Lou Fairbanks kept her shoulders back, her chest forward, and eyes straight ahead as she marched down the hall. How could Diane accuse her of such horrific crimes? She had her ups and downs, but her patients meant the world to her and she had made them her life. To have that questioned made her shake with fury. After all she’d done for this place, to find out that is what they thought of her almost broke her.
Lou knocked on Room 437. “Ginny? You there?” she called out and knocked again. No answer. She pressed her ear to the door and heard nothing. She stooped to pick up her nurse’s bag when the vertigo hit again. She’d been so angry and focused that the anxiety hadn’t taken hold as badly in the last week, but she should have known it was there, just waiting to rear its ugly head. She straightened up and leaned against the wall. She didn’t have time for this now, she thought and pressed on down the hall. She would have to work through it. “Your life depends on this, Lou,” she said out loud to the empty hallway.
This patient couldn’t reject her, Lou thought, as she rapped twice on Room 801 and opened the door. “Good morning, Nancy. How are you today?” Lou said in a cheerful voice and smiled at the tiny granny ensconced in numerous blankets. Nancy nodded at her without smiling.
“Morning, Lou,” she said and averted her eyes as Lou went to the foot of her bed, uncovered a shriveled leg, and started to massage Nancy’s ankle to get her blood flowing. “You’re awfully quiet today, Nancy,” Lou said and moved up to the calf.
“Is it true, Lou?” Nancy asked in a childlike voice.
“What’s true?” Lou’s grip tightened on Nancy’s calf, and the woman winced.
“Sorry,” Lou whispered and loosened her grasp. Nancy turned away from her.
“Never mind,” Nancy said. Lou put her left leg down and started on the right.
“You can ask me anything,” Lou prodded as she kneaded.
Nancy’s eyes fixed back on hers. “Did you really do it?” she whispered.
“Do what?”
“Kill Lauren and Barbara?” Nancy blurted out. Lou stopped kneading and dropped her leg.
“Everyone thinks I’m the killer?” Lou’s voice shook with emotion. Nancy stared at her quilt as if it were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “Is that what you’re asking me?”
Nancy lifted her eyes to Lou’s. “Yes, that’s what everyone’s thinking,” Nancy whispered. Before Lou could stop herself, tears streaked down her face. She perched on the edge of the bed and took Nancy’s hand.
“Why would you believe that? Haven’t I been good to you? Taken care of you?” Lou pleaded. “I’ve always been kind.”
Nancy turned to face her and nodded. Lou’s watery smile disappeared as Nancy pulled her hand away. Lou tightened her grasp on the older woman’s hand, and Nancy pulled away harder. When she saw the fear creep into her face, Lou let her go.
“I should take a nap now. Thank you, Lou,” Nancy said and turned to the wall. Lou got to her feet and thought she would be sick.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Lou’s voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I mean, I need to massage your legs everyday so they don’t atrophy,” she said and grabbed her bag. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Lou walked into her apartment just as Dads was putting the kettle on the burner for tea. She dropped her nurse’s bag and rushed to stop him.
“Dads, how many times have I told you not to turn the range on?” She pushed him off to the side and turned the burner off again.
“I can make tea. I’m…not…a…child,” he said.
“You forget to turn it off. We don’t want to burn the place down,” she said as she picked up the kettle and pointed at its blackened bottom.
“Buy an electric kettle then,” he said, startling her with his clarity. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d strung a sentence together. She stared at him till he looked down.
“We don’t have the money,” she said and slumped down into her chair.
He joined her at the table. “Don’t yell at me.”
“They think I’m the one murdering everyone,” Lou said, studying the bandage on his forearm. She kneeled in front of him. “Who did this to you?” She searched his face for an answer, but his eyes were already unfocused. Frustrated, she got back to her feet. “I need to find out who’s setting me up.” She stomped to the kitchenette.
Sara Caine woke up to Johan’s head next to her arm. She closed her eyes and imagined a much better circumstance for him to be so close to her than the one they were in now. She sighed, opened her eyes again and heard him snore. She noticed he wore the same clothes as the night of the séance. He stayed with me all night, she thought.
Sunlight streamed through the window and onto his head, catching the bluish highlights in his black hair. She fought the urge to run her fingers through it.
Instead, she shifted her arm to check her head. At least the headache was gone. Her movement startled Johan awake, and his eyes met hers. He stroked the damp hair off her forehead. She attempted a hello but the only sound that came out resembled a raspy croak.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as his smile dazzled in the sun and warmed her.
“How long have I been out?” she managed to get out.
“Twelve hours, give or take. The doctors say an unexplained coma. Has this ever happened before?” Johan asked. She shook her head and his look told her he didn’t believe her.
“I would have told you, Johan. I swear.” Her voice came out stronger this time.
“Let me get the doctor, they should check you out,” he said and stood up. “I’ll be back in a second.” There went that smile again. He motioned to someone outside, and Sara closed her eyes.
The woman’s mangled body flashed behind her eyelids then the strange symbol carved into her belly. Sara was transported back into the room and heard the drip, drip, drip of the woman’s blood onto the carpet. And then the whistling started.
She froze in terror.
