Death Watch

by Elizabeth Forrest

  Scarlet streaked her bedsheets. It dripped down the walls. Then she saw the white teddy bear on the pillows, gutted, its stuffing strewn everywhere, laced with crimson. An ice pick pinned it to her sheets. What might have been a heart or a liver quivered about its shaft.

  “Oh, my God.” Her voice leaked thinly from her throat.

  The bloody streaks led to the mirror above the small console at the room’s end where someone had written, in tall, gory letters: BITCH.

  McKenzie backed up, feeling her legs start to give out from under her. Someone had been there. Could still be there. The privacy curtains rippled as though someone waited behind them. She could feel a cold draft as if the window had been forced open. McKenzie clawed herself along the wall back to the exit.

  She turned to run, lifted her hands to the door, saw her fingers glistening with the stuff. It runneled down her skin, wet and still warm.

  McKenzie shrieked.

  Shadow grew solid beyond the curtains. Her mouth gaped, throat empty of further sound, as a hand reached around and gripped the fabric edge, pulling it back.

  Jack stepped out.

  Her heart hammered. He smiled thinly. “Is that any way to greet me, honey?”

  Her jaw worked, found words. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why, because we’re married. You’re mine, little bit. And,” and the thin smile stretched widely. “As the saying goes, if I can’t have you, no one else can, either. I’ll make sure of that.”

  He took a step forward, the narrow hospital bed the only obstacle between them. McKenzie felt her eyes flutter. The room went suddenly atilt. Everything felt as though it were sliding away. Her voice was the one weapon she had left.

  “Nooo!” she screamed.

  Jack pivoted and charged the windows. He dove headfirst out the open frame.

  Chapter 12

  Jack fell farther than he thought he would, thudding onto the fourth floor veranda. The hit nearly took his breath away. He rolled and got to his feet quickly. Adrenaline pumped. He looked back overhead, still hearing the echoes of McKenzie’s terror. Damn, it felt good. Jack hugged it to himself to enjoy later and ran the length of the veranda until he reached the fire escapes at the building’s end cap and swung down to the third floor. From there, he returned to the private waiting room window, pulled himself in through the lower vent, and straightened up. Imagining the activity in the vandalized room several floors above, he tucked his shirt back into place and sauntered down the hallway, took the elevator, and was down.

  Jack brushed his hand through his hair as he neared the brace of security guards in the hospital lobby. Lookin’ for baby stealers, he thought. He was no baby stealer. He attracted no more attention than a casual glance. Their demeanor was bored, and their faces were pinched slightly as if their feet hurt. They haven’t heard the news yet. Won’t there be some excitement when they do. They ought to pay me for keeping them from being bored to death. Jack smiled at them as he walked by.

  The bulge in his jeans’ hip pocket began to ring as he exited the lobby doors. He put a hand to the cellular phone, removing it once he was outside and flipping it open. The parking lot smelled of asphalt, dirt, and smog. His nose wrinkled as he leaned a hip against the fender of his rental car and answered the phone, eyes watching the lobby doors to see if there were any activity.

  “This is Jack.”

  The line was relatively clear, but he could hear the faint crackling of a long-distance transmission. Someone was trying to reach him in Seattle. He’d done well to have his calls forwarded. The corner of Jack’s mouth drew back even as the caller responded, “Is this Jack Trebolt?”

  “You’re talking to him.”

  “Mr. Trebolt, this is Officer Moreno of the Los Angeles Police Department.”

  “El Lay, you said?” Jack gave a short laugh. “I know I put the hammer down between home and Des Moines, but I know I didn’t hit L.A. What’s up, Officer?”

  “Actually, this is about your wife, McKenzie Smith. You are married to a McKenzie Smith?”

  “Mac? Damn right. Is she okay? She isn’t in trouble, is she? She bolted out of here about three, four days ago, like a scalded cat. I called all her friends, but she’d just taken off. She’s not down in L.A., is she?”

  The caller cleared his throat. “Actually, Mr. Trebolt, I’d like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”

  A sparrow went by, chirping and singing. Jack watched it before answering, “No, that’s fine. You’ve got me at a good time. I’m just sitting here at a rest stop waiting for my lunch to hunker down.”

  “And you said you were outside Des Moines?”

  “That’s right. You’ve caught me on my roam phone. I carry a cellular in case Mac needs to reach me. I can get calls damn near cross the country. She gets skittish at home alone.” He paused, then added, “If she’s in trouble, any kind at all, you tell me and I’ll fly right over. Just treat her gently, okay? She gets upset easy. I can’t figure out what the hell she’d be doin’ in L.A., though.”

  “It appears she left you.”

  Jack kept his voice smooth. “Officer, she thinks about leaving every time she gets PMS. Hormonus humungous amongus, y’know? I give her as much love and care as I can, but, man, her whole world just goes tilt. I’m glad I’m on the road then, know what I mean?”

  “Are you telling me she has an unstable personality?”

