The Dark Hour

by Erin Lanter

  His impatience growing, Al watched as Dave walked back toward the nurse’s station, circled around it, and quietly spoke to a female nurse. She walked to the women’s bathroom and stuck her head in. She called Tessa’s name, then shook her head in Dave’s direction when there was no response.

  Detective Jefferson saw the female nurse shrug as Dave whispered to her, “Another one is missing?”

  An even stronger sense of urgency crept its way up the detective’s throat. His gut told him he was too late. Something had already happened to Tessa.

  “What’s going on?” the detective demanded, not sure he wanted confirmation of what he already suspected.

  “I don’t exactly know,” Dave said nervously. “We can’t seem to find Ms. James.”

  “What do you mean you can’t find her? The unit is locked, isn’t it? How many places could she be?” Detective Jefferson growled.

  Dave turned to face him. “We’ll check a few more rooms, but it looks as though Tessa has gone missing.”

  The words hit Al with the force of an eighteen-wheeler.

  Missing? How could she just go missing? And what had Dave meant by “another one?”

  “When was the last time anyone saw her?” he demanded, shifting into full interrogation mode.

  “Let me gather the staff, and we’ll compare notes,” Dave offered. “She’s got to be around here somewhere. You can’t get off the unit without a key.”

  “Then someone with a key must have let her off,” Al muttered.

  Several minutes later, the staff was gathered around the nurse’s station, each recounting the last time they’d seen Tessa James. “I just came on duty a little bit ago. I haven’t seen her yet,” someone said.

  “Me either,” voiced another.

  Finally, a large man who looked to be in his early twenties joined the group. “I put Tessa in seclusion a couple hours ago. When I went to let her out an hour later, she wasn’t there. Ann told me Dr. Armistead let her out.”

  Detective Jefferson’s eyes darted around. “Ann? Where is Ann?”

  “Her shift was over an hour ago. She’s probably on her way home,” one of the nursing assistants volunteered.

  “Let’s fan out and check the whole unit. If we don’t find Tessa, we’ll have to search the rest of the hospital,” Dave said.

  The nursing staff took off in opposite directions. Soon after, the sound of slamming doors echoed throughout the unit. As he watched the scrubs-clad staff scurry in every direction, Al considered the likely scenario. He had no doubt there were probably dozens of patients in the hospital with histories of violence. Any one of them could have done something to Tessa, but none of them were as dangerous as the man who’d taken an oath to do no harm.

  Fifteen minutes later, the staff gathered again, each shaking their heads. Their mouths formed tight lines across their faces.

  “This woman wouldn’t just disappear,” the detective said. He looked at Dave. “You said ‘another one’ is missing. What does that mean?”

  Dave cleared his throat and began. “We’ve had a few patients go missing lately. It’s weird. That almost never happens.”

  “We need to find her. Pronto,” Detective Jefferson demanded.

  Pointing to the two biggest men in the group, Dave said, “You two stay with the patients. The rest of us will look for her off the unit. Detective Jefferson, you come with me.”

  He followed Dave down the back hall, past the seclusion room. “We’ll go out this door and search the stairwells and bottom floor where recovery classes are held. It’s empty now, and there are a lot of places to hide.”

  They walked carefully and quietly down the stairs, eyes scanning each dark corner for any sign of Tessa.

  When they reached the door at the bottom of the last flight of stairs, Dave pushed it open and held his finger to his lips “If she’s down here, we don’t want to scare her,” he whispered.

  “She’s already scared,” Al muttered, regret heavy in his words.

  Slowly, they made their way down the main corridor, checking behind each door. One by one, they ruled out each classroom as her hiding place.

  With a sinking feeling, Al’s nearly infallible instinct told him that every moment Tessa remained missing, the lower the likelihood of finding her alive.

  90

  Tessa switched the light off and crouched back into the corner, a new scenario forming in her mind.

  Ann was the one who’d told her to cheek her meds. Ann was the one who’d let her out of seclusion and encouraged her to run. It was Ann who’d told her to come down here to hide.

  But why was every door other than this one locked? Had somebody taken away her ability to choose her hiding place? Did someone intentionally trap her in this room with a rotting corpse only feet away?

  Heart hammering in her chest, Tessa rose to her feet again. She had to escape.

  A sound outside the door made her pause and shrink back down. The doorknob turned, the light switched on, and the sound of the deadbolt being snapped shut echoed around the room. Footsteps clicked across the floor, then stopped nearby.

  “I’m glad I found you,” a voice said.

  Tessa peered around the potter’s wheel and looked into the face of the man who had set this nightmare into motion. Warning bells rang in her head. You have to get away!

  “You’ve made things very difficult for me lately,” he said in a chiding voice, addressing her as though she were a child who’d misbehaved. “I’ve had to deal with a detective snooping around, asking all kinds of questions. Not to mention all the time and energy I’ve spent tracking you down. You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” He took another step forward and placed his hand in his pocket. “It didn’t have to be this way, you know. If you’d just heeded my warnings, you would have had a long life ahead of you, and that pretty little thing your ex-husband was dating wouldn’t be fighting for her life right now.” He tilted his head in mock sympathy. “When I’m finished with you, I will make sure she loses that fight. This is all your fault.”

