Dying for a Living (A Jesse Sullivan Novel)

by Shrum, Kory M.

  A knock on the door stole my attention. The doctor walked in. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Are they okay? Are they here in this hospital, can I see them?”

  “Are you next of kin?” the nurse asked, the one with the red wrist.

  “I’m going to next your kin if you don’t answer my question,” I said.

  The doctor came to the edge of the bed. It wasn’t Dr. York. It was some young guy who I’d seen around. “You need to remain calm, Ms. Sullivan.”

  I grabbed his arm and yanked him toward me so hard he flinched.

  “If you don’t tell me if my friends are dead or alive I’m going to shock the living daylights out of you.”

  “What’s an assault charge on top of everything else?” a voice asked from the doorway.

  Agent Garrison stood there. He had a bandage on his head and a look that told me that if I knew what was good for me I’d shut my pie hole. I admit it was enough to make me pause.

  “That is a terrible way to treat the man who patched you up,” Garrison added. He came into the room beside the doctor-nurse duo and I still couldn’t get over how short he was.

  “I’m sorry,” I muttered, releasing the doctor. I smoothed his ruffled lab coat with my hands and forced a smile. “Post-traumatic stress or whatever.”

  “Do you need to examine her before she leaves her bed?” Garrison asked.

  “Yes.” The doctor removed his stethoscope from his shoulders, but it was obvious he had little interest in touching me after my violent spiel. Regardless, he did his job dutifully, and so did the nurse who checked my blood pressure with a cuff and played with my fluid bags. Though I’m sure she’d found pleasure in stabbing me with a new needle.

  “A little dehydrated,” the doctor finally pronounced. “But she’ll survive.”

  “Can she bring that with her?” Garrison pointed to my fluid bag and to the IV connecting it to my arm. When he lifted his hand I realized his right arm was bandaged too.

  “It has wheels,” the nurse answered. She helped me from the bed then offered me the slender metal bar supporting my IV. I turned toward the bed but Gabriel was gone. I didn’t know at which moment he’d left. Perhaps he really didn’t like being threatened to have his feathers plucked.

  Their jobs done, the nurse and doctor left, leaving me alone with Garrison who motioned for me to follow him. “We need to talk.”

  I shuffled after him, my legs stiff and cold.

  “You haven’t read me my rights yet,” I said. “Is that a good sign?”

  “You will go to jail,” he said. He shuffled through the critical care unit as if he was stiff too. “I can’t prevent that.”

  “I didn’t kill Nessa, if she’s even dead, and what I did to Eddie was self-defense,” I told him. “Surely there’s a way to prove that.”

  “I’d worry more about her if I were you,” he said.

  I looked up, and there was Ally in bed with her blond hair spread over a pillow like Sleeping Beauty. I hobbled over to her side. I searched the monitor for answers. Everything looked okay from what I could tell, but I had no medical training. At the very least, I knew she wasn’t dead.

  “Please tell me she’ll wake up.”

  “It’s only the aesthesia. She just came out of surgery. They removed her spleen and stopped the bleeding.”

  “She won’t need that, right? She’ll live okay without it?” Spleen, what’s a spleen? Why do we have spleens?

  “She’ll be fine,” he said. Then after a moment, “I need to ask you some questions.”

  “Ask away.” I wrapped my hand in Ally’s. I would’ve given anyone anything right then. I was so happy she was okay.

  Garrison pulled up two chairs, opposite each other beside Ally’s bed. He gestured for me to sit and I did, but I didn’t let go of her hand.

  “You will have to tell me what happened,” he said.

  “Do I need an attorney present?”

  “Do you want one?”

  “I don’t want to make this any worse for myself than it already is.”

  “We have your confession of murder on tape,” he said. “You can’t make this any worse.”

  “Because my house was bugged?” I asked. Garrison didn’t answer, but instead gave me the blank cop face I’d gotten so often from Brinkley.

