by Craig Taylor
Detective Ravenbrook stood up and extended his hand. They shook. It was the first time she had really looked at all of him, rather than just his face. He was a little taller than she, about five foot eleven inches. He was in shape. He kept his dark hair short in a military cut. The top was spiked but rounded. He had five o’clock shadow, which she thought suited him perfectly. His dark brown eyes were warm, his smile friendly. She guessed he was in his early thirties.
“If I can help out with anything else, let me know,” she told him.
He reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a business card. She read it. Detective David Ravenbrook. David, she liked that.
“Ravenbrook. That’s an interesting name,” she said.
“Yeah, I get that a bit,” he said. “It goes back to my English ancestors.”
“I don’t know much about my ancestors,” she said. “Only that they came from somewhere in Europe.”
He smiled again. “Listen, if you do call me, just use my cell phone number. With three investigations to overview I’m not in the office much.”
“No problem,” she replied.
She watched him walk out of her office. Not too bad from behind either, she thought. His suit was a little old and ruffled, but fit him well.
She decided she was going to stop at the gym on the way home, and get a bottle of wine for dinner. After putting her files away and locking her office, she made her way to Jason’s room. She showed her identification to the officer at his door and went in. He was sound asleep.
Chapter Twelve
By the time she got to her car, Patricia decided she was far too tired for the gym. She went straight home, after the supermarket wine aisle. She showered and changed into sweats, prepared a light chicken salad for dinner, and sat on the sofa with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and watched television.
She lived alone; had done so for some time. When she broke off an engagement, she moved into the two bedroom apartment in the central business district, and loved it. It was walking distance to the hospital and gym, close to shops, although she didn’t shop much, close to cafés and restaurants and, more importantly, it was quiet.
It was a building the city had listed as ‘historic’ so the owners couldn’t do anything to it without council approval. It had no elevator which appealed to artists and doctors. Artists chose it because of the classic structure, doctors because of its proximity to the hospital. The phone rang, making her jump.
“Hello?”
“Hi, is this Doctor Leland?” the male caller asked.
“Yes, who is this?” she asked.
“This is Detective Ravenbrook. I’m sorry to call you at home and this late, but I’m just tying up a few loose ends and wondered if you had thought of anything you could pass on to us in regards to the cases.”
“No,” she replied. “I told you there was nothing I could think of and I’ve not thought of anything since.”
“Okay, well thank you for your time. I’ll leave you to your privacy.”
“How did you get my home number?”
“You gave it to the other detectives,” he replied. “Good night.”
“Good night, detective.”
Patricia thought it was very odd. She had spoken to him less than three hours ago and told him what she could. It wasn’t much, but there wasn’t much to say yet. She secretly hoped he might have called to ask her out but lost his nerve.
“I can dream,” she said to herself, exhaling loudly.
About half an hour later she went to bed. She lay there, looking through old photo albums. It helped her to sleep. She thought it was because she felt trapped in her last relationship, and she wanted to feel that freedom she felt when she left him, which would relax her.
The photos were of her and Adam and their friends, mostly at parties. They were laughing and joking around. One particular photo always caught her attention: it showed her and Adam dancing at one of his work functions. The photographer had caught the moment they looked each other in the eye. He was deeply in love and it showed. She wasn’t and it showed. Not long after that, she left.
Adam took it hard and abused her. He demanded his engagement ring back and told her he never wanted to see her again. She hadn’t seen him since. His parents weren’t very friendly afterwards. They saw her in Starbucks, waved briefly, then walked out.
She closed the photo album and slid it under her bed, turned the light off and was asleep within five minutes.
A loud bang woke her up. It sounded like someone on the fire escape outside her window. She was on the third floor, but an old metal fire escape ran up the side of the building. Usually the sliding ladder on the second floor was up, out of reach from anyone on the ground, so she assumed it was her neighbor’s cat again. It was a cute little grey, fluffy ball and she loved it, but not at three in the morning. It had a habit of sitting on her windowsill and scratching at the glass.
She got out of bed, lifted the window up and poked her head out. She had only just fallen asleep and was drowsy and confused. A cold wind chilled her as she stood there in a light pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. A shiver ran down her spine, making her squirm on the spot.
Someone just ran over my grave, she thought.
There was no one there. No cat either. She looked down and saw the fire escape was still out of reach of the ground.