  A chill raced through her. He was going to try again to kill Camille. And for what? Because she just happened to show up at my house?

  Mind reeling, Tessa began to pull the pieces together. He’d found her, then lured Camille to her house, only to shoot her? What was the point in that? Tessa wondered.

  Keep him talking, her brain urged. He wants you to know what he’s done.

  “I wouldn’t ever intend to cause trouble for you,” she said, forcing her voice to sound calm. “But that woman needed me.”

  Dr. Armistead grunted. “Margo? She didn’t need anybody. She made that perfectly clear. If you hadn’t been sticking your nose where it didn’t belong, nobody would have missed her.”

  “Everybody needs somebody. She must have just been confused. Sometimes we want to be able to make it on our own. We convince ourselves we don’t need anybody, but that’s not true,” Tessa continued, the irony of her words striking her own heart.

  “I loved her,” the doctor protested. “I loved her, and she pushed me away. I couldn’t let her get away with that.”

  “It must have been difficult for you to have your love thrown back in your face. That wasn’t fair to you.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” he agreed. “It also wasn’t fair of you to keep after the police to harass me. I’m a good person; I have helped so many sick people. You’re trying to take all that away.”

  “I’m sure you have been very helpful to your patients. It’s not right to hurt people, though,” Tessa said gently.

  The psychiatrist snorted, obviously disgusted with Tessa’s assessment of his actions. “You’re just like your mother. She tried to make things hard for me, too.” He smirked. “We know how that worked out or her.”

  Tessa’s mouth went dry. She tried to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat. “My mother?”

  “She was a feisty one. Just like you. Also like you, she suspected I didn’t have my patients’ best
interest at heart.”

  “You knew my mother,” Tessa said, the words sounding like they were coming from someone else.

  He nodded and slowly pulled his hand from his pocket, a long syringe clutched in his palm. “She wanted to get better. She wanted a better life, so she came to see me.” His mouth drooped in a mocking frown. “Too bad it didn’t work out the way she’d hoped.”

  “I saw you,” Tessa murmured. “You’re the one I saw running through her backyard.”

  “Lucky for me, nobody believed you. You even doubted yourself. I’m guessing you even began to wonder if you were turning into dear old mother.”

  Fresh hatred for this man rose in her chest. Mama had been trying to get better, was getting help, and this monster had taken away her chance.

  Tessa rose on wobbly legs. “Why? Why did you have to kill my mom? What could she have possibly done to deserve being murdered?”

  Jacob Armistead shifted the syringe in his hand and pulled the plastic cap off the needle. “I don’t want to talk anymore. I think I’ve been more than generous by letting you know what happened to your dearly departed mother before you die.”

  Slipping the cap back into his pocket, he shifted his thumb to the plunger and took one last step toward Tessa, stopping mere inches from her. He raised the syringe and narrowed his eyes. “Looks like you’re going to end up like her after all.”

  91

  Detective Isaac Dunn made record time getting back to the hospital. He’d only been at the station a few minutes when Al had called to let him know Tessa was missing.

  Now, after a quick stop by the hospital receptionist’s desk for directions, his shoes were thudding on the hard tile floor. At the far end of the corridor on the lowest level of the hospital, a group was gathered outside a door as a man in scrubs fumbled with his keys.

  “Hurry up!” Al demanded.

  Finally, the man inserted his keys into the lock and pushed the door open. Dr. Jacob Armistead’s back was to them, a long syringe in his hand. His thumb was on the plunger, ready to strike.

  Isaac moved ahead of the group and lunged forward, in tandem with Al, throwing their bodies on top of the doctor’s. The sound of air whooshing out of Jacob Armistead’s lungs filled the room as the trio tumbled to the floor. The syringe clattered onto the floor next to them.

  Wiggling an arm free from Detective Dunn’s grip, the psychiatrist grabbed the syringe, held it high, and plunged it into his own neck. His face distorted in a mask of rage, he screeched, “I am the master of my destiny, and you won’t take me to jail!” With that, his neck relaxed and his head dropped to the side. His body convulsed, then went still.

  His eyes wide and staring, a maniacal smile frozen on his face, Dr. Jacob Armistead would finally keep his oath to do no harm.

  92

  Tessa rose on unsteady legs from where she’d fallen in her attempt to get away from the detectives tackling her would-be killer. She brushed herself off with shaky hands, and croaked, “Detectives?”

  They turned away from Jacob Armistead’s lifeless body to face her.

  “The woman I saw him carrying is over there,” she said, pointing toward the kiln.

  Detective Jefferson nodded and walked toward it, opened the door, and shuddered. The stench of rotting corpse filled the room. He pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in the numbers of the police station. “We need the crime scene techs to get down here right away. We’ve a couple of bodies here.”

  Disconnecting the call, the detective looked back toward Tessa. “I’ll need you to come to the station to answer some questions about what happened here tonight.”

  Tessa nodded and sighed. “It sounds better than being in this place.”