  Gabriel appeared on the other side of Ally, watching her sleep with a curious expression. He didn’t warn me to keep my mouth shut. And Ally was still alive, wasn’t she? Here’s to hoping I still had an angel—or something—on my side.

  I told Garrison everything.

  I started from Eve’s attack and reaffirmed that I hadn’t known that was a fake replacement, nor had I ever met Eve or Martin. I told him about Gloria’s drawings, the mysterious A.M.P. and how he’d manipulated me and everyone I loved into the trap he’d set in the church’s basement. I told him Martin confessed to killing my mother, or at least wanted me to believe he did. I tried not to dwell on the idea that maybe my mother had been right all along. It was too dangerous to let something like me back into the house and if she had done it sooner, maybe Danny would be dead by now.

  I explained how Martin used my departure for Illinois to bait Ally into the trap, knowing damn well I’d follow right after her. I told him Brinkley’s theories about whether it was the Church, the military or the FBRD. I even told him about Eddie and why I burned the barn to the ground with both of us inside. The only things I didn’t admit were electrocuting everyone in the basement and the fact that I had conversations with an angel.

  There was only one place I could go if I confessed to insanity.

  He listened to everything without interrupting “Where did you find Ally?”

  “In the trunk of a car, in the parking lot out back,” I said. I described the car. “We broke the window.”

  “That’s where you were when Bobkins called you,” he said.

  I nodded. “Ally wanted to go back inside for Nessa.”

  “But you didn’t find her?”

  “No,” I said. “We were smacked in the face by a shovel, probably by the creepy guy digging the grave. Then I woke up in the basement.”

  “We have the men you describe in custody,” he said. “All three of them.”

  “Martin stabbed each of them in the stomach or at least it looked like the stomach from where I stood. He wanted me to choose who I’d save and when I was dead, he was going to make that person watch me get my head chopped off.”

  “Martin worked for the FBRD,” Garrison said, gauging my reaction. “But I think you already knew that.”

  “I practically tattooed it to your forehead,” I said.

  “Did Brinkley conspire to kill you, along with Martin and Eve?”

  “No,” I said. My chest burned. “No, he was protecting me this whole time. For the last seven years.”

  “I want to ask your opinion on another theory,” he said and clicked his recorder off.

  I sat up straighter in my seat, my back killing me.

  “Let’s start with a Necronite who gets herself killed by a couple of church fanatics to make it look like an attack. When she wakes up, her accomplice is missing. Now, when the pressure gets high, she returns to the church to reinforce her cover. She lets another accomplice, Martin, stab the only witnesses, and leave them for dead.”

  “What’s my motive?” I asked. “What the hell would I gain by letting myself get killed?”

  “All kinds of things,” Garrison said. “Notoriety. Public attention. Maybe you want to discredit the Church.”

  “Do you really think I would have saved Ally instead of Brinkley, if he was my accomplice?”

  “No, I believe Martin, with the help of the Church, manipulated local prostitutes into deceiving replacement agents. I am not yet sure if Martin acted alone, or under orders, or to what extent the Church is involved. But I do know they killed a little girl just to prove their point.”

  I touched my chest. “Nessa is dead?”

  H
e looked away, speaking to his shoes without lifting his head.

  “Regardless of the truth, Bobkins has formed a strong case against you. Local authorities like him want to make an example of you. He hopes it will send the right message to the public, “Don’t fear them, replacement agents are held accountable, too.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Partial decapitation is an extreme cover story.”

  “You’re the only Necronite who has survived an attack, and you just happen to be the only one with connections to the Church.”

  My voice caught in my throat like a doorstop wedge. “I haven’t been to church in decades.”

  “Your father’s position discredits you.”

  “My father?” I sat up straighter. “You know my father?”

  He stared again, penetratingly, one of those ‘I’ll figure out if you’re lying to me’ stares.

  “I don’t remember him,” I said. “If you know who he is, you’ve got to tell me.”

  Agent Garrison fell quiet again. “If you don’t know then I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Why?!” I asked him. “Does Bobkins know?”

