Widow Town

by Joe Hart

  ~

  When he rounded the corner on the third floor a sense of déjà vu swept over him. Dr. Barder stood outside Miles’s door along with the much shorter form of Monty Wells. A man no older than twenty-five leaned against the wall, his eyes focused on the phone in his hand. He wore a dark blue uniform with a golden patch in the form of an eagle sewn to its shoulder and left breast. Gray walked past him and nodded once as he neared Monty and Barder.

  “Morning, Sheriff,” Monty said, his paunchy face drawn tight beneath his hat.

  “I’m so glad you didn’t say ‘good’ before that, Monty,” Gray said, stopping near the doorway. Muted sobs came from within the room, lamentations of a soul that has broken.

  “Dr. Barder,” Gray said, extending a hand.

  Barder shook it. There were deep lines around the doctor’s eyes. “Sheriff. Sorry to see you so soon again.”

  “Likewise. What happened to him?”

  Barder shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure of the cause yet but late last night Mr. Baron had a massive stroke as well as a coronary hematoma. It was very violent in nature. I checked on him during my rounds an hour or so before and he was resting peacefully.”

  Gray turned his head toward the door as a louder wail rose and then fell. “What could have caused it?”

  “It may have been a number of things but most likely it was due to some trauma that he underwent while he was being held captive. A blood clot could have formed somewhere in his system that our initial scans didn’t pick up. Even with the advanced technology we have at our disposal the body still can keep its secrets if it wants to. It appears he had some sort of seizure which dislocated the clot and then pumped it to a vital area such as the brain, causing almost immediate death.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Gray said.

  “I thought you should know so I called the department and deputy Wells here said he would contact you.”

  “Thank you, doctor. Miles was a friend.” Gray rubbed his eyes, mashing the fatigue from them. “How long have they been in there?”

  “A half hour or so,” Barder said, lowering his gaze to the floor. “You never get used to hearing that sound. But I’m sure you gentlemen know all about that.”

  “Yes sir, we do,” Monty said.

  The man in the blue uniform approached their group and pocketed his phone. He chewed a piece of gum and the powerful odor of mint hung around him like a cloud.

  “So am I good to go, yet?” the man asked.

  “I would assume so, but I’ll let the sheriff decide that,” Barder answered. “This is Justin Hawkins from Spire Security. He was supposed to be on duty for this morning’s shift.”

  Gray began to turn to the younger man but stopped. “You mean he was relieving the other guard that was on duty overnight, right?” Gray said, looking first at the doctor and then at the security officer.

  “No one was on duty overnight,” Justin said, snapping his gum with a loud crack.

  “What do you mean, no one was on duty?” Gray asked, rounding fully on him.

  “Just what I said. We were contracted for shifts from seven a.m. to seven p.m. That’s it.”

  Gray inhaled a long breath. “Sheriff Enson hired your company?”

  “Yep, far as I know.”

  Gray closed his eyes and shook his head. “Damn him.”

  “So are we good, or—”

  “Yeah, we’re good,” Gray said, his voice taking on an acidic edge. “Get out of here.”

  The younger man nodded and walked away, checking his phone again as he rounded the corner out of sight.

  “He hired a fucking rent-a-cop instead of placing one of his own deputies here,” Gray said to Monty and Barder as he turned back to them. “And he didn’t even pay them to stay overnight.”

  “Well, to be honest, Sheriff, it didn’t matter in this case, correct? I mean, the man who was responsible is dead and Mr. Baron died of natural causes,” Barder said.

  Gray looked down at the floor and then brought his gaze back to the doctor. “Could anyone have done this to him? Caused it somehow?”

  “The blood clot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not that I’m aware of. The body naturally forms clots but usually they aren’t released into the blood stream. There are a few chemical agents that could form clots but their effects would kill a person much faster than the clot they cause.” Barder ran a hand through his light hair and blinked. “I’m very sorry, gentlemen, but I’ve been on shift way too long. I need some sleep.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Gray said.

  “You’re welcome, and I’m sorry for your loss, I didn’t know Mr. Baron personally but he seemed to have many people who cared about him.”

  “He was a good man,” Monty said.

  “Yes he was,” Gray said.

  “By the way, how’re the lungs feeling, Sheriff?”

  “Better, I’m keeping up with the inhaler.”

  “Good deal. Please call me with any other questions.”

  “We will,” Gray said. He watched the lanky physician proceed down the hall and turn at the corridor junction. A black orb mounted in the ceiling snagged Gray’s attention and he turned, looking at Miles’s door.

  “Well, I guess that’s that, as they say, Sheriff,” Monty said, tugging at his duty belt to fit it higher over his round stomach.

  Gray turned back to look at the camera in the ceiling. “Who the hell are ‘they,’ Monty?”

  “Not sure.”

  Gray started down the hall, his eyes dead beneath his hat. “I’m not either.”

  ~

  The video room wasn’t much more than a glorified broom closet. Gray looked around it as he entered behind the slender IT coordinator, whose name he thought was Delly. One wall held a thin viewing strip above a keyboard. The technology was completely wireless so the room had a disused look, the desk blank except for a finger pad and a stale cup of coffee. The viewing strip was segmented into dozens of smaller videos, all showing rooms or corridors in the hospital.