Just as she was about to close the window, she saw a figure across the street. The street lights on the corner weren’t working and the figure stood in the dark, but she could make someone out. It looked like they were looking up at her. She couldn’t see their eyes, but got that feeling from the shadow.
The figure didn’t move, just stood there, and so did she, watching. A feeling of dread built in her. She got nervous. The figure remained, still and quiet. She decided it was time to call the police.
She left the window and grabbed her cell phone. She dialed as she walked back to the window. The operator answered.
“State emergency service required. Fire, police or ambulance.”
“Uh...sorry, I misdialed,” Patricia answered. She stared out the window and across the road. The figure was gone and the streetlights were glowing, brightly illuminating the corner.
She went back to bed, but couldn’t fall asleep again. There was no way she imagined what she had just seen. Eventually, she fell into a light, fitful sleep where she dreamed of dark, caped figures, a dream she hadn’t had since she was a child.
The next morning Patricia felt wiped out. If she could have managed it, she wouldn’t have gone in to work, but there was too much to be done, too many patients relying on her. The work would just build up and be waiting there when she got back.
On her way in she stopped at Starbucks and brought the biggest Latte they had. When she got to the hospital, she saw Detective Ravenbrook talking to the front desk receptionist. She was surprised to see him there again, but with three investigations to oversee he had to cover everything.
He didn’t see her. She didn’t want to go over and talk to him when she had nothing further to add, so she walked to the elevator and went up to her floor. She stepped out and nearly walked into the old janitor.
“Sorry, Alan,” she laughed, almost spilling her coffee on him.
He smiled at her. “Careful, Patricia. I’ve got two years before I retire, I don’t want to get third degree burns, thank you.”
She kept on walking, but he called out to her.
“Oh by the way, you should lock your office door when you leave at night. There are a lot of people who come through here.”
She turned around. “I did lock it.”
He shook his head and carried on, pushing his cart down the hall. Patricia walked quickly to her office.
The door was ajar. She inspected the lock, but it didn’t appear to have been forced. The office w
as just as she left it. She could see the entire space from the doorway. Her desk appeared how she left it. She decided it wasn’t another hospital employee. It all seemed ok.
Then she saw the filing cabinet. Initially it had looked all right, but now she noticed the top drawer was slightly open. When she got closer she saw the lock had been popped and was hanging on by a piece of metal. It was a weak lock anyway. It was more of a hindrance than prevention. A small screw driver could easily force it.
She opened the drawer with her sleeve over her fingers and looked in. There were a lot of files in the upright folders. She would have to compare her list with the remaining files. She picked up the phone and called security to report the break-in, then had a thought just as they answered.
“When I walked in this morning, there was a Detective Ravenbrook at reception. Could you get him to call someone from his unit to come in as well, please? Someone has been in my office files. He may be able to get them here quicker than if we report it. God knows this will take me most of the day.”
When she got off the phone, Patricia had another thought and crossed back to the cabinet. She searched the ‘H’ section and found Jason Hansen’s file missing. She didn’t know what prompted her to specifically check his file, but it got her worried.
Just then her phone rang. It was the security officer she had just spoken to.
He spoke before she could even say hello. “I just spoke to that detective you mentioned and he said he’s a little busy right now with the missing boy. I guess he...”
Patricia cut him off. “What missing boy?”
“Oh you didn’t hear?” he asked. “That boy who the intruder was after is missing. A nurse just noticed this morning. Most of the security guards are searching the grounds to give the police a hand. I guess that’s why the detective was here when you saw him this morning.”
Patricia was incensed. “I’m his doctor! Why wasn’t I informed of this?”
The guard sounded embarrassed. “I’m sorry; I thought I’d informed everyone. I must have skipped your name when they gave me the list to call. I’m really sorry.”
Patricia shook her head, exasperated. She was about to say something when he continued.
“I can give you some information now if you’d like.”
“What do you know?” she asked.
“Well, I can tell you the uniformed officer who was on the door got a call from his squad and was told a serious assault had just taken place in Emergency. He was ordered there and was to hold the fort until a unit could be dispatched. Apparently it was a busy night for them last night.”
“What else?” Patricia asked.
