Wrong Turn

by Catie Rhodes

  I breathed in, gathering my focus, and called down a bolt of lightning. It hit a stack of papers at the corner of her desk. Both Fitch and Winslow let out screams. A wisp of smoke trailed from the papers. Intent on me, Fitch didn’t notice. The papers began to belch smoke. A flame licked around them.

  Winslow shot forward, his huge feet pounding the floor. He grabbed a file and slapped at the papers. Suzanne Fitch recovered faster than most would have. She grabbed her own file. She and Kevin beat out the fire before it got big enough to set off the smoke alarm.

  "Kevin, please open the door to let the smoke out." Her voice came out a little breathless, but her face stayed calm and in charge. Kevin did as she asked and stood in the doorway as though daring anybody to ask what was going on.

  Suzanne Fitch moved her jaw as though chewing on her words. "Fine. You’ve some sort of psychokenesis. Why did you use it to get in here to see Josie Stephens?"

  I’d hidden what I was all my life because I feared ending back up in a place like this. Coming clean with someone in charge of keeping mentally ill people under lock and key scared me. But I had a few questions of my own to ask Suzanne Fitch, and she was, by God, going to answer.

  I took a deep breath. "Josie Stephens might have knowledge of a book I need to find. And when I say need, I am talking life and death."

  Suzanne stared across the desk at me but didn’t call me a liar.

  Planning how I could make Suzanne Fitch stroke out if things went sour, I took out the now battered picture of Loretta Nell Grimes holding the book and set it on Fitch’s desk. She picked it up and studied it, mouth thinning into a hard straight line. She slid the picture back across the desk and leaned back in her chair, making it groan. Before she could speak, the walkie-talkie on her desk came to life.

  "Nurse Fitch?" A new voice twanged over the speaker. "Sam Adamick here. Got the other ’un."

  My heart stuttered as icy fear coated it. They had Tanner. He wouldn’t be riding to my rescue. Worse, they might hurt him. Anger melted my fear in a quick flash.

  Fitch keyed the walkie and spoke. "Bring him up."

  "Nurse Fitch?" I sat very still, anger pumping hard now, and waited for her to acknowledge me. She did with a flick of her eyes. I spoke slowly, my East Texas brogue worse than usual. "If you hurt my man, I’ll kill you, Winslow, and this Adamick. But you’ll be first. I’ll make your eyeballs pop right outta your head."

  She flinched and paled. Winslow moved out of the doorway. A massive guy dragged Tanner into Fitch’s office. Tanner took one look at me, eyes widening, and spun to face the guy I assumed was Sam Adamick.

  "You said if I came with you, she wouldn’t be harmed." Tanner hands hung by his sides, not fisted yet, but I knew the tone of voice. He wasn’t far from violence.

  Adamick shrugged. Tanner doubled up one fist and let it go, his whole body twisting with its delivery. His feet came off the ground when the punch hit. Adamick, who might have been fit twenty-five years and a hundred pounds ago, staggered backward, holding his jaw.

  Tanner jerked away from Adamick, grabbed my arm, and yanked me out of the chair. Kevin launched himself at Tanner.

  “Stop it, all of you,” I yelled. The energy building in me swirled another harsh wind into the room. Another bolt of lightning cracked onto Suzanne Fitch’s desk. She screamed.

  Winslow and Adamick froze. Tanner edged me closer to the door. I pressed myself hard against his side. He gripped me with one arm, protecting, but also drawing strength. We needed each other.

  Stop being scared to love him. The voice didn’t even sound like mine. It sounded suspiciously like Priscilla Herrera.

  Winslow stepped in our way. “Nope. You ain’t going nowhere.”

  I turned back to Fitch. “What do you want from us?”

  “You’re trespassing on state property. I’m supposed to involve police.” She leaned away from the smoking papers on her desk.

  “But you’re not going to.” Otherwise the police would have been waiting for me in Fitch’s office.

  Fitch shook her head. “Josie Stephens is a problem patient. Weird things happen around her. She gets out of locked rooms, out of restraints. She hurts staff members.”

  I shrugged. Nurse Fitch probably wouldn’t believe how Josie was doing it if I told her.