  “You were concerned about the west third floor hallway?” Delly asked. She had long red hair that hung above her waistline in a tight braid.

  “That’s right,” Gray said, trying to turn in the small space to accommodate Monty’s presence. After a few attempts by Monty to struggle past him, Gray shook his head.

  “It won’t do, Monty, just wait outside for now. There’s not enough air in here for the three of us anyway.”

  “Sorry, the room was an afterthought when they built the building since all of the technology service is hosted offsite. This is just a control center and no one thought we needed a large room for that,” Delly said, turning back to the viewing wall.

  “Feels like a bomb shelter.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. How far back does the recording go?”

  “From when the service was turned on. We could go back to day one.”

  “Good. Can we see last night from the time the guard left Mr. Baron’s door to this morning when I arrived?”

  “Sure thing.” Delly’s long fingers flicked across the finger pad. The screen before them changed, one square in the upper corner filling up the bulk of the video. The picture contained a view from the ceiling of the third floor hallway. A nurse pushed a patient on a rolling cart, the man’s eyes closed to the harsh light. The scene flickered and changed. A man in an identical uniform as the guard from earlier walked toward the camera and disappeared from view.

  “Here we go,” Delly said. “Would you like to spool through it in real time or a different speed?”

  “You can go faster, just so that we can see if someone goes in or out of that room on the end.” Gray tapped the screen where Miles’s door sat. It was definable but small even with the enlargement. Motions became hurried on the video. Nurses, doctors, and patients all passed through the viewing area at quadruple their actual speed. Sunshine angled into the hall through a window and moved in a smooth arc as the evening pas
sed into night. Gray recognized Dr. Barder making his rounds and then exiting the scene. Headlights from the parking lot swung across the hallway several times, blazing and then gone. After that the video seemed to still with no movement for a short time and then a rush of activity filled the screen.

  A line of nurses rushed down the hallway to Miles’s room and flooded inside. A moment later two ran back the way they’d come before reentering the picture rolling a narrow cart between them. Barder followed close behind and all was still for several seconds, then the activity began again with various hospital personal hurrying to and fro, their movements frenetic, the looks on their faces harried then gone.

  Gray watched the screen, his eyes never leaving Miles’s door. The hunched form of Renna supported by David moved down the corridor, their motions choppy and stunted before they vanished inside the room. At last the video calmed and the uniformed guard strode into view, his movements lazy even in fast forward.

  “That’s enough, thank you, Delly.”

  “Sure thing. Can I ask what you were looking for?”

  “Anything, but I didn’t see it.”

  “Well, let me know if you need any more help,” she gestured to the close walls. “This is my kingdom.”

  Gray smiled. “Thank you, I may be in touch.”

  He exited the confined space and adjusted his hat. Sunlight streamed in through a bank of high windows above a stairway at the end of the hall. Monty waited for him near a drinking fountain, watching nurses pass by. He straightened up as Gray neared and cleared his throat.

  “Got what you needed, Sheriff?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. Uh, well what’re we—”

  “You can go home, Joseph will be coming on in fifteen. Appreciate you calling me this morning.”

  “No problem. What’s on your agenda today?”

  Gray walked toward the stairway, the sun too bright on the floor. “Have to get my chores done before the ball or wicked stepmother won’t let me go.”

  Monty shook his head, his face scrunching up before he followed Gray down the sunlit stairs.

  Chapter 27

  Rachel woke in a panic, realizing only as she rose from the depths of sleep that she hadn’t managed to stay awake.

  She sat up on the narrow bed, stretching her legs in a flare of pain as the feeling came back to them. The air was cool but not cold, the subtle odor of wet concrete invading her nose. Her eyes flew to the transparent wall across from the bed and found the sleeping form of Ken lying half on and half off the mattress situated on the floor of the next cell.

  A sob slipped from her mouth as she stood and moved to the composite glass that separated them. She placed a hand against the barrier, reaching out to him while steadying herself at the same time, tears running down her cheeks. His little knees were on the hard concrete while his upper body rested on the mattress. No blanket covered him and as she watched, he turned his head in his sleep, tucking his bare arms beneath him. He was cold.

  Rachel sobbed again and looked around the room. The simple bed against the wall, a water fountain in the corner, a toilet next to it, the steel door without a handle set in the concrete. Nothing else. A scream welled up inside her and she clamped her mouth shut against it. She didn’t want to wake Ken up, now that he’d calmed down and wasn’t crying anymore.

  The door to Ken’s cell squeaked and then swung open.

  Rachel pressed herself against the glass, her hands balled into fists. A man came into Ken’s room, not bothering to shut the door behind him. His eyes found hers and he smiled as he approached her son and gently moved his lower half onto the bed.

  “Don’t you touch him! Don’t you dare hurt him!” Rachel yelled.

  He looked up at her, the constant cold smile on his face. He turned and sat on the bed near Ken’s head and began to stroke his dark hair.

  “He’s finally sleeping,” the man said, his voice filtering into her room through several vents in the ceiling.