  “No,” he said. “And that’s a blessing.”

  “Why won’t you tell me?” I said.

  “Because all I have is a theory and because you will be much more convincing on the witness stand if that’s where you hear it for the first time. Though I’m not sure they will bring it up. The last thing he’ll want is a public paternity test, especially now that your condition is public as a result of Eve’s attack.”

  He had to be an important man, I thought. Otherwise, public reputation wouldn’t be such a big deal.

  Garrison read my thoughts. “If the Church is somehow involved, I imagine he will pay dearly to keep his name out of this case.”

  “So he is involved in the Church somehow,” I said. “Do you think that they are responsible for the Necronite murders?” If my father was a Necronite himself, why would he be OK with the murders?

  “I’m sorry it took us so long to get to you,” he said. “We tracked Mr. Handel’s phone to the church. We rushed the place and heard you screaming, but those corridors are confusing.” He held up his cut hand and pointed at his head. “We had to fight our way in to get you out.”

  “Do you believe me?” I asked. I felt vulnerable.

  “I believe your story,” he said and it was the first real sympathy I saw in him. “I think you were just lucky enough to survive because you have people around you who care about you.”

  I lowered my head. Why did this make me feel so ashamed?

  “So if you don’t think I’m guilty, where does that leave me?” I asked.

  “I will do my best to try and prove your story. I advise you to be honest in court and tell the judge everything. If what you say about Eddie is true, be ready to talk about that as well. In the meantime, you can expect to be held in the county jail for a few days without bail.”

  “When can I expect a pretty orange jumpsuit of my very own?”

  “Once you heal,” he said. He stood, dragging his chair back to the corner. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Can I see Lane and Brinkley now?” I stood to follow him. I clutched the metal bar for stability but Garrison didn’t move or speak.

  “Oh, are they still in surgery?” I asked when I saw his hesitation.

  “No,” he said, softly, his hand outstretched to stop me. “Brinkley and Lane are dead.”

  Chapter 26

  I went to jail just like Garrison promised. I can’t describe how absolutely terrible the Davidson County Jail was. When Bobkins picked me up, he had other cops with him. They read me my rights while I tried not to cry about it.

  Handcuffs were horribly uncomfortable, and I had to wear them all the way to the station where the real fun began. They took my picture and my fingerprints, which I expected. I’d seen enough television to know that much. What I didn’t know was that after that little welcome, they promptly stripped me naked, searched me, and then hosed me down in a cold shower.

  If that wasn’t humiliating enough, then I had to drag a crappy mattress and a toothbrush to a cell that I shared with a number of women until my name came up on the docket, meaning it was my turn to go to court—all this and an attractive orange jumper with county-provided underwear.

  If sharing a cramped cell with eleven other people wasn’t mortifying, let’s not forget that all hygienic activities, the toilet included, must be done in plain sight of everyone else. Yep. I had to use the bathroom in front of other people. If that didn’t kill me, the food was going to.

  Imagine my utter ecstasy when Ally showed up for visitation, six days in. They brought me from the cell to a separate little room and pushed me down onto a metal stool. Only a sheet of acrylic plexiglass separated us. It was just like with Eve but now I sat on the other side.

  “You look pretty good, considering,” she said, trying to be nice.

  “You look like a dream come true,” I said. “Please tell me I have a court date.”

  “It’s only a couple of days until your hearing.” Ally tucked a sympathetic smile into the corner of her lips. “You can make it.”

  I bumped my face against the glass but it was disgustingly sticky. I regretted my decision instantly.

  “I brought you something that may help.” She gave a small bag to the officer on her side of the glass, who came through a door and gave me the bag. I had to set the phone down in order to open it. Officer Nosey helped. He had to pull out every item and inspect it before letting me have it. There was a chocolate bar, two paperback books, and a small personal pan pizza with cheese and pineapple.

