by Jaime Maddox
“What do you need from me?” he asked.
Jess placed the empty bowl on the wooden table before her and tried to find a smile. “I’ll let you know.”
Chapter Four
Disappearing Act
Jess leaned into her father, felt his arm surround her, protecting her from the cameras and the shouting reporters still hovering on the streets of Garden. The walk from her back door to his truck was just twenty steps but seemed to last an eternity. He waited until she was tucked safely in the front seat before depositing her suitcase in the back.
Jess pulled her hood forward over her head, adjusted her sunglasses, and slipped down on the front seat, the seat belt forgotten. The risk of dying in a crash during the quarter-mile ride to the hospital was much lower than the risk of being photographed by the media.
After managing a K turn in the confines of her driveway, a process that required several maneuvers and a string of foul words, they edged toward the street. The news crews that had respected the signs Zeke had posted and remained on the sidewalk had seemed so far away as she’d cowered in the house. Now, as they drew nearer, Jess closed her eyes but couldn’t block the sounds as the reporters came to life, jockeying for position near the driveway, shouting questions at the closed windows of the truck.
Sinking lower in the seat, Jess hoped to disappear, not just to avoid the press but everything she’d been dealing with and what lay ahead as well. She felt her father’s hand on her thigh, heard his words, but her senses seemed diminished by the fog surrounding her.
“We’ll be there in a minute.”
As she felt the truck pick up speed, she dared to raise her head. They were moving down her street, toward the hospital. The pack of reporters was behind her in the mirror, and Jess felt relief she knew would be temporary. What was awaiting her at the hospital? Surely, they’d staked out her workplace as well. Wendy was going through the same thing, with a mob in front of her funeral home, where she worked and lived on the upper floors. She’d braved them and tried to walk to Jess’s house the night before, but gave up after half a block and took refuge in a neighbor’s yard. The press had the good sense not to follow, but she’d still been shaken when she arrived on Jess’s doorstep.
Jess felt a twinge of guilt about leaving. Would it be harder for Wendy once the reporters realized she’d skipped town? Or would they just give up and go away?
A sense of relief filled her as they arrived at the ER entrance to the hospital. Not a soul was in sight. Not a smoker in the butt hut, or an idling ambulance, or a national news reporter. Still, she waited for Zeke to back into the ambulance bay before exiting the truck. Just as he tucked the back of the truck up against the ER doors, the scene changed.
Suddenly, reporters who’d hoofed it from the house came running up to the truck. Their affiliated vans began filing into the lot. Dread replaced the relief for a moment until another vision filled her sight. Dozens of people, some dressed for work in scrubs and lab coats, others in casual attire—all of them Garden Memorial Hospital employees—began forming a cocoon around the truck.
“Stand back,” someone shouted, and miraculously, the reporters responded. Unseen hands opened Jess’s door, and the murmur of voices grew louder. “Doctor! Jessica! Dr. Benson! Sheriff! How do you…How did you…How does it…When did you?”
Jess wanted to cover her ears to dampen their shouts, but she suspected that image would become a front-page photo. She wouldn’t give them anything more to print about her. She was saved when one of the ER nurses grabbed her elbow and eased her from the truck. His name was Mark, and he was a sexist egomaniac. Jess was sure he was helping her solely for the chance to get his face on national television, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she was grateful.
“Keep your head down, Doc. I’ve got you.”
Jess did as instructed, grateful for the hoodie as the click of camera shutters assaulted her eardrums. With Mark guiding her, she was pushed through the ER doors on a wave of friendly bodies, and after they closed behind her, Jess looked around, feeling safe for the first time in days. It was unusually quiet, but she took comfort in the space, with the rack of patient charts and the bank of monitors, the shelves of reference books and piles of forms, the computers strategically positioned around the nurses’ station. Then she looked up to see Ward Thrasher, fatigue and worry on her beautiful face, and she broke down.
Uncontrollable sobs came from the depths of her, shaking her body as Ward closed the gap between them, wrapping her in her arms as she whispered words of comfort into her hair. “It’s going to be okay, Jess. Shhh. It’s over. He can’t hurt you now.”
Their bodies fit perfectly together; they were the same height, the same build, the same everything. Jess wondered for the hundredth time in recent days what she’d been thinking when she let Ward go. Could they ever be the same again? She feared the answer and instead focused on the concrete. Listening to Ward’s murmurs, Jess knew she was right. It was over, she was safe.
But she couldn’t help reliving the abduction, and each time it replayed in her mind, the clarity of the details became crisper. The pain of the stab wound as Hawk jabbed the needle into her flesh. The weightlessness of complete paralysis. The total terror as she understood the vulnerability of her position and that she would likely die. Hawk’s far-away voice sounding so calm, as if he did this every day. And, Jess had come to learn in the days since her abduction, he did. She’d never forget the look in his eyes when she was paralyzed—the excitement, the joy he gleaned from his power. That look had faded over the hours of her captivity, when Hawk became anxious and angry and agitated. She was scared then, but never as scared as she was lying on the floor of her office staring into the blank eyes of a madman.