  “I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you if you hurt him,” Rachel said through the tears that threatened to choke off her voice.

  “I don’t doubt you would, Rachel, but seeing that you’re in there and I’m in here, there’s not a whole lot you can do.”

  “What do you want?”

  The smile again. A snake’s grin. “I want the natural order of things to be restored, Rachel. The balance is off and the world knows it. There must be equality in all things, don’t you agree?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you don’t, but someday you will.”

  “Let us go, please. I won’t tell anyone about what happened. We’ll leave town and never come back.”

  The man laughed. “Oh Rachel, let’s not be banal. You know that would never work. You would call the police the moment you were free, we both know that, so let’s dispense with the pleas for freedom, you’re wasting your breath.”

  “Please, just don’t hurt us.”

  The man stroked Ken’s hair one last time, tenderly rubbing his forehead with a thumb before he stood and walked closer to the glass. “This is what I’m talking about. Your groveling is nauseating. Your weakness surrounds you like a filthy cloud. You stink of it.”

  “I’ll do anything, anything,” she said, the strength slowly seeping from her legs. She slid down the glass to her knees, her hands still pressed to the barrier.

  “Yes, you will. Sometime soon one of the men who took you from your house will come to you. You’ll do whatever he wants or your son dies while you watch. Do you understand?”

  Rachel’s breath stuttered out of her in short blasts. “Yes.”

  “If you try to escape, your son dies. If you refuse to eat or drink, he dies. It’s all very simple, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, I’m glad we have an understanding. You’ll find the more cooperative you are the better things will be. Ken will not be harmed if you behave, his salvation lies in you.”

  His last words must have struck him funny for the man began to chuckle, a grating sound that echoed in flat tones through the vents. Rachel shook, her entire body trembling with barely contained violence.

  “I know you want to kill me,” he said. “And that’s good, it gives me hope for the future.”

  She said nothing, only stared at her captor.

  “I’ll let you rest now, you’ve both been through an ordeal but you’ll get used to it here; the routine, the way life flows. It will all become normal soon enough. When faced with something day in and day out, anything can become normal.”

  The man turned away, graceful in his movements, fluid like floating death. He stopped at the door and pivoted back around for a last look into the cell. Rachel watched him, the tremors ceasing in her and giving way to a coating of sweat.

  “I almost forgot,” he said. “I announced your arrival here this morning and I have a message for you.” He waited, the silence between them stretching out.

  “Yes?” Her voice barely cleared her mouth.

  “Joslyn says ‘hello’.”

  The man smiled one last time and shut the door, its lock snapping home loud in the sea of quiet.

  Chapter 28

  Gray stopped the cruiser before Hudson’s low brick house and shut the engine off.

  He stepped outside into the punishing heat, its touch lancing beneath his shirt, pulling sweat from his pores. He walked toward the house, its door now cordoned off with strips of plastic tape. He pulled these aside and opened the door.

  The house stunk of unwashed flesh and mold. Hazy light filled the room and left shadows discarded beneath a single table in the corner. Gray stood in the doorway, his eyes passing over everything within the single-roomed residence. Dust was smudged here and there where the forensics team had scoured the surfaces with their scanners and vacuums. All of the man’s meager possessions were stacked near the hump of clothes that once served as a bed. Gray kicked an empty plastic jug and left the house, shutting the
door behind him.

  He made his way through the long grass, its touch dry and brittle beneath his boots. The barn loomed ahead, its eyeless face and open-mouthed door waiting for him. Inside the pallets of drugs and the materials to make them were gone. The cooking equipment had been removed also. The filthy space was barren. Rotted and broken boards lay in the dirt. The acrid smell of the poisonous smoke still lingered; a taste of death in the air. A fly lay on its back in the dirt, buzzing its wings in futility.

  Gray walked to the rear of the barn and knelt in the furthest stanchion. The torture bucket’s outline was still traced in the dirt. He touched the circle with his finger and stood, walking to where the chains and their hooks had hung.

  The wooden beam was rough and several splinters tried to stand up and invade his skin as he ran a hand over it. He leaned in closer, straining his eyes against the feeble light. The wood was almost unblemished save for one place where Miles’s chain hung earlier. He stared at the spot and then rubbed it with his thumb, feeling the slight groove. He turned and knelt in the dirt, spreading his arms out wide. His hands fell against the stanchion’s sides. He sat there for a long time looking at the ground and boards around him. Slowly he rose and shook his head.

  “Nope.”

  Gray walked out of the barn and kicked the door partly closed behind him. He went to his right, around the barn’s decaying side and within five strides was in the thicket that lined the overgrown yard. The trees’ bony shadows didn’t throw enough shade to cover his passage fully and the sun became an X-ray strobing through the dying leaves.

  The land sloped away with tangled nettles and wilting Hackberry. There was no respite from the heat beneath the broken canopy and Gray stopped to trigger the nebulizer, the mint cooling his burning lungs. The ground gradually leveled out and then dropped again in an abrupt dip. He stopped on the lip of the dried stream, looking at the naked rocks. The sand bottom was mostly undisturbed; a small animal track the only sign life existed in the woods.