She tried to look behind her, but she was paralyzed and knew she would die.
He would kill her just like the woman on the bed. She recognized the tune he whistled but couldn’t place it. The floorboard creaked behind her and a sharp pain exploded behind her eyes, plunging her back into the inky blackness.
She clawed her way back into consciousness, and her eyes flew open.
She blinked several times as the sun warmed her face and put her smile back on when she saw Johan step inside, joined by a woman in a white coat. As she came closer, Sara read her nametag, Dr. Nadal. Her brown eyes twinkled as she touched Sara’s shoulder.
“Happy to see you awake, Sara,” she said as she pushed the blood pressure cuff up her arm. She pumped it tight and read the results. “All looks normal here. I’ve ordered an MRI so we can make sure all’s good in that head of yours. You were out for quite some time. Mr. Luken said this has never happened to you before?”
Sara nodded. “Correct. Never. I’ve never blacked out like this.”
“Have you been having headaches?” Dr. Nadal asked as she shined a light into each eye.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
Dr. Nadal nodded. “Hopefully the scans will tell us something,” she said and checked her watch. “It should be another half an hour before the machine is ready for you. I’ll send in a nurse ten minutes before it’s your turn to give you a solution to drink,” she said and nodded to Johan. “She can have water right now.” She squeezed Sara’s arm, nodded to Johan again and left them alone.
“I don’t need an MRI,” Sara said and met his eyes. “You know that too, don’t you?”
“What do you think happened, Sara?”
“A ghost made contact and she entered my body, bringing her trauma with her. Other ghosts have tried to do the same before, but I always managed to keep them at bay.” She paused. “I saw death, pain, and evil. I’ve never seen or felt anything like that. The images come back each time I close my eyes. I think the power of her trauma knocked me o
ut.”
“Are you sure it was a ghost? I saw Louise Fairbanks grab your arm right before your seizure,” he said. “Have you ever heard of empaths?”
“People who are sensitive to other’s feelings?” she asked. She’d heard of people who had such abilities but had never met one.
“Among other things. And sensitivity is not the only gift empaths have,” he said.
“This isn’t that,” Sara said.
“You sure? You get images from touching objects and buildings. It was just a matter of time before the same happened with a human being.”
“The touch I use to see ghosts and memories from inanimate objects is totally different from being an empath, Johan. It’s not the same energy. Or that’s what you’ve always said.”
“It could have been a precursor to this new gift, and the shock you got from the trauma opened you up to it,” he explained.
“I don’t buy it, Johan,” she muttered as doubt gurgled in her belly. Her eyes flicked to his arm and wondered if she touched him, would she know his deepest secrets? She watched as his hand moved to hers and wasn’t sure if she wanted to know him that way.
“I need water. Could you get me some?” Sara asked, and Johan got up, concern evident in his eyes. “Thank you for staying with me,” she added.
“Always. Let me get you that water,” he said and left.
Sara sank back into the pillows, not knowing what to believe. She trusted him explicitly when it came to the paranormal, but she didn’t want to believe she had another gift to deal with. Seeing ghosts was scary enough, but seeing people’s most inner thoughts horrified her.
She left her mind churning in fear and focused her attention on her breathing. She had started taking mindfulness meditation classes to help deal with her everyday life. The meditation helped her build the walls that kept the noise down and protected her from the unseen. It helped most of the time. Today, though, she knew she was too weak to keep herself stable. Even the anxiety that lurked deep down after surviving the car accident that killed her parents had resurfaced and hit her with brute force. She took a shaky breath, and her extremities became ice-cold.
The hot flashes rolled in immediately. She pulled her attention to her breath, but the tidal wave of adrenaline hurling at her was too much. She gasped and clutched at the pillow and waited for the wave to crash. She closed her eyes and saw the dead woman. That wouldn’t work. She opened them again and locked her eyes on the view through the window.
Johan came back holding a glass of water just as she got her breathing down to a pant. He handed her the water. All she could do was nod in thanks, praying he wouldn’t notice the crazy look in her eyes.
“I don’t want you on this case, Sara. It feels off,” Johan said as she sipped the water.
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I’m part of it now. I’m not going to give up on Barbara,” she said knowing she didn’t sound too convincing.
“You’re not safe,” he said. She kept her eyes focused on the window and the everlasting blue sky of Los Angeles. “What if the ghost attempts to take you over again, if we go with your theory? What’s going to happen the next time in your weakened state?”
She shook her head, happy he was dropping the empath business temporarily.
“Then that’s the first thing I have to confront, don’t I? I can’t be a paranormal investigator if I’m consistently worried that I’ll black out the next time I make contact. I need to do this Johan. Please help me.”
“At least, you’re including me in this. I wanted to insist but, this way, we spend less time arguing.”
“I gotta get out of here first, Johan.”
“I’ll go find that doctor. We’re not doing anything without those MRI’s.”
Szymon marched with thirty other children singing the big anthem. He kept saying his new name to himself, just as Herr Gunther told him to, as he sang. Simon made sure to say his new name to himself at least twenty times. Maybe thirty. Simon Gerhard. Simon Gerhard. Simon Gerhard. He sang louder and with gusto.
