And, at that moment, he changed. Something in the deep recesses of her mind switched him from a harmless but misdirected boy into a dark shell of an evil man. He no longer deserved her sympathy, her help. He’d dragged her back into that foggy room of her mind. The one with the framed photos. But this time, she fought back. She fought back to the Day Room and its warm evening shadows. Back to see Stuart the Molester moaning on the floor. He wasn’t misunderstood. He was pathetic.
Kill him. Kill him.
Agnes stepped over his straight left leg and walked toward her room.
Noises echoed from the end of the women’s hallway. A door lock clunked. An excited voice grew in volume, along with the squeals of rubber-soled shoes on the linoleum. She heard the nurse’s voice, but she didn’t let the words register. She felt the breeze as the nurse brushed past her.
No. Don’t go. He’s down. Kill him. Kill. Him.
Agnes kept walking, into her bare-walled room. To her dog. To Jason.
CHAPTER 10
Jason paused at the Day Room door and slid his left hand behind his back. The stuffed dog was nearly identical to the one he’d given Agnes soon after she’d arrived at Imola, but in miniature. It had the large eyes and stubby limbs of a puppy. He hoped the colors matched.
He opened the door but froze. Something wasn’t right. The Day Room was nearly empty, except for Stuart Guerin, who sat in a chair under the television, his right leg propped on another chair, cushioned by a pillow. A plastic brace enclosed his foot and extended several inches above his ankle.
Jason stepped into the room and stopped again. “Where is everyone?”
Stuart twisted his head in Jason’s direction. His eyes were wide, dark as onyx. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Jason’s arms fell to his sides. The stuffed puppy dangled.
Stuart turned in his chair and let out a grunt. He reached for a pair of crutches that leaned against the back of the chair. “Gimme that dog. Give it to me.” He pulled his foot down from the other chair and cried out when it touched the floor. “Then get the fuck out of here.”
Jason sidestepped to his right and nearly bumped into Nurse Dorothy, who was in a half-jog. She shuffled between the two men and thrust her right hand out to Stuart. “Stay in the chair. Or I’ll put you back in your room.”
Stuart froze. “Get him out of here. He came to see her.” He pointed at his foot.
Nurse Dorothy kept her hand out toward Stuart. “Don’t get out of that chair.” She spun around to face Jason and hurried into the women’s hall. “Come on.”
Jason glanced at Stuart as he followed the nurse. Stuart raised his right hand, middle finger extended.
Dorothy stopped about ten feet into the hall, and Jason nearly plowed into her. “What’s going on?” He studied her face. The usual smile was gone, and the calm, patient look that usually softened her eyes was replaced with a dull, hard stare.
She held her index finger against her lips. “Shhh. I just got everyone calmed down. Agnes had a problem with Stuart last night, and she stomped on his foot. Broke one of the bones. When she came out this morning, all hell broke loose. Stuart tried to hit her with a crutch, and all of the women went after him. It took four of us to break it up.”
“Where’s Agnes? Is she all right?”
“Everyone but Stuart is locked down. They have to stay in their rooms until after lunch. Longer if they can’t behave. You’ll have to come back some other time.”
Jason gripped the puppy with both hands and took a step toward the nurse. He usually flirted with her, but not now. “I want to see Agnes. She’s probably upset.”
“She has to stay in her room until everyone calms down.”
“So Stuart attacks Agnes, and Agnes gets locked up?”
“Stuart trashed his room. Maintenance is in there right now.”
“And you’ve rewarded his behavior and punished the others. I suppose Stuart will have the run of the place from now on.”
Dorothy folded her arms across her chest. “We’re going to try to transfer him to another ward. I’ll put in the paperwork this afternoon.”
“You’re going to try? What does that mean? How long will it take?”
“I don’t know. It depends on the doctors. They have to evaluate the situation.”
“Don’t give me one of your little paper pill cups. What’re the odds he’ll go?”
“I don’t know. It’s up to the doctors.”
