At press time this is the latest completed chapter. I'm currently in the process of completing Chapter Three, so expect it soon.
Same disclaimer applies...still rated R for Rachel's potty mouth, as well as intense violence and sexual content in later chapters.
Chapter Two
Brookhaven Hospital
"Alright Detective Goren, he's ready to see you now." The white-clad nurse emerged from the reception office and approached Rachel, who waited on a bench near the entrance. Rachel was surprised at how nervous she felt. She did feel that way at times, especially when she was out of uniform. She could still look commanding dressed in all black, as she was now, but she had a feeling that a difficult situation in a place like this would have the potential to overwhelm even her. She rose to her feet and followed the nurse down the corridor. From the looks of things this area of the hospital did not house any patients; the doors were all plainly labelled: Pharmacy, Store Room, Visiting Room. Admittedly, she was surprised when they passed the visiting room.
"He refuses to leave the garden except for dinner and at night," the nurse explained as if she'd read her mind, and paused at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. "Oh, and Detective...I'll need to hold your gun for you."
"How did she know?" Rachel thought to herself as she reached for the Beretta 85FS concealed at her ankle-her off-duty weapon of choice. Upon closer inspection, she noted that it was more conspicuous than usual through the tight pants she had chosen to wear that day. She handed over the weapon to the nurse, who then punched in a set of numbers on a keypad beside the door. A buzzer indicated their passage to enter, and they proceeded into another corridor, this one lined on one side with heavy steel doors. Haggard faces peered from tiny square windows in the doors, their hollow eyes watching the women's' every move as they proceeded down the corridor. The occasional strange moan or howl emanating from the rooms made the journey to the end of the hall particularly surreal.
"I only hope you have better luck with him than we have," the nurse said as they continued through more double doors, then down another short corridor to yet another set of doors. "He refuses to talk most of the time."
"Well...I was always his favorite niece," Rachel said in passing as she proceeded through the doors. A mostly neglected garden filled with suffering plants, weeds, and shambling, muttering mental patients greeted her on the other side. At the far end of the open area, she spotted a familiar figure seated on a stone bench, staring intently at an overwatered herb garden.
"Uncle Leonard...?"
He had aged terribly in the past 15 years. He looked closer to sixty than the fifty he actually was; his once-strong features etched with worry lines and his light brown hair lightly peppered with dull iron gray. Loose-fitting white pajamas hung limply from his frail-looking frame. His eyes, however, were the same piercing blue, seeming to speak a language all their own. It was obvious that he recognized her, but at the same time those icy orbs looked right through her.
"Well well, if it isn't Rachel Lynne." The corners of his mouth turned up in one of his rare smiles. "How on earth did you get out of class today, dear?"
"Uncle Leonard, I'm 30. I don't think I need a tardy slip when I've been out of school for twelve years." She chuckled a little, but her smile faded when she noticed his blissfully vacant expression as he studied her.
"Ah, yes...how the time flies. Tell me dear...do you still want to be an astronaut? That's all you've talked about since you were six." He spoke in a voice eerily devoid of inflection, turning his back to her and began tugging at some weeds that flourished amongst the rapidly rotting plants.
"Actually, I'm a cop." She had the unsettling feeling that her words fell upon deaf ears, and it seemed she was right, as he had no comment. She kept talking. "Uncle Leonard...are you okay? I mean..."
"Whatever do you mean my dear? I'm perfectly fine, as you can see."
"I know. I'm talking about...you know, what happened this week."
Still he said nothing. He didn't even appear to be listening to her now, choosing instead to busy himself with the plants, one in particular; a white-blossomed herb that seemed to flourish in the boggy soil. Puzzled, she pressed on.
"Um...okay, a question. There was something that the nurses weren't 100 percent clear on," she continued, and took a deep breath. "When, and how, did you end up in here?"
In an unexpected move he raised his head to her, startling her. He chuckled almost creepily.
"You always did have a bad memory, Rachel," he said. "I've been here for years. You just never come to visit me. Now how do you think that makes me feel?"
"I..." Her jaw dropped. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was completely speechless.
"Not even your aunt Alexia comes to visit me anymore. I miss her so...I even write her letters. But she never replies."
Rachel let out an audible gasp. In her seven years as a cop, she had seen many a criminal land in this place, and they all invariably pulled some sort of mind-fuck technique with the police, milking their predicament for all it was worth. Her uncle would never do such a thing; he was honest to a fault. Already her brain was concocting a possible series of events that led to his incarceration here. Perhaps whoever killed her aunt wanted to dispose of him in a less predictible fashion, and shift suspicion to a more likely suspect in the process. Unfortunately, the only person who would be most likely to have answers was not terribly talkative.
"I remember the last time we spoke," Leonard continued. "You were all she could talk about, Rachel. She really wants to see you again."