  “I don’t care how she’s doing it.” Fitch seemed to read my mind. “I care about running a safe hospital.”

  “We’re not killing Josie for you.” Tanner spoke up from beside me.

  I glanced at Fitch, expecting to see horror but only saw irritation.

  “Neither of you look very upstanding. If I call the authorities into this, what other kind of trouble will you be in?” She leveled her gaze on me like someone used to getting her way.

  If I had been a drinker, this would have been where I said, “Hold my beer.”

  Instead, I drew on the mantle in silent concentration, pulling it to the point of painfulness, and aimed it at Suzanne Fitch. I imagine fire ants and red wasps crawling over her body and stinging. All at once.

  She let out a shrill cry. “Winslow! Adamick!”

  I turned my attention to the two big men. Winslow took one look at my face and took off running. Must not have been that great of a job after all. Adamick reached for me. Tanner slammed a fist into his flabby midsection, but I concentrated on his eyes. I imagined them burning. Adamick clapped his hands over his face and staggered out of the doorway.

  I turned back to Fitch’s desk. Her eyes widened, the fear bright behind them, but she kept her face placid. I admired that.

  “Now that we’re alone, you’re going to tell me why you looked like somebody rubbed sandpaper over your asshole when Josie started talking about the last survivor.” Far as I could tell, this last survivor was the only clue I’d be getting from this whole shit show.

  Fitch took a shaking breath, licking her lips at the same time. "Please. Both of you, sit."

  Tanner and I glanced at each other, each silently asking the other what to do. I sat first. He followed.

  I found my voice. "Tell me about the last survivor, or I’m going to fuck this place up so bad that you’ll never be able to explain it away."

  Beside me, Tanner chuckled.

  Fitch closed her eyes and let out a sigh. When she opened them again, they held a sad resignation.

  "A very dear friend of mine was Josie’s therapist.” Fitch turned around the picture whose glass I’d broken.

  In it, a younger and more carefree Suzanne Fitch embraced an attractive woman. The two laughed at the camera, hanging on to each other the way Tanner and I did. Fitch pressed her lips together, eyes sad.

  “Josie talked to Colleen at length about the book and the last survivor." Fitch continued staring at the picture.

  “Bring her in. Let us speak to her.” Excitement built in my chest. This could really go somewhere.

  "Colleen no longer works for the hospital, or anywhere. She was traumatized by her experience with Josie. She sees very few people." Fitch said no more, but her fierce expression said it all. She’d protect this woman with everything she had.

  I admired Suzanne Fitch. We had a lot of the same traits. For that reason, I hated myself for what I needed to do.

  “Ms. Fitch, if you don’t put me in touch with Colleen, I’m going to report you to whatever board governs this hospital. Your poor security allowed me to get in, and then you allowed your flunkies to assault my boyfriend and me.” I swallowed hard, cringing inside. I sounded imperious—and like a pussy—even to my own ears. “You will lose this job faster than a cat whips a dog’s ass.”

  For the first time, Fitch didn’t have a response at the ready. She searched my face, probably looking for a crack of weakness she could wedge her way into and talk me out of my threats. I stared steadily back.

  Her face hardened. “Get out while I make a phone call.”

  I stood. “Fuck with me, and I’ll make you wish your daddy liked condoms. Hear me?”

  She
flinched at my vulgarity but gave me a slight nod. Tanner and I stepped outside the room.

  “That was mean,” he whispered.

  My face heated. It wasn’t just mean. It was ruthless, just like Priscilla Herrera. I rubbed at my stomach. My ancestor still scared me silly. But the more things I survived, the more I understood her.

  We all made wrong turns. Sometimes it just couldn’t be helped. Getting turned around and headed back in the right direction took whatever it took. The world Priscilla and I lived in was dog eat dog. A woman either had to show her inner steel to the world or be buried beneath it.

  Minutes crept past. I expected to hear police sirens any second. But the door finally opened, and Fitch came out holding a slip of paper.

  “She’s expecting you.” She held the paper just out of my reach. “Now you listen to me. If you traumatize my loved one further, all the magic in the world won’t save you.”

