Mint On The Pillow
Part Six - Patient J
Ten days went by and the Centre had no hint of the Pretender's whereabouts. Broots was occupied, running phone traces and other such fruitless e-reconnaissance.
Angelo had been set to scanning newspapers for Jarod-worthy cases. In a dark, subterranean sim-lab, he sat on the floor surrounded by countless local and national papers, tabloid rags and respectable broad-sheets alike. One by one he picked them up, ruffled quickly through their pages and tossed them aside, not reading a word, but feeling every article to his core. Many of them bore just the kind of injustice that Jarod would be drawn to, but they didn't really concern Angelo. He was searching for another story.
The moment he touched The Minneapolis Independent, he was flooded with feelings. Flipping directly to the middle page, he traced his fingers over the headline: PROFESSOR IN HIT-AND-RUN HORROR.
"Jarod hurt..." he mumbled anxiously to himself.
The door clicked open and Mr. Raines' stepped in, dragging his oxygen tank behind him.
"Well, Angelo? Do you have any ideas where Jarod might be?" the doctor demanded in his raspy voice.
Angelo pushed one newspaper out towards Raines with a vacant expression... The Houston Times.
- - - - - - - - - -
Minneapolis General Hospital was a labyrinth of pain, Suzie decided, and said so to her colleague.
Trying to keep pace with her, striding down corridor after confusing corridor, Karl looked at her stormy expression, her black mood so obviously being cultivated by more than the traumatic events of the last week.
"I'm guessing you have some residual hospital-related issues to deal with."
She shot him a silencing glare which would have made anyone else drop the topic like a hot potato, but not Karl. He placed a hand on her shoulder, slowing her hurried pace to match his.
"Don't be like this, Suzie. We always knew there was more to Jarod than he let on."
They came to an intersection of corridors and headed right, to the ICU.
Suzie looked briefly down to the silver briefcase Karl carried. Jarod had brought it with him to every class, but never opened it.
"More, yeah, but I thought 'undercover cop' or 'ex-con-turned-shrink looking to redeem himself.' I wouldn't have pegged him as a genius-guinea-pig on the run. It's a bit of a stretch, y'know!"
"Sure, but remember what he taught us on day one? Don't see the profile, see the person. Everybody has a past, but it's our job to stop it from destroying their future."
"Good to know you were paying attention. Maybe you can take over the class."
They carried right on through the double-doors into Intensive Care, stopping outside the second room on the left. A nurse approached: Amanda, the friendly Caribbean woman who'd been such a comfort when Suzie first followed the gurney bearing Jarod's battered body into the hospital.
"Hello Suzie, Karl," she greeted them warmly, her eyes sympathetic, "There's been no change, I'm afraid. You can go on in, but turn your cell-phones off." The students nodded their thanks and entered the dim room.
"Hi, Professor," Karl said gently to the sleeping form on the bed. The soft beeping of the ECG machine was the only response as he pulled up a couple of typically uncomfortable chairs. He looked over his shoulder, puzzled to see Suzie still standing at the door.
"You're not gonna sit down?"
"What's the use? He can't hear us anyway."
Karl sighed. Far and away the most intuitive psychiatrist in his class, he could tell Suzie was being difficult to cover her deeper emotions; fear that Jarod would die, sorrow and anger at discovering the teacher she had a huge crush on was not all he appeared, and the trauma of finding him, bloodied and dying, in an alley beside the Majestic Hotel.
"How do you know? He is a special kinda guy." Really special, he thought, remembering last night, when, after days of wrestling with their consciences, they'd finally sat down to watch disc after disc of disturbing footage from Jarod's precious case. Professor J. Sydney was definitely not the man his students thought he was.
"Pretender." She almost spat the word out. "Why can't he pretend his way out of a coma, then?"
"For Christ's sake, Suzie! Why did you want to come visit him if you're just going to stand in the corner and bitch?"
She folded her arms in reply.
"Look, I know you're feeling all betrayed, yada yada, but if nothing else you could have some goddamn compassion! Whatever else he is, he's a great teacher, and a friend! I can't believe you're being so childish about this."
Karl held his breath and waited. If this was a professional case, he knew this kind of accusation would be absolutely out of line, but he had known Suzie for a long time. She only reacted to challenges.
Suzie stared hard at her friend, then at 'Professor' Jarod. She huffed out a long breath and let her arms drop, stepping over to the chair.
"You're right. Damn it, Karl, you're always right. I don't know the kid in those discs, I only know this Jarod." She took hold's of Jarod's hand and squeezed it, whispering an apology.
Karl sighed in relief. Suzie was a complicated girl.
"We, err, watched your discs, Jarod," Karl spoke softly, in truth not knowing if his words would be heard at all, but feeling the need to tell their friend the truth, "We know about The Centre and all that--"
"Pretty freaky, them keeping you locked up all your life!" Suzie interjected, then turned to Karl, "And I guess we know why he called himself Dr. Sydney... huh, I thought I had paternal issues!"
"Yeah, and to think that Parker woman who came snooping last week was once that sweet little girl--"
Their speculation was cut off by the sudden whine of the ECG going flat-line. Other alarms set off too, and Karl and Suzie leaped to their feet and out of the door, yelling for help.
A doctor raced down the corridor towards them, followed a little way behind by two nurses with a trolley of defibrillator equipment. As they barged into the room, Suzie tried to follow, but Amanda turned briefly back to their worried faces.
"You'll have to stay outside, kids. I'm sorry."
They peered in through the window as the professionals set to resuscitating Jarod. Somewhere in his chaotic mind, Karl thought of the little card which they had found in the briefcase...
"In the event of my death please contact Sydney at the following number..."
End of Part Six