Rachel could only nod and fight back tears, as well as a nagging twitch tugging at the corner of her eye that came with suppressing the knee-jerk urge to tell her uncle about the murder. He had always been calm and rational, yet she could sense he became more and more fragile every day he spent isolated here. She did not want to risk upsetting him and creating a scene. The staff probably saw their fair share of those throughout the course of the day.
"I'm sorry I haven't come back to visit, Uncle Leonard," she replied lamely. "A lot of...complicated stuff has happened. I didn't want you guys to worry about me."
He dropped what he was doing, turning to face her. His eyes met hers for a brief moment, and he reached out to take hold of her hand. His thumb roughly caressed a nasty scar that ran from between her thumb and forefinger to halfway up her forearm, an injury received in a scuffle with an armed suspect several years back.
"Promise me you'll take good care of her, Rachel. You're a cop, after all."
She sighed, swallowing back tears, but said nothing.
The awkward moment was interrupted when they were approached by a young nurse carrying a tray laden with pill bottles.
"Mr. Wolf, it's time for your medication." She did not acknowledge Rachel, save for a dirty look from out of the corner of her eye. Rachel couldn't help chuckling a little to herself, as she was reminded why she worked so much better with men. She maintained eye contact with her uncle even as a second nurse escorted her from the garden. His eyes continued to convey the same level of desperation and loneliness that had been evident in his words.
A few minutes later, she was sitting in the driver's seat of her old Cutlass, lighting a cigarette with one hand while the other clutched the steering wheel, despite the fact that she had yet to even turn on the engine. The back side of Brookhaven Hospital was visible from where she was in the parking lot, as was the high brick wall that enclosed the hospital's garden. The air of isolation and despair that permeated that place was still fresh in her mind. She was lost in thought on this when her ringing cell phone caught her attention.
"Hey Rach." It was almost comforting to hear Barry's voice. "How'd it go today?"
"Uh, well it...um..." Once again she was at a loss for words. "He's not really in a talking mood today. In fact, he acts like he doesn't even know that she...that my aunt is dead."
"Acts like? You mean you think he's faking it?"
"Who knows. They've got him all doped up on some shit. He's totally out of it. I need to get him out of here."
"Well I say go for it. Just try not to freak out the mental patients."
She laughed in spite of herself. "Got it. But in all seriousness, someone has to clear his name, since he can't do it himself. But there are still some things that I need to hear straight from his mouth. I just can't do it when he's like this. I don't know what to do."
"Well maybe you can go back and see him again tomorrow. Mental patients have good days and bad just like the rest of us. Maybe he'll be more cooperative then."
She sighed. "Maybe. But I really don't want to spend any more time in this place than I need to. It's creepy as hell."
"I could go with you. But only if you want to." His tone was so hopeful and optimistic that she didn't have the heart to turn him down.
"I guess, if you want to," she relented. "Just don't bother hitting on any nurses. From what I've seen of them they'd probably turn your groin to pudding. But knowing you you'd probably like that."
The following morning, Rachel found herself back at Brookhaven, this time with her over-caffeinated partner in tow. They sat in her car in the parking lot, indulging their respective vices before heading inside.
"Man, this place looks like a prison," Barry observed as he gulped coffee.
"You should see the inside," she sighed. "God, I just can't imagine what kind of sick fuck would want to land my uncle in a place like this."
"Let's find out," Barry said as he got out of the car. Rachel ground out the rest of her cigarette in the ashtray and reluctantly followed suit.
The two cops did not arouse suspicion when they entered the hospital, as their casual dress did not provide any hint as to their profession. Barry wore a plain white button-down shirt and jeans, while Rachel donned her usual black-on-black ensemble, albeit with a more casual touch than the one she wore yesterday; a plain t-shirt tucked into jeans that were just loose enough to conceal her trusty Beretta. She only hoped she wasn't recognized by any of the nurses she met the previous day.
"Hello there," a nurse greeted them, fortunately one that Rachel did not recognize. "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Goren. You're in luck today...we were able to get him to come inside. He's in the day room. Follow me."
"So now we're not only married, but I took your last name too?" Barry whispered as they followed the young woman down the corridor.
"Keep quiet or you're sleeping on the couch tonight," Rachel shot back as they were led to a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Beyond was a large room furnished with numerous long tables, where a handful of pajama-clad patients sat around playing board games and talking. Others milled about the room, while a small number of nurses and orderlies looked on. Rachel scanned the room until she spotted a familiar face at a table in the back.
"There he is," she said, pulling a suddenly reluctant Barry by the sleeve as they walked to where Leonard was sitting. He looked the same as the day before, dressed in worn and stained clothing and appearing completely engrossed in something other than the people surrounding him. Today it was a heated game of solitaire, which he pored over even as they stood beside him. Doubtfully Rachel addressed him.
"Uncle Leonard..."
Eventually the old man pried himself away from the card game long enough to cast a disdainful look in their direction. "Oh, it's you. What the hell do you want?"