  “Oh, this cheese will help.” I wasted no time shoving half the pizza in my mouth. Jail food was worse than cardboard with salt on it. Dying was a great idea and admittedly not the first time I had it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything in the cell to off myself with—and the guards watched us too closely for me to hang myself with a sheet. “If I could just kill myself, my jail time will just fly by.”

  Ally started to laugh then grimaced. Apparently, she wasn’t fully healed yet.

  “Ok, bad joke,” I admitted.

  “Is anyone being mean to you?” she asked. The tense lines in her face melted away after a few deep breaths.

  “They were the first day,” I said, starting in on the chocolate. “Then they found out I was a zombie. Now they won’t come near me. Apparently, they have their own ideas of what that means. Sometimes I pretend to talk in my sleep, muttering brains, brains, that sort of thing. When I wake up they’re all huddled on the other side of the room.”

  “How’d they find out?”

  “This fat woman in my cell, Felicia, took my toothbrush and polished her toes with it. Then she told me to put it in my mouth.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told her no.” I took another big bite of pizza. “Then she said she’d beat me up if I didn’t.”

  “Oh, Jess.”

  “I told her she could kill me if she wanted, but when I woke up I’d turn her skull into a cereal bowl.”

  “And she believed you?”

  “The guards told her I wasn’t lying about being a zombie.”

  “At least they’ll leave you alone now,” she said.

  I shrugged, finished the pizza in one last bite, and turned to the chocolate whole-heartedly. I knew I had to eat it all before returning to my cell.

  “At least you got to see the service,” she said.

  Garrison had to pull strings and I had to wear shackles, but I did get to see the 21 gun salute. Brinkley’s name was cleared because they assumed he’d been in Martin’s capture from the moment he went missing. Frankly, I wasn’t sure I’d ever forgive myself for being so snotty to the man who died for me.

  The officer who brought me up to the visitation booth tapped his watch. I only had a few minutes left. I nodded and took another big bite of chocolate.

  “Kirk’s been saving Lane for you,” she said. “
Lane’s mom let Kirk put him in a freezer or something. She won’t give me Winston without your consent.”

  Not Lane. I couldn’t think of him while I worked hard to keep it together in this place. The irony didn’t escape me. Of course it figures that as soon as I commit, he dies.

  I changed the subject.

  “Why didn’t you show up that night?” I asked, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes.

  “What do you remember?” she asked.

  “Just tell me everything,” I said. “From the beginning, the way you remember it.”

  “You told your mother what Eddie did and she didn’t believe you. She wouldn’t kick you out because she didn’t want the neighbors to talk. At first, I couldn’t believe it. You were always so dramatic, even back then. I thought you were just grounded for being sarcastic.”

  I remembered. I remembered sitting in a dark room, all of my things removed, but the bed, desk and lamp for my homework. I remembered passing the nights alone, reading the books I had stashed under my bed.

  “Then I came by to see you, and she wouldn’t let me come in,” Ally said. “She’d never done that before.”

  “You finally believed me,” I said.

  Ally nodded. “The next day at school we started making plans on how we were going to get you out of there. We were going to take my car to my brother’s place in Louisville. We’d finish our senior year there. I left that night to come and get you and I blew a tire and hit a mailbox. Do you remember Ms. Beverly? Talk about crappy luck.”

  A vague picture of an elementary school teacher came to mind.

  “She called the cops, my parents came, and I tried to explain everything to them, but they said I shouldn’t be getting involved in your problems. You should’ve heard the lecture they gave my brother. He still refuses to go home for Thanksgiving.”

  “I remember trying to call you a million times the next day. You didn’t answer. I thought you’d changed your mind,” I said.

  “No.” She shook her head. “My parents wouldn’t let me near the phone. I managed to sneak a call once, but your mother wouldn’t let me talk to you. Then I found out your mother spoke to mine at church. I didn’t hear from you and then you were dead,” Ally said. She was on the verge of sobbing. “Please tell me that you didn’t kill yourself because you thought—because I—”