Harlan's Secret (Behind The Crime Book 5)

by Laura Greene

  Jessy sighs.

  “Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling us?” asks Danny.

  “Dr. Jenkins is a very ethical person. She takes her oath to do no harm seriously. She wants Harlan freed, but she has children, and can't risk them coming to harm if she’s caught. She's convinced Carmichael would institute a scorched earth policy and kill them as a punishment if he knew she was trying to bring Harlan's story to light.”

  “So, let me guess,” Mia chimes in, “she wants us to do it for her?”

  “Something like that,” answers Jessy. “But there's something else.”

  “What?” Danny's gaze is steady.

  “She says there's a man who visits the ward with people who look like bodyguards every few months. He's the only person allowed to visit Harlan by Dr. Jenkins' superiors. Harlan has informed Dr. Jenkins that the man in question is Carmichael himself. He enjoys taunting Harlan personally, pointing a gun at him inside his padded room and wanting Harlan to ask to be put out of his misery. That's Carmichael's ultimate victory. He wants to break Harlan to the point where he asks to die.”

  “Carmichael's a sicko,” says Mia. “We can't let him get away with this.”

  Jessy's expression turns to one of determination. “Dr. Jenkins says she's willing to supply us with fake IDs and passes for the secure ward as visiting doctors from another institute. Then it's up to us to get Harlan out of there. She even has a cover story in mind.”

  “Is there any point in trying to talk you out of this, Jessy?” Danny says with a wry smile.

  “No,” she answers. “Is there any point in talking you out of coming with us?”

  “No,” Danny laughs. “I guess it's better to burn out than to fade away. I'm with you.”

  A plan begins to formulate in Jessy's mind.

  “I'll email Jenkins and tell her we're in, but first, I have to make an important phone call.”

  Chapter 5

  “This coat chafes,” Mia says, standing outside of Rochelle Psychiatric Hospital.

  “You look like a scientist,” Danny laughs. “Just go with it.”

  “I would ditch the sunglasses, Mia,” Jessy advises. “I'm not sure they give off a professional vibe.”

  Mia sighs and puts her sunglasses in her bag.

  It is two days since their last visit to the hospital. Dr. Jenkins had hidden their fake IDs in a nearby park, along with the white lab coats they now wear.

  “What if that receptionist is on the desk again?” asks Mia.

  “Dr. Jenkins said she isn't. That's why we had to wait until a night shift when she isn't on.” Jessy stares up at the looming building before them in the darkness. She knows this could very well be the place where she meets her end, but she still pushes forward.

  Danny leans in and kisses Jessy.

  “That ain't professional, either,” snipes Mia. “No holding hands in there.”

  “Maybe we could just swap Harlan for Mia?” Danny jokes to Jessy.

  “Let's do this,” Jessy says, taking a deep breath.

  They walk up the steps into the building, open the doors and then slip inside.

  A man with bad acne in an orderly's uniform sits behind the reception desk, and he is not one they know. Jessy can feel Mia sigh with relief next to her.

  “Hello. How can I help you?” the man asks.

  Jessy steps forward. “We're from the Carpenter Institute in New York. We're here to observe the sleeping habits of violent patients as part of a new study.”

  “Here are our credentials,” Danny says, handing over some papers.

  “Let me see,” the orderly looks at the computer screen in front of him. “Yes, I see you're on the system.”

  Jessy silently gives thanks to Dr. Jenkins for sneaking their names onto the authorized personnel list in the computer database.

  After ensuring that their IDs match the names on the visitors' register, the orderly issues each of them a high security visitor pass.

  “Try not to mistake the docs up there for the inmates,” he says. “Sometimes it's hard to tell who's who.”

  “Oh, that is funny, honey,” Mia pats him on the hand. “Be sure to come and get us, sweetie, if they think we're the deranged ones.”

  The orderly clearly enjoys the banter. “Good to have a laugh with you; night shift is so boring.”

  “Where is the secure ward?” Danny asks.

  “Just up through that door,” the orderly answers. “Take a left and then a right, and you'll come to an elevator. Take it to the top and you can't miss it, though you might want to,” the man laughs again.

  “Good one, sweetie,” Mia says, winking at the orderly as she, Jessy, and Danny move to the doors at the rear.

  “Well, that was easy,” Mia whispers once through the doors.

  “I think that's the easiest part,” Danny says in a low voice.

  The trio follows the directions, their footsteps echoing on the stone floors and emphasizing the deathly silence of the building at night. Reaching a set of brass elevator doors, Jessy presses the button. They enter.

  “Which one is it?” Mia asks, her voice nervous.

  “The orderly said the top,” answers Jessy, pushing the highest button on a column of buttons. It lights up and the elevator is underway. “Just stay calm and remember to play your character. We're doctors.”