Jason released one hand from the dog and balled itinto a fist. “Where are the doctors?”
She didn’t answer. The index finger and thumb of her right hand tugged on her lapel.
“I want to see Agnes. She needs company right now.”
Dorothy stiffened. “And I want a villa in Monaco.”
Jason stared into her eyes and went into blink-suppression mode. She held his stare. He brought the puppy up to his chest and her eyes dipped, returned, and widened. She let out a mouthful of air and shook her head.
“A half hour,” she said. “No longer. I’ll knock.” She walked to Agnes’s room and keyed the door.
“Thank you.” He smiled as he walked past her into the room. It was dark, but the light of the hall illuminated Agnes’s form lying on the bed, facing away from the door.
The door slammed, followed by the sound of the key throwing the dead bolt. The room went pitch dark. Jason fumbled against the wall with his right hand, searching for the light switch. He bumped it and then flicked it upward. An overhead fluorescent fixture flooded the room. He squinted at the bed. Agnes didn’t move. The faint odor of lavender enveloped him, then disappeared.
He took a step closer. “Agnes. Are you all right?”
At the sound of his voice, she turned and sat up in one motion. “You’re here. They said they wouldn’t let you in.” She smoothed her hair with her hands.
He wrapped his left hand, and the puppy, behind his back. “They’d have a hard time keeping me away.” He smiled through the awkward silence and held out the stuffed animal. “I think your doggie needs a puppy.”
Agnes laughed as she slid her legs over the side of the bed. She grabbed the puppy and hugged it tight, then reached for her stuffed dog and brought the two together. “You always know how to make me happy.” Her eyes met his. “I needed this today.”
Jason sat on the bed beside her. “What happened last night?”
She looked down at her dogs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What did Stuart do to you? I’m not one of the doctors. This isn’t therapy. I care about you, and I want to know what he did.”
Agnes’s eyes watered. “He tried to get his usual feel, but this time he wouldn’t stop. He kept touching me, and he tried to get inside my clothes.”
Jason leaned back and examined Agnes’s face. He expected tears to fall, but instead her expression changed. Not to full anger, but it appeared to be edging in that direction.
“I had to hurt him.” Her face softened, and her eyes released the tears.
Jason leaned his shoulder against hers. “I’m sorry. The nurse said they’re going to transfer him. You won’t be bothered by him anymore.”
“I thought he was harmless, but he got so mad. I think he’s evil.”
Jason patted her knee. “He’s not evil. He has problems, like everyone else. He just needs more help right now.”
Agnes leaned into his shoulder. “And I need you right now.”
The silence pressed like they were covered by a wet tarp.
Agnes jerked away. “Why do you keep coming here?”
The movement startled him, and the question threw him. Words caught in this throat. The look on her face was different again, but he couldn’t place it. Her eyes were still wet, but they looked intense, like she was staring straight into his brain. “To see you.”
“I know, but why?”
“I care about you. I want you to get better.”
“And all you talk about is how I’m doing. You know all about me,
but I don’t know anything about you.” She pressed her shoulder into his again. “And I want to.”
He broke eye contact and looked down at his hands gripping each other on his lap. “Like what?”
“I know you’re a reporter, but that’s it. Do you have family? Brothers? Sisters?”
“I have a brother.”
“Older or younger?”
“Older. His name is Donnie.”
“I’ve never heard you mention him before. Are you close to him?”
“Yeah. We get along okay.”
“How about when you were young? Talk to me. Don’t just answer questions.”
He shifted his eyes and peeked at her. She was still looking right at his face. It wasn’t like the Agnes he knew. She rarely held eye contact that long. “We were the typical American family. Donnie and I had fun, but we fought a lot, too. He’d tease me, punch me in the arm—until I hit high school. I passed him up in height in my sophomore year and in weight that summer. He stopped hitting when I started hitting back. But, yeah. We were close. Still are.”
“What does he do? Is he a reporter, too?”
