Lockdown

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  The way they’d talked about kids had given her so much to think about, enough to keep her mind off of the “what ifs.” Somewhere over the past few days she had stopped dreading the time when Tristan would leave and had started planning for a future that included him. Marriage hadn’t been mentioned, but Riley expected that their current road together was headed in that direction. The prospect both thrilled and terrified her.

  “Evening, ladies.” Chief Jobeson’s voice interrupted her wandering thoughts. “Any chance I can meet with the rest of your team today?”

  “They should be back any time now,” Amy said, glancing up at the ceiling. “It’s been quiet up there for a while.”

  Suddenly a rush of whoops erupted down the hall, followed by approaching footsteps. A moment later Kel stepped inside with a huge grin on his face, followed by Tristan and Seth.

  “What’s going on?” Amy asked.

  “These guys are good.” Tristan’s eyes danced with excitement. “They actually caught the sleeper before anyone got hit.”

  “They learned a huge lesson in teamwork yesterday. It definitely paid off,” Seth added.

  Kel extended a hand to the police chief. “What brings you by today? Have you found anything new?”

  “Actually, yes. We got the ballistics report back today. The bullets that killed Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes came from the gun Eric Rhodes had in his possession yesterday. The time of death was estimated at 6 am, so Eric definitely would have been home. It looks like he’s our killer.”

  “Who did the gun belong to?”

  “We’re not sure. The serial number had been filed off, and no one in the Rhodes family is on record as owning a gun.”

  “Have you been able to get anything out of him?” Tristan asked.

  The chief shook his head. “The kid’s practically catatonic. Of course, that’s not surprising with all of the medication they have him on. I swear he doesn’t even understand the questions.”

  “How long until he’ll be well enough to come off the meds?” Kel asked.

  “It’s hard to say. According to Eric’s psychiatrist, I’m not sure he will ever be completely off medication. Dr. Walberg keeps talking all of this psychological mumbo jumbo that’s way over my head, but the bottom line is that he’s keeping the kid medicated to keep him from going into another psychotic episode.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but is that really a good idea?” Riley asked now. She had been quietly listening, but suddenly something didn’t feel right.

  “What?”

  “Dr. Walberg had prior contact with this boy. I would think from an investigative point of view you wouldn’t want anyone dealing with him who could confuse his memories,” Riley pointed out. “Wouldn’t it be a lot more productive to bring in someone new to do a complete diagnosis?”

  “Actually, I thought so too, but Dr. Walberg made a pretty convincing argument that in order to do that, they would have to take him off of all medication, and that might be detrimental to the kid’s mental health.” Chief Jobeson shook his head.

  “And keeping him so medicated that he’s catatonic is good for him?” Tristan asked sarcastically.

  “Part of the problem is figuring out who has guardianship right now. We haven’t found the parents’ wills, so I expect he will be named a ward of the state.” The chief turned to look at Tristan. “You’re the one who said you didn’t think he killed his parents. If that’s true, how did he get the gun?”

  “I don’t know.” Tristan frowned. “But we were seriously trying to convince him that his dad was dead. His teacher said that when the kid first walked in the door and saw that his dad wasn’t there, he was totally shocked. I don’t know how it’s possible, but I really don’t think he knew about it.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” the chief admitted. “It sounds like I’m going to have to block Dr. Walberg from the kid and take the chance that he’ll be able to remember what happened. Hopefully someone will be able to get something out of him.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Riley said. The room suddenly grew silent.

  “What?” Tristan asked as everyone looked at Riley in surprise.

  “From what everyone has said, it sounds like this kid was being abused by his father. He is more likely to connect with a woman,” Riley told them. “Maybe if I have the teacher who was in the classroom introduce me, he’ll open up.”

  “Riley, do you really want to deal with this? I’m sure they can find a woman psychologist in the area who can treat him.”

  “I know, but I got my master’s in criminal psychology to help me understand why people do things like this. I may be the perfect person to help this kid, and this may be an opportunity for me to really face my fears at the same time.”

  “That actually isn’t a bad idea.” The chief ran his thumb and finger over a day’s worth of stubble. “I could have Riley and Mrs. Cunningham meet with Eric at the hospital. I’d still have to bring in a licensed psychologist to oversee Eric’s treatment, but he might open up more to visitors than to a shrink.”

  Tristan interjected. “I don’t know about this.” Doubt filled his voice.

  “I already have a guard posted outside the boy’s room. We’ll make sure he can’t hurt anyone,” Chief Jobeson assured him. He glanced at his watch and moved toward the door. “I’m going to go talk to Eric’s attending physician and see if we can have him pulled off of his medication.”

  Riley nodded. “Let me know when you think he’s ready to talk.”

  The chief nodded. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  As soon as Jobeson left, Tristan took Riley’s hand. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Riley looked at him, confused by the tension in his voice.

  “Are you done for the day?”

  “Pretty much. Let me just shut everything down.”