  As the elevator comes to a stop and the doors make a pinging noise, Mia whispers, “I was always terrible at drama; my teacher said I couldn't help being me.”

  The doors open into another lobby. This time, it is surrounded by thick glass and a large metal security door with a keypad.

  “Can I help you?” a nurse says through the intercom.

  “Hi,” Jessy replies. “We're the three doctors expected from the Carpenter Institute in New York.”

  “Oh, yes!” the nurse says with enthusiasm. “You're here to study patient sleeping patterns and how that affects their behavior, aren't you?”

  “Yes, that's right,” answers Jessy. “We're exploring whether poor melatonin production and other inhibiting factors might explain violent behavior in some patients. If our hypothesis is correct, we may be able to create a treatment for it.”

  “Fascinating,” the nurse says. “Present your IDs and visitor clearances, please.”

  Jessy presses her photo ID against the glass, and Danny and Mia do the same. The nurse looks at them and then clicks a button on her table. The buzzer sounds and the door opens.

  “Thank you,” Jessy says as they walk through the doorway.

  “My pleasure,” the nurse replies. “How would you like to do this?”

  “Do all of the patients have viewing slits on their doors?” Danny asks.

  “Yes,” the nurse says. “Would you like to do the rounds first?”

  “That would be great,” Jessy agrees.

  “Okay,” the nurse turns to her desk once again. “Let me know if you need anything. Here is your key. It should open any of the patient doors.” She hands a key card to Jessy before wishing them well.

  Jessy has committed Dr. Jenkins' description of the secure ward to memory. She leads on, turning through several quietly lit corridors, counting the doors under her breath. Mia and Danny follow silently, their nervousness almost palpable.

  “13,” Jessy says under her breath. “This is it.”

  They face a large white metal door to a cell room. Unlike most of the other doors, this one has no number. Jessy thinks of the door in her house, the one she found all those months ago. She thought that was Harlan's door, but it was not. She knows now that this in front of her is truly Harlan's room. A place where he has been abandoned for years.

  Jessy's hand trembles as she pulls out the key card from the receptionist and slides it through the slot next to a keypad. The door beeps and unlocks. Slowly, Jessy pulls the door open. The room is dark inside, and yet there is a figure sitting in a chair with its back to the door.

  Mia looks at Jessy with a tear i
n her eye. “Is it him?” she whispers.

  Jessy steps into the room. This small, confined space has been Harlan's prison for all these years. And yet, Jessy reminds herself, there has been an important part of his mind and his soul left in that room of her house. The words... his words and thoughts and dreams, leading her on, urging her to this place.

  “Jessy?” a frail voice says.

  “Harlan?”

  The figure turns in his chair. It is a wheelchair.

  “Dr. Jenkins told me you were coming,” Harlan says. “She told me everything you've accomplished. This might sound strange, considering we've never met, but... I'm proud of you.”

  Jessy steps slowly towards him. In the darkness, her eyes adapt and she sees the face of Harlan for the first time. He has atrophied, spending all this time in his room. His face is haggard, his cheeks and mouth gaunt, but his eyes are keen. This is a man with an indomitable spirit.

  He slowly lifts his hand. Jessy reciprocates and gently strokes his withered fingers.

  “I knew you would come,” he says. “I left those files for someone bright. But most of all, for someone who cared.”

  “Why were they so cryptic?”

  “Because I couldn't risk the wrong people figuring out where I was going. If I had known it was all a ploy to get me here to Rochelle Hospital so Carmichael could catch me, I would have made it a lot simpler. Hell... I wouldn't have come here in the first place.” He starts to laugh, but the laugh is soon interrupted by a coughing fit.

  Jessy's heart aches for Harlan. His body has been broken.

  When he recovers, Jessy turns to him and says, “These are my friends; my husband Danny, and my best friend Mia. They've helped me, along with a detective named Garrett.”

  “It's an honor,” Mia says, surprising everyone by being so courteous.

  “Mr. Mayweather,” asks Danny, “the first three cases, how were they connected to Carmichael?”

  “The sniper,” Harlan's voice is weaker than before. “The first case... he had worked as a shooter for Carmichael before becoming completely unhinged. Carmichael protected him from prosecution. The Houston Party, the second case – an attorney by the name of Walsh Pickman was involved and he was doing the dirty work for Carmichael from the DA's office.”

  “And the bodies under St. Louis. Cemetery?” asks Mia.

  “They were to expose that Carmichael was still alive, weren't they, Harlan?” Jessy interjects.

  “Of course,” says Harlan.

  Suddenly, an alarm rings.

  “What the...” Danny looks out the door of the cell.

  “They're onto us,” Harlan says weakly. “Go, save yourselves!”

  “No,” Jessy yells over the alarm. “We're not leaving without you.” Leaping behind Harlan, Jessy pushes him in his wheelchair out of the room.