  A moment later, Detective Jefferson was back on the phone, this time with Judge Cooper, requesting that Tessa be let out of the hospital early. He also asked for a warrant to search Dr. Armistead’s home and office. His demeanor when he disconnected the call spoke volumes to Tessa. She’d be getting out of here, even if it was just long enough to go to the police station.

  An hour later, flanked by her rescuers, Tessa entered the station. She smiled broadly, never imagining it would feel so good to be there. They stopped at Detective Jefferson’s desk, where he bent over and began shuffling through some papers.

  She’d give her statement, and then, as long as the judge agreed, she would hopefully be allowed to go home on her own recognizance. There was nowhere she’d rather be than home, secure in the knowledge that she was safe, that monster out of her life forever.

  Tessa turned at the sound of footsteps to see Drew standing behind her. With a wry smile, she said, “You didn’t come visit me at the hospital.”

  Drew bent over and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispered into her hair. “Now we just have to get you cleared of shooting Camille, and you’ll be home free.”

  “Free,” Tessa repeated softly. When was the last time she really felt free?

  As she recounted the events of the evening, Detective Jefferson nodded and took notes, interjecting a question here and there. Drew sat beside her, tightly holding her hand like he had every intention of keeping his promise.

  When she was finished talking, the detective nodded his head and laid his pen on the desk. “I’ve got one more call to make,” he said, picking up his phone.

  Tessa’s hope soared as she listened to the detective request that she not be placed back in jail while they worked to get the details of the case ironed out. He paused, then looked at Tessa while still speaking to the judge. “Yes, I’m sure she would be more than happy to wear a tracking device.”

  Nodding vigorously, Tessa said, “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Detective Jefferson said, then dropped the phone back in its cradle. He turned his attention to Tessa. “As long as you agree to abide by some rules, it looks like you’ll be sleeping in your own bed tonight.”

  93

  With a tracking device strapped around her ankle, Tessa walked through the front door of the police station and out into the fresh night air, Drew at her side.

  Dr. Raymond sat on the steps and rose as she approached. “I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know it would turn out like this.”

  Tessa shook her head. “There’s no way you could have known. But I’m okay. A killer has been taken off the streets, and I finally know what happened to Mama.”

  At the puzzled looks on the faces of Drew and Dr. Raymond, she explained Dr. Armistead’s confession that he’d been treating her mother, and when she became suspicious of his activities, he’d killed her.

  “I wasn’t imagining things when I said I saw a man running through her yard. It was him.” Tessa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I guess I didn’t end up like Mama after all.” She paused. “She was braver than I ever gave her credit for. I assumed she was too sick to realize she needed help. She knew, though, and she wanted to get better.” A tear rolled down Tessa’s cheek. “Anita Wells, I hereby release you from the blame of screwing me up beyond repair.”

  “Who?” Dr. Raymond asked.

  “Mama. Her name was Anita Wells.”

  The psychologist snapped his fingers. “That’s why you look so familiar,” he said, then in response to the questioning glances, he continued. “When the ink on my doctoral degree was still wet, I did my post-doctoral work at the old psychiatric hospital. I had a patient named Anita Wells. She was a very smart, very scared young woman. The first time you came to see me, I thought your eyes looked familiar. Now I know why.” He smiled. “You’ve got your mother’s eyes.”

  “I do,” Tessa agreed, “and that’s not all I got from her.” She smiled. The weight of the responsibility she’d put on herself to care for her mom, and the self-blame for failing her was finally lifted from her shoulders. She hadn’t failed her. Mama had been a survivor.

  Just like Tessa.

  Epiloguer />
  One Week Later

  Tessa pulled the story she’d just written off the printer and gave it a quick once-over. She’d taken a chance in asking Jack if she could write the inside scoop about what had gone on last week, and he’d hesitantly agreed. The story had already been covered by other news outlets, but none of them had the perspective of someone who lived through it. Though difficult to write, Tessa was proud of the end result.

  The story covered Dr. Jacob Armistead’s string of murders, which dated back more than a decade, as well as the attempted murders of Camille Walker and Tessa James. She’d also mentioned his intent to go back to Camille’s hospital room and ensure she could never identify him as her shooter. His choice to commit suicide rather than be taken into custody was also included.

  Dr. Armistead had kept a detailed journal that described the murders of Margo Lang, Amanda Meyers, and Anita Wells. He’d listed many others as well, and Tessa was proud to have played a part in bringing closure to the families of the other victims.

  Dr. Armistead’s accomplice, Ann Mason, was found stabbed to death in her car. Though there was no entry in the journal about her murder, it was assumed he was responsible.

  She ended the story with Camille Walker’s ongoing recovery and, for the sake of human interest, included her budding romance with one of the male nurses she’d met in the ICU.

  Tucked deep in the story was a call for society to increase its awareness of mental illness. She’d learned firsthand that there were a lot of people with misconceptions about those struggling with psychiatric disorders. She remembered Martha’s comment about the revolving door and wondered who was occupying the bed she’d slept in only a week ago. Thoughts of Mama still haunted her. Mama, who’d finally recognized her need for help had been silenced.

  Tessa would be her voice.

  Laying the page on the desk, Tessa was satisfied that she’d told the story in a way that would honor the victims and their families. She opened her email and attached the file, then pressed send.