  “Understood.” I snatched it out of her hand.

  Tanner and I walked out of the hospital and into the blistering sun. It took my breath away and burned my skin. Heat baked through the soles of my boots to warm my feet uncomfortably. It fit the shame I felt for the way I’d treated Fitch, even though being the bigger bully had been the only way.

  I could only hope Colleen was worth the effort. If she wasn’t, I didn’t know where I’d turn next.

  The short walk to the truck made my knee throb. By the time we reached it, I gripped my thigh and practically hopped.

  Tanner had to lift me into the truck. "You need to see a doctor."

  I shook my head. Mohawk’s clock never stopped ticking. A hospital emergency room or doctor’s office would cost me too many hours.

  "We can find a drugstore on the way to see Colleen Pellingham." I tapped the address into my phone’s map to get directions. A robotic voice began telling Tanner how to get back to the main road.

  He sat fingering the steering wheel and doing nothing to start the truck.

  "Why aren’t we moving?" I gave him a pat on the arm.

  "I keep wondering who this last survivor could be. The website said every one of those cops and their families were dead. Josie is the only surviving descendant of any of those cops." He put one hand over his mouth and ran it over his stubble beard.

  "Only one way to find out." I buckled my seatbelt to let Tanner know I was ready to go.

  Tanner stuck the keys in the ignition and started the truck. He reached over and put one hand on my leg. "You know I’ll drive you across hell if you need me to. And I’ll take you to see this Colleen Pellingham. But what if it’s a trap?"

  I put my hand over his. "I have to try. Not finding Mohawk’s book is the end for me anyway."

  Tanner’s head rocked back as though I’d slapped him. He pulled his hand away and began driving. My phone’s navigational system sent us through unfamiliar streets. Tanner stopped at a drugstore and bought me a bottle of over-the-counter pain pills and some analgesic cream. I swallowed a handful of pills and pulled my pants down to rub the cream on my knee while he drove.

  When our electronic navigator told us to make a right and the destination would be on the left, Tanner pulled to the curb, shut off the engine, and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. He unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted to face me.

  "We need to talk. You’re talking like you die if you don’t find the book. What am I missing?" His eyes, always intense, carried a hurt deeper than I’d seen in a long time.

  "I’m not going with him." I pulled out my cigarettes, lit one, and offered the pack to Tanner.

  He lit his with shaking hands. "What does that mean?"

  I let out a breath it felt like I’d been holding since I left Sanctuary. "Hannah loaned me a pistol. It won’t kill Mohawk, but it will kill me."

  Tanner’s whole body jerked. He dropped his cigarette in his lap. I snatched it and brushed off his jeans. His mouth worked, but nothing came out. He shook his head repeatedly. I crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.

  "You’ve got to understand…I can’t. I can’t go with him. I can’t let him do what he wants to do to me." The idea of being forced to have a child sired by Mohawk made me want to barf in my mouth, so I pushed it away.

  "But even if you have to let him take you, there’s still a chance you can get away." He grabbed my hand and held it tight. "If you’re dead…there’ll never be anything else." He let go of me and twisted away, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

  "I can’t live like that." I reached to touch his back, but he flinched away from me.

  Then he turned around and glared at me through wet eyes. "But if you’re alive, there’s always a chance. Don’t I mean enough for you to be willing to try?"

  He did. But what kind of life would I have if Mohawk took me as a slave? Made me birth a monstrosity made of both of us? Before I could formulate an answer, Tanner grabbed me and pulled me to him.

  "I can’t do it again," he whispered over and over.

  It didn’t take telepathy to know he was talking about losing his family—a wife and two daughters—in one ugly swoop. But I couldn’t make promises, not on such an unsteady future.

  I held him tight, aching with guilt over making him feel this way, and stroked his hair. "Let’s just take it a little at a time, see how things go."

  These weren’t new words. I said them to Tanner every time he talked about what we’d be doing over Christmas, where we’d be next spring. I said the words, smiled at him, and hoped for the best. I didn’t know what else to do.

  Stop living like a ghost in your own life. I jerked to attention. Where had that come from?