  “Where to?” Mia panics.

  “How did you open my door?” Harlan wheezes.

  “Dr. Jenkins organized for us to get a key card. The nurse at the front gave it to us,” Danny answers.

  “It must open the fire exit doors as well,” Harlan's voice is barely audible over the alarm. “That's the safety procedure here. Down this corridor, take a right.”

  The group runs as fast as they can down the hallway. They follow Harlan's directions as he gives them. Somewhere on the same level behind them, they can hear shouts of orderlies and security running around looking for them.

  “There! The fire exit!” Mia yells as it comes into view at the end of a sharp turn.

  Jessy flips the key card over through the keypad and the door unlocks.

  “Finally, some luck!” Danny pulls the heavy door open.

  But they are confronted by a flight of stairs. They turn to Harlan, who is smiling on his chair. “Get out of here, all of you! Get the truth out to the world! Tell them what happened to me!”

  This plea falls on deaf ears. Danny rushes over to Harlan and pulls him up into his arms. “Down the stairs!”

  Several orderlies now come around the corner, running and shouting towards them.

  “Mia, give me one of your heels!” Jessy shouts.

  Jessy takes one of Mia's high heels and smashes it on the floor. The heel breaks off, and Jessy jams it forcefully into the swipe slot of the fire exit door keypad. When they disappear into the stairwell, the door locks and the orderlies struggle with the jammed card slot, unable to open the door quickly.

  The stairs seem endless. Harlan holds on to Danny with his withered arms, coughing, while being carried at speed.

  Finally, they reach the bottom door. Jessy opens it with her key card and they rush out into the night.

  But the night is blinding. Several flashlights are shining in their faces.

  “Stop right there...” a voice says.

  Jessy shields her eyes from the high-powered flashlights and begins to make out the shapes of several men. One in the center is speaking, and he does so with twisted menace.

  “Carmichael,” Harlan says, his voice now a mere whisper.

  “Well, Harlan,” Carmichael says, “thanks for delivering these fugitives directly to me. Now you really are a complete failure!”

  The men laugh, and they point their flashlights on the ground at Jessy and her companions' feet. Now Carmichael comes truly into view. He is wide jawed, but with pointed features, and his eyes have the same fire as Harlan's. Carmichael is a man who will not be dominated, and who will crush those who so much as try.

  Putting his hand in his inside jacket pocket, Carmichael pulls out a revolver.

  “It's a shame all this is coming to an end,” he sneers. “I'd love to make all of you permanent residents of the hospital, but this is too much smoke to hide – even for me. I guess we'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way. A bullet in the head.”

  “Harlan isn't a failure!” Jessy shouts.

  “You've got guts, kid,” Carmichael says. “Pity; I could have used someone like you.”

  “You've failed, Carmichael. Harlan wins,” Jessy says confidently.

  For the first time, Carmichael looks worried. “And why would you say something as stupid as that?”

  “Because, dear Carmichael,” Jessy yells, “we didn't come alone.” Jessy turns to the darkness nearby. “You there?”

  Suddenly, a red dot of light moves along the ground and it points straight at Carmichael's chest. Footsteps then come, and a still-limping Detective Richard Garrett walks out of the shadows, armed with a laser-sighted rifle.

  “Oh boys?” shouts Garrett. “It's hunting season, and it looks like I caught a snake.”

  Responding to Garrett's words, four more red laser points appear, followed by four officers from behind Carmichael. Two of them are Stanton and Murphy, and they are all armed to the teeth.

  It would be foolish to fight, but Carmichael's intellect is dwarfed by his sense of entitlement. He fires off one shot before Garrett puts a bullet through him. He collapses to the ground, writhing in pain. His bodyguards are not as rash. They drop their weapons, knowing to fight would mean death.

  “No, no, no!” Jessy cries out.

  Harlan is still in Danny's arms. But from his frail body, red blood oozes from his side, staining his white hospital gown.

  Garrett rushes over as Danny lays Harlan on the ground. They try to stem the bleeding, but the bullet has caused a massive wound.

  “We'll fix this,” Garrett says, but his voice sounds uncertain. It is as though he knows what the outcome will be. He turns to Murphy and Stanton. “Get inside the hospital; find someone who can help.”

  Harlan whispers something.

  “I'm here, Harlan.” Jessy leans over his failing body and holds his hand.

  He stares into her eyes with a look of deep appreciation. He then smiles.

  “Thank...” he coughs and splutters, “thank... you... Detective...”

  Harlan Mayweather breathes his last, and Jessy weeps on Danny's shoulders as sirens swell in the distance.

  Epilogue />
  Danny carries a cardboard box overflowing with files and papers into a decent-sized room that looks over the French Quarter of New Orleans. “Is this the last one?” he says, huffing and puffing.