The Dark Hour

by Erin Lanter

  “Remember that you have several patients to see before the end of the day.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He took a few minutes to compose himself, then quickly ran through the patient schedule. His eyes stopped on the last one on the list: Tessa James. Another beautiful woman who’d hurtled him into a tailspin. If she’d kept her nose in her own business, none of this would have happened.

  Squelching his growing anger, he pushed back his chair and stood. With his back straight from renewed determination, he took a short glance in the small mirror on the wall and crossed the room to the door. With a deep breath he pulled it open and stepped from his office, determined to take care of the problem once and for all.

  Even if it cost him everything.

  84

  Sitting in the common room, Tessa couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. Three other patients circled the room, each one talking to what she assumed were the voices in their heads. On their own they weren’t making sense, but together they sounded like a chorus of insanity. A tear threatened to slip from the corner of her eye as she laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

  She was trapped here with the person she was certain had been behind the home invasions, the threatening email, and Camille’s attempted murder – not to mention the murder that started this whole mess. If she could somehow make it through two more days, she’d get to leave, either for jail or to go back to her normal life.

  But these people. For them, this was their normal life, and it pained Tessa to think about the bleakness of their futures. She’d seen it in Mama, but somehow this was different. Mama had her, and Tessa had done her best to keep her out of places like this. For the most part, she’d been successful.

  Who is watching out for these people? she wondered. Do they have families that are understanding and compassionate, doing their best to make sure their loved ones get the highest quality treatment they can afford? Or do they bury their skeletons away in securely locked closets, hiding them from the rest of the world?

  Another tear slipped from her eye. She wasn’t being fair. The families weren’t to blame. Tessa understood very well how difficult it was to live with someone who was sick enough to be in the hospital. Everybody was just trying to do their best with a terrible situation.

  At a sound behind her, she turned her head slightly to see Dr. Armistead leaning against the doorway of the common room. Slouching down in her chair so he wouldn’t see her, she pretended to be interested in the show on TV while still keeping a watchful eye on her doctor. The truth was, she didn’t care about the rerun of the only crime drama that seemed to occupy daytime television. A quick glance around the room told her no one else cared either.

  Except one person. Her psychiatrist was standing there, watching it with the same intensity of a student studying for a final exam.

  85

  Drew plopped into a chair in the waiting room while Meredith announced his presence to Dr. Raymond.

  Trying to ignore the annoyance in her voice, he wondered how upset Dr. Raymond would be that he’d left him at the hospital with no warning. He seems like a reasonable man, Drew thought. I’m sure he’ll understand why I had to go.

  Looking up at the sound of Dr. Raymond’s office door opening, Drew noted that he didn’t look upset. He breathed a sigh of relief. He needed this man’s help and couldn’t afford to upset him.

  Dr. Raymond escorted the client he’d been seeing to the door, gave him a few words of encouragement, then turned to Drew. “You look haggard,” he observed. He motioned for Drew to follow him into his office, where he bent over to retrieve a bottle of water from the mini fridge he kept under his desk and held it out to Drew.

  Accepting the water, Drew twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long drink, then massaged the lines in his forehead. He noted that the creases were deeper than they had been just this morning.

  “This whole thing is just so unfair. Tessa has spent her whole life thinking the worst about people, and now it seems like the entire human race is out to prove her right.”

  “Meaning?” Dr. Raymond settled into the wingback chair across from Drew and arched a thick eyebrow.

  Drew shrugged. “I went to the hospital to see her. When I was there, I saw Detective Jefferson in the parking lot. It looked like he was in a hurry, like something was wrong. I tried to catch up with him, but when I finally got into the hospital he was gone, and they wouldn’t let me visit Tessa. Said I had to come back at six o’clock if I wanted to see her.” Drew leaned forward and rubbed the stubble on his face. “I just have a bad feeling that she’s in trouble and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it.”

  The psychologist stood and crossed the room to his desk. He picked up the phone, and as he dialed, he turned to Drew and said, “I’ll check in on Tessa.” He waited as the phone rang, then said, “Yes. This is Dr. Harold Raymond. A client of mine is currently being treated there, and I believe it would be beneficial for me to come by and check on her.”

  Drew waited as Dr. Raymond listened. He found himself growing more impatient with each passing moment.

  “Wonderful!” Dr. Raymond said. “I’m on my way.” He replaced the receiver and turned to Drew. “Coming?”

  Springing to his feet, Drew crossed the room in a few long strides and walked out of the office as Dr. Raymond held the door for him. He stopped and looked into the older man’s eyes. “Thanks for helping me.”

  Dr. Raymond shook his head. “I’m not doing it for you. When I agree to take on a new client, I’m making a commitment to do everything I can to ensure he or she gets the best possible treatment. If my recommendation to have her held at the hospital instead of jail could place her at an increased risk, it’s my responsibility to make it right.”

  “Tessa made the right decision when she started coming to see you,” Drew said. This man was truly going above and beyond what would normally be expected of him.

  A flush of pink crept up Dr. Raymond’s neck. “Thank you.”

  Drew swallowed the lump in his throat and followed Dr. Raymond to the parking lot, surprised that a man of his age and stature could move so fast.

