, and I began to suspect that my superiors were deliberately keeping him sedated for less than benign reasons.
“One day, I took the opportunity. When I was alone with him, I injected him with a drug cocktail to temporarily fight the sedation. He came around, and when he did, the story he told me was so unbelievable I should have thought it was a delusion. But I knew in my heart it was more than that.
“Harlan had once been an undercover cop. He was part of a secret attempt to uncover corrupt officials throughout New Orleans. This brought him into contact with a man he would only name as Kilburn Price.”
“Kilburn?” Danny says, enthralled. “The guy who sold us the house and then was killed at the museum?”
“Exactly,” answers Jessy, before continuing on with Dr. Jenkins' email.
“They struck up a friendship, and while Kilburn was involved in some pretty shady stuff, he had serious concerns about what a crime boss known as Carmichael was doing to the city. Specifically, unknown to Carmichael, Kilburn's nephew was left paralyzed after being beaten by some of Carmichael's crooked cops.
“Eventually, Harlan and Kilburn teamed up to bring Carmichael down. Unfortunately at this time, Harlan's cover was blown by a traitor on his team. He had to immediately go into hiding, even having some corrective surgery to alter his appearance. But he wouldn't leave New Orleans behind. Kilburn, who was still trusted by Carmichael's underlings, set Harlan up in a house somewhere in the city...”
“I think we know which house,” Mia interjects.
“And then,” Jessy reads on, “he did everything he could to amass evidence against Carmichael over several years. Carmichael knew that someone was moving against him, but not who exactly. For this reason Carmichael faked his own disappearance, hoping that whoever was trying to bring him down would be thrown off the scent.
“But Harlan wasn't deterred. He found evidence Carmichael was alive and was still running the city. But he needed the names of every judge, police officer, and public official who was being paid by Carmichael. Without that, Harlan could never hope to bring him to justice without one of his crooked minions intercepting the information and snuffing it out. Harlan had already been betrayed once and it had ruined his life; he needed to know who he could trust.
“Harlan then uncovered a lifeline, his best shot at finding out who was in Carmichael's pocket. A man named Grant Williamson from a small town called Wild Cove had at one time been an accountant for Carmichael. He had intimate knowledge of Carmichael's operations, with the papers to prove it. Unfortunately, Carmichael grew nervous about how much he knew and so had him assassinated.
“At that point, Harlan made a startling discovery. Carmichael thought Grant Williamson was dead, but in fact he had survived a gunshot wound to the head and had been secretly moved by undercover officers to Rochelle Psychiatric Hospital to recuperate. Williamson was significantly impaired, but the hope was that he would recover enough of his memory to point the finger at Carmichael and to tell everybody the location of the papers showing who worked for Carmichael. Unfortunately, the undercover team responsible for secretly placing Williamson in the ward was quickly unearthed and
wiped out, but Carmichael was still unaware of Williamson's survival – meaning he was stuck inside the hospital, and too afraid to tell people of his true identity.”
“So that's why Harlan got himself committed!” Mia says enthusiastically. “He was trying to get to this Grant Williamson fella.”
Jessy reads the last couple of paragraphs of the email and then looks up from her phone.
“It was all a ruse,” she says, shocked. “Grant Williamson had died. Carmichael knew someone was after him. When Harlan managed to get himself into the secure ward, one of Carmichael's operatives, who was working the ward, eventually realized who he was. It was a trap. Carmichael is a twisted individual. Not only did he win by getting his hands on the person who was trying to bring him down, but he's kept Harlan in a drug-fueled haze to punish him.”