  Tristan waited impatiently while she turned off her computer and collected her purse and keys. He followed her out of the office and took her arm as they walked down the hall and out into the hot, muggy air.

  Riley didn’t say anything until they were halfway to the parking lot. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want you talking to that kid.”

  Riley stopped walking and turned to face him. “Why not?”

  “There’s no need for you to get involved. Let the locals handle it.”

  “Tristan, I might be able to help.”

  “You already did help,” he insisted. “You helped us develop this class. Your insight helped us predict how those students would react when we burst into that room and evacuated them. Now it’s time to leave it to the police. This kid could be dangerous.”

  “I thought you were convinced he didn’t kill his parents.”

  “I am, but that doesn’t mean I want to risk your safety by having you go talk to him.”

  “I see.” Riley folded her arms and nodded slowly. An ache started in her chest and spread slowly outward. “You expect me to sit around waiting while you go off and risk your life, but when I want to do something that might be a little bit risky, that’s not okay.”

  His tone changed instantly from demanding to pleading. “Riley, please.”

  “No.” She shook her head, her voice passionate. “Don’t you understand? I want to do this for me. Sure, I hope I can help figure out what really happened, but I need to know what pushed him to act the way he did. It might help me find closure with what happened here at Oswell.”

  Tristan’s voice sharpened once more. “You may never find the kind of closure you’re looking for.”

  “That’s true,” she said, suddenly weary. “But I thought you understood me well enough to know that I have to keep trying.” She started walking again.

  “Riley, I’m sorry.” He stepped in front of her and gripped her arms. “I’m worried about you. Yesterday was so hard on you, and I hate to see you hurting.”

  Her dark eyes lifted to meet his, and she let out a little sigh. “After what happened here, I spent a lot
of time trying to figure out why. Why did that guy snap? Why did it have to be at my school, in my classroom? I’ve never really found any answers.”

  Tristan’s hands slid down her arms, and his fingers linked with hers.

  She gave his hand a squeeze and continued. “I could find peace sometimes, and I got answers to what I was supposed to do next, but today, for the first time, I feel like some good can come out of that tragedy.” She continued to stare up at him. “Yesterday was just the beginning. You helped save dozens, if not hundreds, of kids from Eric Rhodes. I need to know if there’s any way Eric Rhodes can still be saved.”

  “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  “At least promise you’ll be careful,” Tristan said, his voice resigned.

  She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I promise.”

  25

  Everything was falling into place. The mental hospital Philip had chosen was willing to take Eric as a patient, and the director of the hospital was accepting Philip’s diagnosis and treatment plan. Just a few more days and everything would be perfect. He walked down the hospital corridor to Eric’s room and nodded at the police officer guarding the door. His eyes narrowed when the policeman moved to the center of the doorway and blocked his path.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there.”

  “What do you mean I can’t go in?” Philip demanded. “He’s my patient.”

  “Not anymore, sir,” the officer stated in an official tone. “Since his parents are dead, he is currently a ward of the state. A court-appointed psychologist will be taking over his case.”

  “He needs a psychiatrist, not a psychologist.” Philip felt his control slipping and tried to clamp down on the last of it. “Psychologists can’t prescribe the medication he needs to treat his illness.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. You’ll have to bring that up with the attending physician.”

  “Can I at least talk to him?” Philip relaxed his shoulders and tried to take a more passive approach. “I’m the only person he has opened up to so far. I might be able to help find the answers to your questions.”

  Again the officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no one enters his room without the police chief’s permission.” The officer’s eyes strayed down the hall. “There he is now, if you want to talk to him.”

  Philip turned to see Chief Jobeson heading toward them.

  “Dr. Walberg, I’m sorry I didn’t catch you before you came down here,” Chief Jobeson called out to him. “I tried calling you yesterday afternoon, but you had already left your office for the day.”

  Philip put on his best professional air and turned toward the older man. “I would appreciate an explanation. My patient is understandably vulnerable. I don’t think you realize how detrimental a change in treatment could be right now.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but Dr. Gera will be taking over his care,” Chief Jobeson told him apologetically. “Since Eric’s mental health will undoubtedly play a part in his legal defense, we have to rely on someone who the judge will consider completely impartial. Your prior relationship with the boy eliminates you from that role.”

  “I am trained to remain impartial,” Philip insisted. Seeing that the chief had already made his decision, Philip started grasping at straws. He considered his attempt to talk to Eric the day before. “My testimony could be crucial regarding his mental health. I was on my way to the high school to warn Eric’s counselor of my concerns when the incident was going on.”

  “I wasn’t aware that you were at the high school yesterday.”

  “One of your officers stopped me. Riley Palmetta was there too,” Philip pressed, remembering the numerous sessions he had spent with the young woman. “I worked with her after the Oswell tragedy, so she has known me for some time. Perhaps she can convince you that I have a significant amount of experience in treating patients after traumatic events.”