  “You follow me in your car,” he called to Drew as he veered to the right and stopped at a black Mercedes. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby to make sure they let you in.”

  Drew nodded and quickly climbed into his own car, encouraged that, with Dr. Raymond’s help, Tessa might have a fighting chance.

  Dr. Raymond peeled out of the parking lot with Drew on his tail. For the next twenty minutes, Drew struggled to keep up with the aging psychologist, who was weaving in and out of rush hour traffic, handling his luxury sedan as if he were in the Daytona 500.

  Relieved to finally be sitting still in the hospital parking lot, Drew took only a moment to regain his composure after the high-octane drive across town.

  Apparently, Dr. Raymond needed no time – he was soon sprinting up the steps in front of the hospital. Drew followed suit and dashed across the parking lot to catch him, silently praying that they could stop the situation from getting worse.

  86

  At five o’clock med pass, Tessa stood with the rest of the patients in line, waiting for the nurse to hand them their medication. When she was at the front of the line, she accepted a small cup that looked like something you’d put ketchup in at a fast-food joint, brought it to her lips, then tossed her head back. Quickly using her tongue to stuff the pill deep into her cheek, she took a drink of water from the cup the nurse offered, careful not to let the water touch the pill.

  She left the medication room and walked quickly to the bathroom, where she spit the semi-dissolved pill into the toilet. The bitter residue clung to her tongue. Tessa flushed the pill, took a big drink from the sink faucet, and swished. Another drink helped erase the aftertaste completely.

  Dinner would be served in a half hour. With most of the effects from her morning dose worn off, Tessa looked forward to eating. Her breakfast had been a meager bow
l of fruit cocktail and a small container of orange juice. Lunch consisted of a ham sandwich with a pickle spear and French fries that looked like they’d been sitting under a heat lamp for days.

  She hadn’t even touched it.

  Settling into the common room with most of the other patients, she again pretended to be interested in what was on TV. Her stomach growled. That’s a good sign, she thought.

  As she waited, two male nursing assistants walked up to her. “Tessa, please come with us,” one said in a gruff, baritone voice.

  Her mouth suddenly dry, she looked from one unsmiling face to the other, back and forth, searching them for some clue about what was going on. “Where are you taking me?” she asked. Two large men coming to take her away was a page torn right out of Mama’s worst nightmare.

  “Ma’am,” the other one said, “don’t make this any harder on yourself than it has to be.”

  “Make what any harder? What’s going on?” Tessa demanded, willing her voice to remain steady. The last thing she wanted to do in this place was act hysterical – that would be a one-way ticket to the restraint bed.

  Her question was met with hard stares. “Stand up and come with us,” the one with the deeper voice ordered.

  Not wanting to “make things harder” on herself, whatever that meant, she stood. One man on each side of her, they escorted her to a room on a part of the unit she’d never been. The room was stark white with no windows and held nothing but a stained mattress.

  “Inside,” they ordered.

  “What? Why?” Tessa pleaded as she was propelled a few steps forward into the bleak room. “Why are you doing this?” But deep down, she knew why. She was a threat to a monster, and she had to be stopped.

  With a loud thump, they pulled the heavy metal door closed behind her. She heard keys rattle. The lock clicked.

  She was trapped.

  Only the light from the back hall streaming through a small window at the top of the door provided evidence of life outside her isolation. She saw nothing, heard nothing. She was completely alone.

  The solitude she’d so desperately wanted when she arrived now came in the form of painted white cinder block walls, a hard tile floor, and a mattress stained by the countless others who’d come before her, finding themselves in this very room, trapped and alone.

  87

  Drew and Dr. Raymond skipped the elevator and opted to take the stairs up to 3B, where Tessa was being held. Taking them two at a time, they flew up three flights of stairs and, winded but determined to catch her psychiatrist before he left, and arrived at his office door just as he was gathering his things to go home.

  They’d made it. Barely.

  Startled by their sudden presence, Dr. Armistead said, “Harold, what are you doing here?”

  Drew grasped the door frame to steady himself. “You? You’re Tessa’s psychiatrist? What have you done to her?”

  Dr. Raymond leaned against the wall and sucked huge gulps of air into his exhausted lungs. He sputtered, “We…need…to…talk.”

  Erasing the surprise from his face, Dr. Armistead turned his attention away from the sudden presence of his newly hired financial adviser and focused on his colleague.

  “What’s the matter?” Dr. Armistead asked as he set his briefcase back on the floor next to his desk.

  Drew, recovering more quickly from their sprint up the stairs, demanded, “What have you done to Tessa?”

  “Tessa?” Dr. Armistead asked, tapping his chin with his index finger. “If you’re talking about Ms. James, she’s on the unit.” Looking back and forth between Drew and Dr. Raymond, Dr. Armistead said, “Why? What’s going on?”

  “We know what you’ve done,” Drew accused.

  Dr. Raymond held up a hand to cut him off. “Tessa James has been a witness to a crime, and we believe she could be in danger. It’s imperative that I speak to her immediately.”