Es zittern die morschen Knochen,
Der Welt vor dem großen Krieg,
Wir haben den Schrecken gebrochen,
Für uns war’s ein großer Sieg.
Simon still only understood several words. The song said something about bones and Germany, hearing them talk and victory. The boy next to him named Kasper stopped singing and turned to his neighbor, Alexander.
“What’s the next line?” Kasper asked. Alexander, eyes growing wide, shook his head but Simon knew it was too late. Herr Felix had already heard. The boys stopped in mid-march, and the song died down.
“Halten SINGING!” Herr Felix roared, and the boys started up again.
Wir werden weiter marschieren
Wenn alles in Scherben fällt,
Denn heute erhört uns Deutschland
Und morgen die ganze Welt.
Simon belted the words out while watching Herr Felix kick Kasper in the stomach. Kasper fell to the ground with a small grunt.
Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry, Simon said to himself. Herr Felix kicked him again, and Kasper took it like he was supposed to. Maybe he wouldn’t disappear tomorrow after all.
Simon made sure to never speak Polish anymore and memorized many German words. His German was getting better and better every day. Father was Vater, and Mother was Mutter, and he would have a new, better family soon. His real one.
Herr Gunther had said that he was a German orphan and he would get good, proper parents. German parents. Eine Familie. He would be a good Deutscher junge. He didn’t want to go to heaven like Mama and Papa and like some of the other children already had.
Simon. He smiled when he remembered to think his new name. He would be smart and make sure he never got in trouble. Papa told him last year he was a very smart boy, and he would not disappoint his papa.
Barney Leonard kept the manila folder close to his chest as he opened the door to Diane’s office. Detective Murphy and Detective Larson sat behind Diane’s ornate cherrywood desk, paperwork spread out before them.
“Mr. Barney Leonard?” Detective Larson asked, and Barney nodded while taking the seat across from them. “Thank you for coming to talk to us.”
“It’s about time you people came. Last time I spoke with one of you, they said they’d send someone out the next day,” he said and arched his eyebrow at the detective. “That was a month ago.”
“Right. We’ll get to that in a moment. But first, where were you the night of January twentieth?” the female detective interjected before he could continue.
“I was asleep like almost everyone else in the building. I’m not whom you want. I have called your precinct several times over the last three months as I said a second ago,” Barney said and paused for effect. “None of you wanted to speak with me then. I got the distinct impression that whoever took my calls thought I was some crazy old coot.” He patted the folder in his lap. “I have all my notes here.”
He opened up the folder and slid four yellow lined sheets of paper to them. “The deaths started about two and a half months ago. March had an unusual amount of deaths by heart attack. We all joked about it being such an unlucky month. We’re all old after all,” he said before they could mention the obvious.
Detective Murphy nodded and picked up the top page. Detective Larson opened his mouth to say something, but Barney put his hand up to stop him.
“I’m not done yet, sonny. It’s a fact we are old, but the people who died were healthy and had many good years ahead of them. Before she came, we had a death once every three months.”
Detective Larson frowned. “Who came?”
“Louise Fairbanks. The nurse we call Lou. Since she’s been here, there have been four deaths a month. The names and dates are on that list,” Barney said and waited. Diane had laughed him out of her office when he’d told her of his suspicions, but he had high hopes these detectives were at least smar
ter than her.
“How can you be sure all these deaths weren’t natural causes?” Detective Larson asked him. Apparently, they weren’t the sharpest detectives either, Barney thought.
“I knew these people. Everyone at Sunshine talks about their medical problems. It’s the most popular topic of conversation. Most of them check their blood pressure every hour, blood sugar after every meal. Health is no secret around here.”
“I find it hard to believe that none of these people on your list had heart troubles,” Detective Larson countered. Barney shook his head.
“Check the records yourself,” he said and noticed the woman glance at her partner. She must be the smarter of the two.
“Did you share your suspicions with anyone?” Detective Murphy asked in a modulated tone.
“Diane Lawrence. I told her.”
“And?” she prompted.
“She didn’t believe me,” Barney said and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He leaned back in the chair.
“It’s a serious accusation. Do you have any proof that Louise Fairbanks is the person responsible for these deaths?” she asked. “Maybe throwing the accusation at her is your way of deflecting attention from yourself.”
“We’ve heard of your love triangle between two of the women here, Barbara Monroe, the deceased, and Mary Ann McClatch,” Larson said and Barney stifled a laugh.
“Another thing you might not know about assisted living homes. Everyone sleeps with everyone else. We’ve got the time. That’s no reason to kill anyone. Lots of women here and I never slept around on Barbara. She was the love of my life. I’m not sure what Ms. McClatch told you, but there was never any triangle.”
“That gives Mary Ann McClatch a motive then, doesn’t it?” Detective Larson asked. Barney’s eyes dropped to his hands.
“No, it really doesn’t. Mary Ann is many things, but she isn’t a killer. And that doesn’t explain Lauren. You need to look into Louise Fairbanks. There is something going on with that woman, and she needs to be stopped.”
The Elk (A Caine & Murphy Paranormal Thriller Series Book 1) Page 14