  Clearly a little flustered, the chief replied, “I’m sorry, but Miss Palmetta is the one who suggested Eric be put under the care of a new doctor.” He shook his head apologetically. “Your prior relationship with the boy could confuse him.”

  A new sense of panic fluttered in Philip’s chest, but he clamped down on it and clung to a calm exterior. “I disagree.” His voice was mild, and he shook his head as though scolding a small child. “If you change your mind, let me know. My primary concern is for my patient.”

  “I appreciate your understanding.”

  With a sigh, Philip forced himself to nod and move down the hall. Waves of panic rolled over him, his uncertainty cresting with unexpected force. Why would Riley Palmetta try to keep him from seeing Eric? Did she suspect something? And if so, why?

  He made his way out to the parking lot as he came to a new realization. If the boy talked, it would be the word of a confused boy against the word of a distinguished professional with an apparently spotless reputation. After Eric’s actions at the high school, his trustworthiness would be questionable at best. Then again, if Riley Palmetta started casting suspicions, her credibility could result in a deeper investigation into Philip’s background.

  A red haze closed in on Philip’s vision as he shoved his car key into the ignition. He couldn’t let the boy talk, and somehow he had to find out just how much Riley Palmetta knew. One way or another, he was going to bury the evidence against him for good.

  * * *

  Philip’s palms were sweating when he made his way past the security guard and inside the brightly lit room. He hadn’t planned on coming back. He had promised himself that he would stay away once it was over. After all, he had done his part. His debt was paid, and he was starting off fresh. If only everything had gone according to plan.

  He had sat at home mulling over the countless possibilities until he could stand it no longer. Then he had gotten in his car and ended up where he always did when everything wasn’t going perfectly. Tonight his visit served a dual purpose. Just maybe he could find out how much the police knew about Eric and what—or rather who—had pushed him to the edge.

  The sound of the roulette table mixed with the sounds of rolling dice and shuffling cards. A mixture of cheers and moans mingled together as lady luck gifted some and robbed others. The Friday night poker games were well underway, and nearly all the seats in the room were occupied. Philip recognized the various faces, but he stayed by the door until he caught the attention of one particular man.

  The man’s pale blue eyes landed on Philip, but he continued his conversation as though he had nothing better to do. A few minutes passed before the man gave a subtle nod toward his office and then headed there himself. He walked through the heavy wooden door, leaving it open for Philip to follow.

  By the time Philip walked inside, the man was already seated behind his desk. He waved his hand in the direction of the door. “Close it.”

  “You have to help me.” Philip winced inwardly as he heard the desperation in his own voice. “The boy is going to figure it out and assume I killed his parents.”

  “Sounds like you have a problem.”

  Philip rubbed his hands together nervously. “I think the cops suspect something. Have you heard anything?”

  The man shook his head. “The ballistics report matches. The kid clearly shot the gun. Case closed.”

  “What about Riley Palmetta?”

  A dark eyebrow lifted. “Who?”

  “You know. The one working with those Navy SEALs. Eric has been taken out of my care, and Palmetta is the reason.” Philip fought against the hysteria bubbling up inside him, but his voice was still shaky. “I don’t know how, but she suspects something.”

  The voice was cold, heartless. “If you had prepared the boy properly, there would be no witnesses.”

  “How was I supposed to know he would act the way he did?” Philip voice rose a notch, and he rubbed his sweaty palms against his slacks. “He was ready. I don’t know what made him deviate
from the plan.”

  “It’s up to you to take care of these problems. If the boy talks, he can only point a finger at you.” The man paused for a minute as he fiddled with a stack of poker chips on his desk. “Perhaps I will help you out though. If you take care of the boy, I think I may be able to help you out with this Palmetta person. In fact, it will be my pleasure to relieve you of that worry.”

  Philip sighed and nodded nervously. “Okay.”

  “Here.” He stood up and pushed the stack of chips closer to Philip. “A little bonus for such a good customer.”

  Philip estimated the chips to be worth five thousand dollars and felt his palms dampen once more.

  “Now, why don’t you forget about all of this for tonight? Go enjoy my hospitality, and we can take care of these problems tomorrow.”

  Philip only wavered for a second. Then he stood, collected his chips, and headed for the bright lights and shuffling cards.

  26

  On Friday afternoon, Riley walked alongside Chief Jobeson through the hospital corridor leading to a cluster of offices. Tristan had wanted to come with her, but Kel and Chief Jobeson had both offered convincing arguments as to why he should stay behind. Kel had needed him to help finish up with the current course, and Chief Jobeson worried that Tristan’s presence might intimidate young Eric Rhodes.

  Aware of Tristan’s concerns, the chief had met Riley at the hospital entrance and promised to stay nearby, though out of sight, while she met Eric for the first time. Before going to the boy’s hospital room, they stepped into the conference room, and the chief introduced Riley to the three people inside. Mrs. Cunningham, Eric’s former teacher, was sitting quietly at the conference table. Her warm brown eyes showed her concern and lingering nerves, but she managed a smile as she nodded a greeting to Riley.