“It’s hard to describe what Donnie does. Mooches off of me, mostly. He’s into computers. Really good at it. His hobby is hacking. Not individuals—corporations, governments. He just plays with them. Puts jokes into their programs. Nothing to bring down the systems.”
“He doesn’t have a job?”
Jason turned his body and looked straight at Agnes’s face. The intensity was still in her eyes. “He makes a little money here and there. Under the table. Nothing Uncle Sam knows about, anyway.”
A frown creased Agnes’s forehead. “He’s dishonest? Does he break the law?”
“Petty stuff, mostly. Every August and September he pulls in a bundle making fake IDs for college kids. I guess that’s his specialty.”
Agnes turned her head and looked straight ahead, at the door. “I don’t know much about that. Is it a serious crime?”
“He can get in a lot of trouble, but he has a clean record, aside from parking tickets. He does something else that could earn him time, though. He manufactures identities.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he supplies the paperwork to make a person become another person in the government’s eyes. I guess he’s pretty good at it. He gets quite a few requests.”
“Haven’t you tried to stop him? Get him to look for a regular job?”
“Nobody gets Donnie to do anything.” Jason chuckled. “He has to want to do it on his own. I’ve beat my head against that wall too many times. Someday maybe he’ll grow up, but that’s something I can’t help him with.”
“I don’t believe that.” Her head swung around to face him again. “You’re helping me.”
“That’s different. You want my help.”
“I thought you said he mooches off you. He must want your help.”
“He wants my money.”
“And you give it to him? Why?”
Jason looked down at his lap again and shrugged.
“Because you love him,” she said. “Because he’s family. Right?”
“I guess you can say that.”
“What about your mother? How does she feel about Donnie?”
“She died a few years back. But she doted on him to the end. A mother’s love is unconditional. She only saw the good in him. And in me.”
“Your father?”
“He’s in Georgia. Recently remarried. He gave up on Donnie a long time ago. I think he’s given up on me now, too. He has another life and we’re adults. He remembers our birthdays. That’s about all.”
He felt an increase in the pressure of her shoulder against his.
“So it’s just you and Donnie.”
“Yup. He’s my family. I guess that’s why I look after him.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her head bob. “Family is important to you.”
“Yes.”
“Me, too.”
“I know about you and Lilin. I’m—”
“Can I meet him?”
Jason recoiled, pulling his shoulder from hers. “Who? Donnie?”
“Yeah. Can you bring him here?”
“I don’t think he’d do too well in Imola. He’s got a sarcastic streak. And no tact. He’d probably start a riot.”
“I don’t care. I’d like to meet him.”
He relaxed and let his shoulder fall against hers again. “Why?”
“I don’t have any family left. I’d like to meet yours.”
Agnes rested her head on the edge of his shoulder and reached across and touched his hand.
He folded his hand around it and interlaced his fingers with hers. He looked down and flinched, but maintained his grip, tightened it. He leaned his shoulder back, and she slid her head into the crook of his neck. This time, he didn’t flinch.
“You know, I’m a virgin. I’ve waited for the right man.”
His mind went blank, as if it’d been jolted with twenty thousand volts. The intensity of her eyes, the sudden boldness—it all tossed his mind like he was in a rowboat in the middle of an angry ocean. When his mind cleared, all he saw were images of the murder scenes—what Lilin had done to those men. How she had seduced them. Then he flashed forward to what Lilin had suggested he do with her on their one and only meeting. She had wanted him to take her right there on his patio. When he refused, she went after him with her razor. That wasn’t the behavior of a virgin. Far from it.
Agnes reappeared in his mind. The baggy clothes she used to wear. Her shy, introverted demeanor. The way she had seldom made full eye contact. He could believe Agnes was still a virgin, no matter what Lilin had done.
He felt his grip tighten and hers respond. Deflowering was removed long ago from his to-do list, and right now his thoughts weren’t anywhere near sex. But he suspected hers weren’t either. If he was right, Agnes was talking about something that went way beyond the physical. She was offering to share herself, but more than her body, with him.