The office where Hawk had attacked her was only a few feet away from where she now stood, behind a set of locked metal doors. Their proximity was too much, though. She wasn’t sure she could ever go into her office again, but for the moment she couldn’t even debate the possibility. She needed to get away. “I have to get out of here, Ward,” she said, and began walking in the opposite direction.
Jess heard Ward’s footsteps behind her, then felt Ward’s arm on her shoulder. “Say good-bye to your father.”
Jess looked up and saw Zeke approaching, and she stepped into his arms. “I’ll call you when I can,” she said.
“Can I call you?” he asked, and Jess felt miserable for lying to him, but she shook her head against his chest. She wouldn’t mention him on her HIPAA form, and Ward would be the only emergency contact. The less her father knew about the PTSD, the better. She wanted him to know nothing of her addiction. “I have to just rest for a while, okay? But if you really need to reach me, call Ward.”
Jess could feel his sadness in the gentle way he released her, opening his arms to allow her to leave instead of stepping back or pushing her away. “I love you,” she said before kissing his stubbly cheek and turning away.
“This is good. I think we can escape before your groupies realize what we’re up to.”
“The hospital has only a few entrances. I bet they’ve already staked them out.”
“I hope not,” Ward said as she took Jess’s hand and guided her through the corridors and stairwells that led to the employee garage. The passageway was empty, as was the garage, and Jess followed Ward to her SUV. “I think you should get in the back, at least until we’re out of the hospital.”
Jess climbed into the cargo area beside her suitcase and rested on a bed of blankets. When she was settled, Ward took her place behind the wheel. “Here we go,” Ward said loudly as she began the downward spiral to the exit.
“How’s it look?”
“Shit,” Ward replied. “Stay under the blankets, Jess. There’s gotta be a dozen people waiting just outside the gate.”
“Do you think they can see in?”
“No. And I don’t think they’ll recognize me. Hold on.”
“Hi,” Jess heard Ward say. “What’s going on?�
��
The attendant’s voice wasn’t clear, but Jess could imagine the response. “Wow,” Ward said a moment later. Jess felt the car begin to move, and a moment later it stopped. “Do you want to interview me?” Ward asked.
What the fuck? Jess wondered.
“I’m Dr. Thrasher,” she replied, then was silent for a moment. Jess could hear murmurs, indistinguishable from beneath the blankets, where it was also growing quite warm.
“No, I don’t really know Dr. Benson that well.”
Jess felt the sting of that comment, because she knew it was true. She’d kept so much from Ward that she didn’t feel like Ward knew her at all. No one did, really. So why was Ward here? Did she really care that much? Or was she just trying to get her face on the news? A sudden, chilling thought occurred to her. What if Ward was planning to sell her story? Ward knew everything about Hawk and much too much about Jess. And now, she was talking to the reporters while Jess cowered in the back of the car, hiding from the very limelight Ward was soliciting.
After what Jess had done to Ward, she wouldn’t blame her one bit if that was her plan.
More murmurs filtered in, and then she felt the car begin to move again. “Try George’s for the best burger in town,” Ward said before picking up a little speed.
Jess held her breath expectantly for a few seconds, but it appeared they’d escaped the reporters. Before she could ask, Ward spoke. “All clear.”
Jess pushed herself up, seeking the freedom of fresh air. She gulped it in. “What the fuck were you doing?”
“Relax. I figured I’d draw less attention if I sought it. And it worked. We’re on the road leading out of town, and no one’s following us.”
“Why don’t you pull over and get me out of here?”
Ward didn’t speak, but Jess felt the car slow abruptly, heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. Then the door opened and closed, the hatch lifted, and fresh air and sunlight flooded the cargo area. She looked up to an extended hand reaching for her. Jess took it gratefully and allowed herself to be pulled from the car.
Throwing an arm around her shoulder, Ward pulled her closer as she steered Jess toward the front. “Let’s get going before the paparazzi find us.”
A moment later, they were moving again, and Jess hardly noticed the scenery changing as she thought about the journey ahead of her. Inpatient treatment at a psychiatric hospital. Wow. A month ago, she wouldn’t have believed it. Hell, a week ago she wouldn’t have. Yet here she was, sitting beside Ward, heading south on the turnpike toward Philly, not toward their home or the beach, but toward the Hartley Clinic. The name sounded prestigious and might have been a surgical center or a weight-loss retreat, but it wasn’t. It was a nuthouse, and she was the nut.
With Ward the silence had never been uncomfortable, and it wasn’t now either. They were an hour into the journey before she spoke. “Thank you.”
Without taking her eyes off the traffic, Ward reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Jess had spent the previous day making arrangements, and Ward had been working, so all they’d talked about was her need for a ride to the hospital. Luckily, the administration had been able to fill the ER schedule. Reese Ryan, Jess’s college roommate, and a few doctors from neighboring hospitals were pitching in to cover the schedule. The hospital had had its fill of locum tenens doctors after Edward Hawk, and Jess was relieved to know Garden Memorial was in the good hands of people she knew and trusted while she was away. It meant she could focus on herself and her recovery.