Rachel was taken aback at the drastic change in his demeanor from yesterday, but she did not miss a beat. "Well, I was gonna ask if you were feeling any better today, but you just answered that question for me."
"Hmph." He hurriedly gathered the cards from the table, shuffling them quickly before dealing another game. "I was fine until you showed up, if you must know." He glanced in their direction again. "Who's that?"
"Oh...this is my partner Barry, Uncle Leonard."
"Partner...?"
"On the force."
"Mmm." He painstakingly placed the queen of hearts atop the king of clubs, then leaned back in his chair, anticipating his next move as if it were a high-stakes game of blackjack. "You mean you aren't fucking him too?"
"I...what?" Both detectives turned beet red at this unexpected statement, but only Rachel recovered. "Uncle Leonard, we work together. We're professionals."
Leonard scoffed at this. "Don't play dumb with me, Rachel Lynne. You know as well as I do that a man and a woman can't be 'just friends' or 'just co-workers'. There's always gotta be something more."
"That's not-"
"As a matter of fact, if I were a betting man I'd say you made detective by 'lying down on the job', if you get my drift."
"That's not true. Rachel would never do that." Barry was quick to come to her defense. Someone had to, as she was lost in thought. As hard as she had worked to put that memory behind her, she couldn't help being reminded of that time, and of her first boss. Capt. Tim Cavanaugh was not easy to win over; he all but expected her to fall flat on her face, as so many women had before her. But she defied all expectations and caught the eye of the discriminating captain...in more ways than one, it seemed. Everything changed that day, as they sat in his office and shared a drink after the shift. She expected it was just the whiskey talking when he kissed her, but that did not explain why she reciprocated the gesture. She was fully aware of what was happening, but it was still so surreal as they rabidly undressed each other and flung things from the desk in the heat of passion. She hated herself for liking it; the way he hungrily nipped at her neck, his hands exploring her body in earnest. And as soon as it started, it was over. She could still feel his eyes on her as she re-dressed. She never forgot his final words to her as he stood there in the corner, zipping up his pants: "Nice boots. Make sure you polish them up proper."
The very next day, she was promoted to detective.
"Of course she wouldn't. You have to say that now." Leonard's scathing tone stirred Rachel from her flashback. He then added, as if she wasn't even in the room, "I'll bet she's a screamer, isn't she?"
"I...I..." The middle-aged cop kept his eyes to the floor, his face a brilliant crimson.
"Don't listen to him, Barry," Rachel said, and turned to Leonard, grabbing him by the arm and trying desperately to maintain her composure. "Look Leonard, we're here to help. But my help isn't unconditional, so you need to ask yourself if you really want me to try to get you out of here."
"Get your filthy hands off me, you wretched little guttersnipe," Leonard snarled, shoving her away roughly. "And don't you condescend to me either. That's just like you, Rachel. You're the answer to a question no one asked."
The debacle soon drew the attention of the nurses on duty, and one of them rushed to the scene.
"Is there a problem here?"
"No, we were just..." Rachel started to explain, until she noticed the nurse was concerning herself more with Leonard, who was now sitting with his head on the table, buried in his arms. He refused to acknowledge her.
"Please stop...make them stop..." he whimpered.
"I think it's time for you folks to leave." The nurse promptly escorted them to the door. Rachel kept looking over her shoulder at Leonard even as she was being shoved out. His eyes met her, his stony gaze virtually unreadable even now. She was surprised-not to mention frightened-at the emotion roiling within her; pure, unadulterated rage. She was not supposed to think the things she was thinking, or feel the way she felt. He could not see her this way.
Within moments they were standing on the front steps of the hospital, both staring at the street as if they'd just seen a ghost.
"Well that went well, don't you think?" Barry said.
"Bite me." She stormed in the direction of the parking lot behind the building.
"Can I?"
She turned and gave him a look that typically froze the other men in the precinct in their tracks. Barry was no exception, but unlike the others, he always made an effort to find out what was bothering her.
"Hey..." He ran after her, struggling to keep up as they made tracks to her car. "We can talk about this if you need to. How about you let me take you to breakfast before we go into work?"
She considered. "Fine. But only because I'm hungry. I don't wanna talk..." She fumbled with her keys, and noticed something in the process; a plain white envelope tucked under her windshield wiper.
"Fuck...not this shit again." She grabbed it and opened the note tucked inside:
Dear Rachel,
I know that things don't seem to be working out right now, but you're on the right track. The key lies in the hospital.
"'The key lies in the hospital'?" Rachel read aloud. "What the hell...this person's fucking nuts."
"Yeah...they touched your car. That means you'll have to crack their skull open."
She sighed as she unlocked the door. "I still can't believe you can remember every damn word that comes out of my mouth, and yet you can't remember to zip up your pants before you come out of the bathroom."