  “I’m telling you the little lady is like a rubber band. She snaps at least once a month. I can’t blame her, though. Bad childhood. Father was an alcoholic. She just gets skittish, y’know? Insecure. I wish I could be more help, but it takes time.”

  “Does she take medication?”

  “Naw. The doc wanted to give her Valium, but she won’t touch it. She’s always dieting, says it’s supposed to help. I can’t see the difference.” Jack fished a little. “You didn’t tell me if she was in trouble.”

  “A little,” Officer Moreno admitted. His voice grew fainter, as though he had shifted the receiver away. “Nothing we can’t handle. I’ll let you know when we’ve done a little more investigating, let you know how the case stands.”

  “Case?”

  “I really can’t go into details at this time, Mr. Trebolt. I’d like to thank you for your cooperation. Can I reach you on this number later?”

  “It’ll be kind of patchy once I leave here, but I should be near a transmitter tomorrow sometime. Then you’ve got a clear channel all the way to Boston. Ah, Officer, will you be seeing Mac later?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you ... would you ask her what happened to the dog? Don’t upset her or anything, but I couldn’t find Cody when I got home. Just his dog blanket out in the trash. It was all crusty with what looked like dried blood. I’d hate to think—well, I’d hate to think she’d really done something awful before she left.”

  “Do you think your wife is capable of something like that?”

  Jack said earnestly, “Officer, Mac is an incredible woman. She can do anything she puts her mind to. But it’s the mind I’m worried about. Look, I don’t know what happened to make her bail. Maybe Cody got out, got hit by a car—she loved that pup. Purely loved him.”

  “I see. Well, thank you, Mr. Trebolt. I’ll be in touch as soon as I can tell you something definite.”

  The phone line went dead. Jack took the cell phone down and folded it back up. It was warm in his hands. The little light warning of low charge flickered at him. The police had only intended to tell him what they wanted him to know. Well, he knew all. And by the time he was through spinning his little tale about Mac, he had had Officer Moreno thoroughly convinced. His lips skinned back from his teeth. The bitch, his beautiful bitch, looked as though she’d seen a ghost. Both times. He could read her like a book. He knew she’d bail after he taught the dog a lesson. Jack rubbed a finger into the corner of his eye. It was still gummy after the red-eye flight. But he was there, and he had her. He had the plans, he had the brains. “I got you
, babe,” he informed the phone. “Gotcha.”

  Still grinning, he climbed into the car and pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

  She thought her heart had stopped. Then it sputtered. McKenzie put a hand to her chest, feeling its cold thump. She could not look and pinched her eyes shut. Don’t react. Stay calm, quiet. Attract no attention, no predator, no hunter. It couldn’t have been Jack. And if it was, he couldn’t have survived the fall. Could he?

  The door opened suddenly, spilling McKenzie onto the floor. She landed sprawled across the feet of a figure in ivory and sand, a woman who looked down at her with piercing blue eyes.

  “What is going on here?”

  Before McKenzie could say anything, the woman stepped back abruptly, disentangling herself from Mac’s bloody form. She looked back over her shoulder. “Nurse! I need a nurse in here!”

  Then she looked back down at McKenzie, her lips pursed. As if she’d made a decision, she bent down slightly. “Don’t move. You’re the concussion client, aren’t you? There’s blood all over you. Are you hurt?”

  “No.” Barely audible. She could scarcely hear herself, but this brisk woman who wore her doctor’s jacket like it was part of a designer suit heard her.

  “Good. Don’t move. I don’t have my gloves on. If you didn’t do this—” the blonde head cast about, before looking back down on her. “This could be contaminated. It’s best you don’t do anything. You’re all scraped up, you don’t need any of this worked in. Understand?”

  Nearly frozen, still in shock, Mac nodded. Her lower lip began to quiver. “Jack,” she said. “Out the window. He can’t be alive.”

  “Someone was in here?” The woman eyed the open window sharply. “Are you certain?”

  “He can’t be alive,” Mac repeated numbly.

  The doctor began to pat her jacket pockets as if searching for something. Her name tag bounced on her left breast: Dr. Susan Craig. CyberImago. She pulled out a tissue, took a step toward the bed. She probed at what had been pinned to the gutted bear. “Afterbirth,” she said. “Fairly fresh.” She let out her breath. “Possibly not contaminated, after all. Somebody’s been into the medical waste.”

  Running footsteps interrupted the doctor. Shannon halted in the doorway. “Good lord.”

  “We need to get her cleaned up and out of here as soon as possible.” Susan Craig turned back to the gory teddy bear.

  Shannon looked down at McKenzie in amazement. Cold authority rang in her voice. “What on earth did you have in mind?”

  “I didn’t—” McKenzie put out her hand beseechingly, then pulled it back when she saw the blood covering her fingers. She kept her other hand gripped tightly. She looked up to the wall, where her palm print dotted the streaks. “Oh, God. You don’t believe me.” Her voice rose tightly.

  Susan Craig looked down at her, before locking eyes with the nurse. “Is this the one who snapped last night?”