  Tanner drew in a deep shuddering breath and raised his shirt to wipe his eyes. I stared at the scars on his chest, injuries he’d gotten in the wreck that killed his wife and two daughters.

  Almost to himself, he said, "It’s gonna be okay."

  He started the truck again and drove to Colleen Pellingham’s house, hunched over the wheel as though he was driving me to my death right then. I loved this man, hated that I was making him hurt, but didn’t know how to change it.

  Colleen lived on a pristine white concrete street of identical row houses made of light-colored brick. They all had brown shutters and brown garage doors. Colleen’s unit was discernible only by the number next to the fancy porch light.

  Tanner pulled to the curb and cut the engine but made no move to get out. I unbuckled my seatbelt.

  "Wait," he said, gaze still focused on the street.

  I did as he asked.

  Tanner turned to me. His eyes had dried as we drove, but the red rings around them attested to his emotional state. "I’ll meet you all the way. Whatever happens, I’ll be right there. That’s my promise.”

  My heart froze, then pounded hard. I gulped back a rush of stupid words. Anything I said would cheapen Tanner’s selfless pronouncement. I’d had to kiss a lot of toads to find him, but he was worth the wait.

  Finally, I thought of something to say. "And I'll defend you to my dying breath."

  "Let's hope you don't have to." He held his fist out, and we bumped.

  Tanner deserved so much better than me. He got out of the truck and waited on the sidewalk. I joined him and took his hand. We marched to the front door. It opened a crack as we approached, and a wide dark eye peered out.

  "Peri Jean Mace?" The voice quavered. Fitch had indicated Josie hurt Colleen Pellingham so badly that she no longer practiced as a therapist anywhere. Colleen had seemed so vivacious in the picture Fitch showed us. I dreaded seeing what Josie had done to that laughing, happy woman.

  "I’m Peri Jean." I stepped around Tanner so Colleen could see a fellow woman.

  "Your ID, please?" Colleen held one thin, trembling hand through the crack in the door.

  I dug it out and handed it to her. A second later, the door opened. I saw Colleen’s entire face for the first time and had to hold in my gasp of shock.

  A livid red scar bisected her face. The jagged split had gone over on
e of her eyes, and I was willing to bet the eye in the socket was a prosthetic. Colleen stared at Tanner, taking in his scuffed work boots and his faded blue jeans.

  "This is Tanner Letts. He’s my…boyfriend." I took his hand again. It felt funny calling a nearly forty-year-old man a boyfriend. But lover sounded worse.

  Tanner’s lips quirked in a smile, and he gave my hand a little squeeze.

  Colleen motioned us into a dim living room. The mini blinds were closed, and heavy dark drapes covered them. The only light came from a lamp sitting on a sofa table. On the table was a picture of Colleen and Suzanne Fitch locked in an embrace in front of a Christmas tree. I recognized this room in the background.

  Colleen motioned us to sit on a burgundy love seat. She sat in a matching recliner and reached down beside it. A weapon. This woman was probably as scared of us as we were her.

  "Suzy said you’d had a run-in with Josie Stephens." She swallowed hard.

  Hearing the formidable Nurse Fitch being called a curlicue name like Suzy almost made me smile. But I held it back. I let go of Tanner’s hand and leaned forward, making contact with Colleen’s one functional eye. "Josie attacked me. Held me down on the floor. If Nurse Fitch hadn't found us when she did, I'm not sure what would have happened."

  Colleen took a trembling breath and nodded. "Suzy called again after you left her office. She said you had a picture of Josie's book."

  I took it out and passed it to Colleen. She positioned the lamp to shine on it and stared hard at it, face going pale. Her breathing quickened. "Suzy and I both thought maybe the book was part of Josie’s psychosis."

  "It’s real, and I need to find it." I held out my hand for the picture, and Colleen passed it back. "Nurse Fitch also said you were aware of a last survivor. Josie carried on about this last survivor when she attacked me. She said the last survivor was key. I'm looking for any information you have about either."

  Colleen’s breathing quickened, and she began to twist the fabric of her slacks between her fingers. "You understand that Josie thinks she's Loretta Nell sometimes?"