With that thought, he felt the stirring. A stirring he hadn’t felt since Eugenia. The sensation he couldn’t quite reach with April Leahy. A warm rush ascended his neck and face. He caught her scent and inhaled it. Confusion followed the pleasurable tingle. It was Agnes speaking—wasn’t it? Or was this Lilin elbowing in on Agnes’s world again? He wanted it to be pure Agnes.
A door-rattling knock startled them both. The deadbolt clunked, and the door swung open. Nurse Dorothy stepped in. “You’re going to have to leave now.”
Agnes leaned upright as Jason stiffened.
“I thought you said I had a half hour,” said Jason.
“The doctor’s coming in. Sorry, but you have to leave. Now.”
Jason stood and pulled Agnes up into a hug. “I’ll be back next week. We’ll have more time then.” He leaned back and looked at her face. “The thing with Stuart the Stud. It’ll all work out.”
Agnes turned her head upward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for the puppy.” She released him and cradledher dogs to her chest.
Jason walked past the nurse and flinched when he heard the door lock clunk again. He hurried into the Day Room.
Stuart sat in the same chair, one crutch flat on the floor, just out of his reach. He turned his head when he saw Jason. “I thought I told you to get the fuck out of here.”
Jason stomped over to the chair and grabbed Stuart’s chin. He squeezed hard. “You listen to me, you little asshole. If you bother Agnes or the other girls again, I’ll rip your throat out with my bare hands.” He shook Stuart’s head. “Do you understand me?”
Stuart whimpered.
Jason raised his voice. “Do you understand me, you little piss ant?”
Dorothy rounded the corner and went into a sprint. “Let him go.” She grabbed Jason’s arm and yanked it back. “You need to leave. Now! Let us take care of this.”
Jason stepped back and nodded at the nurse. He looked back at Stuart, who was
crying, his hands covering his face. “You remember what I said.”
Stuart pulled his hands away and forced a smile. The middle finger of his right hand stabbed the air.
CHAPTER 11
Jason varied his squint through the dark lenses of his sunglasses as April Leahy’s BMW clung to the twisting secondary road outside of Santa Rosa. Their general direction was west, but the road waggled up to forty-five degrees to either side of the primary vector. The sun was past overhead, but not yet to a visor-worthy angle, and the intermittent trees strobed the light to tease his eyes.
“What’s the mission?” he said. “I’m not good with surprises.”
April kept her eyes on the road. “Wine tasting. Today, it’s Russian River Valley Pinot Noir. This year’s bottling is supposed to be incredible. You game?”
He had never acquired a tongue for the subtleties of the different varietals, probably due to a lack of effort. When it came to alcoholic beverages, a cork couldn’t compete with a bottle cap, but he enjoyed a good wine with dinner on occasion. His sorting was done by color.
“I thought women liked white wines.” He looked over to catch her reaction.
April’s eyes didn’t leave the road. Her voice was steady. “I drink whites when the company is more important than the wine. When the wine is the goal, I go for the reds.” A slight upturn twitched the corner of her mouth.
“It’s nice to know where I fit on your priority list.”
She glanced over at him and accelerated into a turn. “Don’t get sensitive on me. You know you’re more than company.”
He turned until he felt slight pressure from the shoulder belt. “So how would you like to be stranded on a desert island? With me or with a top shelf Pinot Noir?”
Her right hand grappled air, then found his left knee. “Don’t ever give a single woman an either-or choice. You might not like the answer.” She exaggerated a grin with raised eyebrows, and brought her hand back to the wheel.
“Will they have Zinfandel? I like that one.” He leaned back into the car seat. “Donnie’s the one with the mouth for wine. If I want to perk him up, I just bring a bottle of Sebastiani Barbera. He says he prefers the Chianti types. I go for the whatever-they’re-serving types.”
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