4 Months Later
"Sam you're supposed to be in bed," chides a homely nurse named Peggy from the doorway. Her perfectly starched uniform compliments her equally straight face. No folds or wrinkles with any hint as to what her past must have been like. Her pen is poised just above her clipboard ready to jot down my disobedience.
"Sorry," I murmur slipping down from the window-seat. I stuff Go Ask Alice down the elastic waistband of my gray sweat pants hastily pulling the hem of my sweater over it top of the novel before I climb into bed. The corners of her mouth twitch once, her strict Alabama upbringing of a smile. With the flick of a switch followed by the banging metal door, I am enclosed in a tomb of darkness. Perfect. I count her familiar eighteen steps down the hallway, the squeak of her rubber soles predicting another late night at the ward. But tonight it's different. Ding! Ah, the elevator. She's going home to her new boyfriend I suspect.
I pull the novel from the seat of my pants stuffing it under my pillow. My fingers are completely soaked in a wet substance. My breath brakes in my chest as I suppress the will to scream. The last thing you want is a horde of white moths charging into your bedroom in the middle of the night. You'll be the Sunday morning gossip for at least a week. That's how pathetic it is here. My hand finds the twisting knob of the lamp. A brilliant flash banishes the darkness except for a few lingering shadows. Taking another deep breath I lift the pillow.
It's not blood. It's clear like spilt water. I sniff lightly just in case. No scent to label either. The telephone on the nightstand vibrates loudly on the cradle. I pick it up warily pressing the receiver to my ear.
"Hello?" I whisper quietly shutting the lamp off hoping not to get caught by a night aide.
"You're innocent," a deep voice strained with what sounds like a sore throat states into the device.
"Excuse me?" My voice squeaks unnaturally.
"Innocent." Click. Dial-tone. I stay on for a few more moments believing that the voice will appear again as if by magic.
"If you'd like to make a call please hang up and try again. If…".
I slam the phone back in its cradle rubbing my arms to annihilate the rising goose bumps. I hug the thick down comforter pretending it's him. Pretending that he's there with me. Pretending that we're the only two people in the world and that nothing can hurt us anymore. Then I change my mind. I pretend that I'm not here and he's holding me and nuzzling me. It's when I conceal my hand over my mouth so that my sobs aren't audible, only reaching a few decibels that God and a broken spirit can hear, I realize that I'm pretending. I'm playing Make Believe again.
000 000 000
"Sam someone's here to see you," chimes a young intern with glossy red hair and cheery green eyes. She looks over her shoulder waving the visitor in. A tall middle-aged man with a tough face and graying black hair strides through the doorway nodding at the intern without looking at her. His eyes are locked on me. I rest Go Ask Alice on my lap letting it lean against my stomach while I fold my hands like an eager student.
He extends his right hand grasping mine with a fierce shake before letting it drop as he twirls the chair backwards and lands abruptly making the table quiver. "Made a call to your room last night," He begins the intense focus never leaving his weathered face.
I nod uncertainly clasping both hands around my novel.
"Sorry if it sounded strange but I was in Aruba sniffing out a couple of drug lords during a thunder storm and the reception out there wasn't up to par. Anyway, I was getting tired of all that sunshine so I decided to come back to the States early especially for a big case like this".
"Case? What case?"
"Your case my dear. Oh don't tell me they're trying to brain wash you here," He whispers loudly tapping the table with his index finger. I shrug wondering what to say.
"I found out," He continues dipping his head low to catch my downcast gaze. He does. Our heads both lift as we stare at each other calmly letting the information in our eyes replay to one another.
"How?"
"The name's Roger Locklear of San Fernando California. I'm the big enchilada of the precinct heading Mr. Ames's case."
"Oh so you have ties with Nukpana. If you want to kill me then go right ahead. I don't care anymore".
"HA," He booms turning the heads of a couple of lingering nurses. "By the end of this trial you'll wish you were dead. But don't worry. We'll get 'em. We always do".
"How do I know you're not lying?" I say crossing my arms, "I've had my share of betrayers especially with your precinct."
"You still hung up over that Riley kid?" He leans forward in excitement causing the chair to screech against the tile.
"I don't know what to think. How did you--"
"A true mystery. Like father like son". He smiles, teeth a tad stained by over thirty years of black coffee and the occasional Marlboro. I can't help but think that they look nothing alike nor does his father possess the accent either. A true mystery indeed.