  “Yes.”

  Her jawline softened. Still out of clear range of McKenzie, she bent down. “It happens,” she said gently. “That’s what we’re here for.” Directed at Shannon again, “She’s going to be put in my wing, isn’t she?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Good. I came in to set her up for retesting. The program run this morning came back glitched. Miller called me.” Dr. Craig gave a satisfied nod. “This will all work out.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” McKenzie begged of both women. “Why won’t you believe me? Just look out the window. He—his body—it has to be there!”

  Craig straightened and edged past Shannon. “There’s a ledge of balconies down there. They run the length of the floor. I doubt if the fall would kill anyone. If anyone had been here to jump. But, then, someone had to do this, didn’t they? The world is full of depravity.” She checked her watch. “I’ll see you again after breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Shannon said tightly, “while I clean up. I’m putting you in the nurses’ lounge. Nobody will bother you there. Then I’m calling Security. After which, I’m getting a mop.” She pulled Mac to her feet and put her on the foot of the bed which was relatively clean. “Can you sit up?”

  Feeling dizzy and disoriented, McKenzie opened her eyes. “He was here.” The words forced themselves from her throat. “He was here!” This was hell, and she was trapped in it.

  Shannon repeated in a firmer, but slightly warmer voice, “McKenzie. Can you sit up? I’ve got to get a disinfectant wash for you. I don’t want you falling off and hitting your head again.”

  “I can sit,” Mac said wearily. Her shoulders slumped as Shannon left in a white blur. She was back almost before Mac could even realize she’d gone, hands filled with a basin and a squeeze bottle.

  She watched dispassionately as Shannon sponge-bathed her again. Blood. Ironic, she thought, that anyone who works in a hospital should be so afraid of blood. Ironic and terrible.

  She inched out of her gown, and pulled on clean clothing while Shannon left again for a wheelchair.

  As she sat and Shannon wheeled her around, Mac said, “I didn’t. Honest to God, I didn’t do this.”

  “Well, whoever did it is going to be sorry,” the nurse responded. “We’ll get Security here in a jiffy. That bear was just delivered for you. I brought it in and found you missing. I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Shannon.”

  The nurse looked down as McKenzie twisted around. “Did Officer Moreno talk to you?”

  The other’s mouth got very small and tight.

  “Call him, too. Tell him what happened. He didn’t—he doesn’t believe me that my husband’s here, that my husband did this.”

  “It’s not my business—”

  “Look what he’s doing to me! To my father. No one believes me.” McKenzie put her hand on the other’s wrist. “Please.”

  Shannon shoved open a door, and guided the wheelchair into a small, but efficient lounge, with a woodgrain plastic table and four chairs. The kitchenette was tidy, but clothes hung helter-skelter in the open closet, shoes scattered below them. There were street clothes and freshly laundered uniforms, and even a pair of panty hose dangling from a hanger.

  One beat-up recliner in the corner held an occupant, her feet up, reading PEOPLE magazine. She dropped the periodical to her lap, looking slightly put out. She was young and Latino, her dark hair an ebony cloud under her starched cap.

  “Company, Shannon?”

  “Someone just did a number on her room. Keep an eye on her while I call Security, will you?”

  The recliner foot went down with a bang. “Of course I will.”

  “McKenzie, this is Nita. I’ll be back in a while.” The hard look on her face promised nothing before she went out the door.

  They eyed each other. Nita pulled a lipstick case from her pocket and outlined her wide, generous mouth with another layer of coral. She got up and went to the small refrigerator in the corner. Popping out a carton of apple juice, she found a straw and with a push and a twist, made the drink ready. She put it in McKenzie’s hands.

  “You look like you could use a drink,” she said, and smiled widely.

  “Thanks.” As McKenzie lifted the carton to sip, her hand shook slightly. The juice went down icily, tasting only marginally of apples, but good nonetheless. It seemed to etch a path down her dry and paralyzed throat.

  Nita wore a white pantsuit. She hiked up a leg and perched on the edge of the dinette table. “What’s the problem?”

  “Someone decorated my room.”

  “Well, don’t you worry. Shannon will have Security all over his ass, and if he comes back, she’ll probably put her mop handle up it.”

  McKenzie found her lips curling about the straw as she bent her head to take another drink.

  Nita leaned back a little, folding her arms over her ample bosom. “Yes, indeed, Mount Mercy nurses are better than guard dogs.” She raised a penciled brow. “And prettier, too.”

  “Definitely,” McKenzie conc
eded. Sitting in the lounge talking with Nita, she almost felt human.

  “This the same someone as took some pretty good shots at you? You came in last night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you were the one. Punched out our best resident.”

  “‘I’m so sorry,” McKenzie got out.

  “Don’t worry. He got a free beer for it when his shift went off this morning. Our residents live for the tales they swap. Now he gets to tell a better one than the doc who was held up two weeks ago.” Nita swung her leg. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so good with your fists. Make the policia wonder, eh?”