They would admit her whenever she arrived, and she was grateful for the freedom in scheduling her day. She was putting Ward out and felt badly for it. She felt badly about everything, and suddenly the tears began again. As if she’d anticipated them, Ward had tissues at the ready and offered a handful to Jess. When her hand was empty, she placed it on Jess’s knee and let it rest there.
“I’m sorry,” Jess said when she could breathe enough to form the words.
Ward nodded. “I know, Jess.”
“For everything.”
This time Ward smiled, then turned to her and winked before fixing her eyes on the road once again. “I know. Are you hungry? Would you like to stop before we get to the hospital?”
Jess wasn’t sure what she wanted. She dreaded going to the hospital, though, and she figured delaying her arrival for as long as possible was better than the alternative. “How about King of Prussia?”
“Hmm. Good choices there. What are you thinking? Calamari? Steak? Cheesecake?”
They’d eaten at the restaurants at the mall on many occasions. It was a short, scenic ride to KOP on the back roads from Wayne, and they’d taken advantage of it when they lived in Philly. “God, I never realized it, but I miss Philly.”
Ward laughed. “It has its advantages. So what will it be for the last meal?”
Jess playfully tossed Ward’s hand from her leg. “I’m going to the nuthouse and you’re making jokes.”
“It beats crying, right? You certainly have plenty of reasons to cry, Jess, but laughter feels so much better, doesn’t it?”
Jess bit her lip. Ward was right, of course. Jess always tended to be too serious, too uptight. It had been one of the biggest problems in their relationship, but Jess had come to appreciate it as an asset, too. Though they were opposites in many regards, they mostly complemented each other rather than clashing.
“I’m going to spend the next half of my life learning to relax.”
“I hope it doesn’t take that long.”
“Shut up. It’s something I can work on at the hospital.”
“Yes, it is. Maybe I should have asked you this earlier, but do you have everything? Insurance cards, cell phone, laptop?”
“They don’t allow electronic devices. Can you believe that?”
“What? Are you sure? That sounds ridiculous.”
“I’m trying to remember medical school, when we did our psych rotations. Did people have cell phones?”
“I don’t think they did. There was always a line of people waiting to use the pay phones. Why, though?”
“The website says they want patients to focus on healing, to eliminate the stresses and distractions of the outside world and concentrate on recovery.”
“You don’t sound like you buy it.”
Jess laughed. “I think the patients are calling their dealers and having drugs delivered like pizza.”
Ward snickered. “The clinic has an excellent reputation.”
Jess nodded. She’d read everything she could find about Hartley before placing the call to them, and she was impressed. They had programs for physicians, police and firefighters, and other professionals. The staff consisted of a variety of psychiatrists specializing in various problems and counselors of all kinds, who offered individual, small-group, and large-group sessions. They accepted most insurance as payment for services, but for the uninsured, the twenty-eight-day treatment plan cost a mere $31,000.
Jess was about to comment on that, when the meaning of Ward’s statement hit her. “You looked it up?”
Ward snuck a sideways glance in Jess’s direction. “Of course I did. I’m not going to trust just anyone with you.”
The tears started before she knew they were coming. “You still love me, don’t you?”
Ward reached across the distance between them, which suddenly seemed huge. The gentle squeeze of her hand spoke volumes. “Of course I do.”
“I feel it.”
“Nothing will ever erase what we had together, Jess. You’ll always be a part of my life.”
Silently Jess wiped her tears and her nose and eased into the seat. No matter what she’d done, she still had Ward.
“I have to ask you a favor. A very big favor.”
Jess could sense Ward’s fear, even though she didn’t hesitate to answer. “What?”
“You’re going to be my contact person and all that shit, okay. That’s not a problem. But they�
��re probably going to ask you some questions about me, to try to get a handle on my problems. Make sense?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I don’t want you to tell them anything.”
“Okaaaay. Why?”
“You really don’t know about my addiction, since I never shared it with you. And I can tell them what they need to know about the PTSD. I don’t even know if I have it. They’re the experts, they’ll figure it out.”
“Jess, the more information they have, the better they can take care of you.” Ward’s tone was condescending, and it hit a nerve. Jess snapped.
“I’m a doctor, Ward. I understand that. But there are things I don’t want them to know, okay?”
“Like what?” Ward looked at her, her mouth open in obvious disbelief. “What could you possibly want to hide from the people who are going to save your life?”
Jess sighed. She hadn’t wanted to share this with Ward, and she suddenly wished she’d hired a car to take her to the hospital. No matter what the cost from Garden to Philly, it would have been much easier than dealing with Ward. “I’m not going to tell them I’m a doctor.”
“What?”
“Ward, I’m not doing it. I am not reporting myself to the state. I’m going to get this under control, and I’m going to do it my way. I’m going in voluntarily, for God’s sake. Who does that? Only someone who’s responsible, like me.”
“Jessica. Listen to me. You have an ethical obligation to notify the state medical board that you have an impairment. If you do, they’ll monitor you and help you through this and forgive you. If you don’t report it, and someone finds out and turns you in, you’ll be fucked. You’ll lose your license, and who knows what else they’ll do to you.”
“No one’s going to find out. No one knows I’m here.”