  Dr. Armistead lowered himself into his chair, then offered the two chairs in front of his desk to Drew and Dr. Raymond. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to see her until visiting hours begin at six. Until then, I suggest you take a few laps around the building to cool off,” the psychiatrist suggested.

  He’s stalling. Why? Drew wondered frantically. Has he already done something to her?

  “Let me see her,” Drew demanded through clenched teeth. “I want to see with my own eyes that she’s okay.”

  “I don’t believe Ms. James is in any danger. I saw her just a little while ago,” Dr. Armistead protested.

  “Tessa saw you! We know what you did!”

  “Excuse me? She saw me doing what?” he asked innocently, but the expression on Dr. Armistead’s face and the visible constriction of his throat told Drew he knew exactly what Tessa had seen him doing.

  88

  As much as Tessa hated unfamiliar sounds, anything other than the eerie silence would have been welcome. On cue, she heard keys rattle outside the door. Light from the hall filled the room as the door swung open.

  Tessa took several cautious steps toward the door, then, realizing who had unlocked it, said, “What was that all about?”

  Ann motioned for her to hurry. “Somebody claimed they saw you cheeking your meds. They also said you were becoming confrontational and thought you might get violent.”

  “I’m not violent,” Tessa protested. “I was minding my own business when two Hulks came to throw me in here,” she said, waving toward the room behind her.

  Ann shrugged. “I don’t know, but someone ordered that you be put in seclusion.” Her eyes scanned the hall. “I don’t think you’re safe here.” She pointed toward the door at the end of the hall under a glowing red exit sign. “I’m going to open that door. Follow the stairs all the way down. When you get there, you’ll be on the bottom floor where we have recovery classes. There are plenty of places to hide but be quick. Nobody knows you’re not on the unit. My shift is over in an hour, so sit tight and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “What if I get caught?” Tessa worried aloud. “I don’t want to make things worse than they already are.”

  “You won’t get caught,” Ann assured her. “Nobody has a reason to be down there at this time of day.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “What other choice do you have?” Ann’s eyes darkened at the urgency of the situation.

  Tessa hesitated. She hated feeling trapped. This must be what Mama felt like all the time, just waiting for the danger lurking in the darkness to come out and destroy her, Tessa thought.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” she said, finally. Ann was right. She had no other choice.

  Ann smiled. “Good. Now hurry,” She looked over her shoulder and opened the door just wide enough for Tessa to slip through.

  As the heavy door snapped shut behind her, she knew she was locked out.

  Feet flying down the stairs, Tessa moved quickly through the dimly lit stairwell and opened the door at the very bottom. Ann was right. The entire floor appeared to be abandoned. She tried one door after another, then panicked as she realized they were all locked.

  At the far end of the hall, she came to a room with an “Out of order” sign hanging on the door. Whispering a fervent prayer, she twisted the knob.

  The door creaked softly as it opened, but in the quiet shadows it might as well have been gunfire. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, standing completely still until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The room contained several potter’s wheels, and a large kiln stood in the corner.

  An hour in this pitch black would stretch on forever, Tessa mused, but it sure beats being stuck behind locked doors with a killer.

  Crouching behind the potter’s wheel in the farthest corner of the room, she breathed easier knowing somebody would really have to be looking for her to find her there, and the only person who even knew she was down there was Ann.

  Ann.

  In the darkness, something pricked Tessa’s memory. Who would have seen me cheek my meds? There
was no one else in the bathroom. It’s not possible that anyone could have seen me.

  Tessa’s heart hammered in her chest. Ann was the one who had suggested cheeking her meds, and Ann was the one who’d said someone saw her.

  Could Ann be the one responsible for this?

  What do I do now?

  As the minutes passed, Tessa noticed a strange odor that became impossible to ignore. It was faint, but it smelled like roadkill. Knees popping as she straightened from a squat, she walked slowly across the room, following the smell until she was standing in front of the kiln.

  She took a deep breath, then regretted it. The stench assaulted her. She grasped the handle of the kiln and pulled, the hinges groaning in protest.

  Tessa released the handle and covered her mouth and nose with one hand. Using her other to feel her way around the room, she groped the wall for a light switch, flipped it on, and squinted against the sudden brightness.

  She turned and took several steps toward the kiln. There, contorted and stuffed into the small space was the disfigured body of a young woman with dark hair, a bullet hole in the side of her head.

  89

  Al Jefferson’s feet felt like lead as he puffed his way up the steps.

  Had something happened to Tessa James?

  There was no question she was in danger, and he felt like a fool for having allowed her to be locked up here. He hadn’t realized the man she’d accused of murder worked here.

  How had he not known?

  The answer was easy. He hadn’t cared enough to check.

  Still short of breath when he reached unit 3B, he gulped a few more lungfuls of air then banged loudly on the locked steel door.

  A man wearing scrubs unlocked it, and Detective Jefferson flashed his badge. “I need to see Tessa James. Now.”

  “Sure thing. Wait right here, sir,” said the man whose name badge read “Dave,” then he walked off in the direction of the common room. He then crossed back in front of the nurse’s station and walked down another long hall, holding up one finger to indicate it would only take a minute.