“It was about 11.30pm. The officer didn’t return to guard duty because his replacement arrived while he was still at the E.R. The new guy didn’t look into the room; he just assumed the boy was still in there. The cop I spoke to said there was no sign of struggle. They’re waiting for the tech guy to come in and look at the camera footage.”
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Ahh, yeah. If I hear anything else, you’ll be the first one I call.”
“That would be different,” she said before hanging up. She went down to reception and found Detective Ravenbrook talking to another officer.
“Can I talk to you?” she asked.
He excused himself from the other officer and followed her to a seating area. They sat. She spoke quietly. “I’ve just been informed by one of our inept security guards that Jason Hansen is missing.”
Ravenbrook nodded. “As far as we can tell he went missing between 23:30 hours last night, when the officer on guard went to a serious assault in the E.R. and 23:45 when his replacement arrived.”
“Do you think he’s okay?” she asked, but continued before he could respond. “I mean, do you think the disappearance is related to the man who tried to kill him?”
Ravenbrook shrugged. “We don’t know. We have no idea who he is. We took his fingerprints from his corpse, but he’s not in the system, he had no identification on him whatsoever, no one has reported a missing person, and we’ve had no response from the public. This could be related, or it may be a coincidence.”
“You don’t believe that do you?” she asked. “I mean a man whom no one has ever heard of sneaks into the hospital dressed as a doctor, attempts to kill a child, and then the same child goes missing within hours.”
Ravenbrook shook his head. “I think it’s related, but I’m hoping it’s not.”
“One more thing,” Patricia said. “My office was broken in to last night and Jason’s file was stolen. I don’t know if any others are taken, but his certainly was.”
David’s cell phone rang. He excused himself and answered it. He didn’t say a word; he just listened to the caller, then closed his phone.
“I have to go,” he told her. “I’ll call you later if I hear anything.”
“What’s being done about Jason?” she asked. “How many officers are on the case?”
David pointed to the officer he had just been speaking to. “Ask him, he’s the lead detective. He’ll tell you everything he can. Now, I have to go.”
Patricia walked over to the other detective. “Excuse me, I was just talking to that detective over there and...” but Ravenbrook was gone and she found herself pointing at no one.
“I’m Patricia Leland. I’m Jason Hansen’s psychiatrist. Can you tell me what’s being done to find him?
Chapter Thirteen
Patricia worked most of the day checking her patient files. After cross-referencing the list versus the files, she found the only file taken was Jason’s, but she had already known that. She had no idea why; she just knew that would be the result.
She tended to listen to her gut feelings. She had a sense about things, and often would remember dreaming or seeing in her mind events happening weeks, sometimes months earlier. Not like lottery numbers or major events, just things to do with herself and those around her. She remembered how, about a year ago, she had an extremely bad feeling about a flight she was scheduled to take for a speaking engagement. When she walked into the airport terminal and looked at the departures board she felt uneasy. When she saw her flight number, the hairs on the back of her neck literally stood on end. She cancelled her ticket, and that night on the evening news, she sat in stunned silence while the anchor man said that plane crashed in farmland not long after takeoff, and no survivors were found.
Often she would be talking to people and have a strong sense of déjà vu, but she always set it aside as something people often felt.
Her great Aunt Beatrice once told her she might be psychic and should develop her skills. Of course, everyone knew Aunt Beatrice was crazy; she had even told everyone that she was the creator of crop circles. Even a fourteen-year-old Patricia couldn’t believe that much.
The detective Patricia spoke to that morning after talking with Ravenbrook had promised to call her to update her on Jason’s missing-persons case, but it was already six p.m. and he hadn’t made contact. She decided to ring him.
She couldn’t believe how fast the day had gone. She realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and thought about cooking herself a nice steak that night. She had a recipe for a beautiful steak and brown rice dish with salsa. While she waited for the detective to answer, she made a list of ingredients she would need to pick up for this on the way home.
Just as she was about to disconnect, the phone was picked up.
“Yes, Detective McDonald speaking.”
“Hello detective, this is Doctor Leland speaking, we met at the hospital this morning. I’m Jason Hanson’s doctor. I was just wondering if you had any news yet.”
“No, unfortunately we don’t. We checked for the camera footage, and discovered it hasn’t worked on that wing for six weeks. It was scheduled for repair, but I guess you docs neede
d more stethoscopes.”
She ignored the remark. “Have you made any headway whatsoever?”
“No. Naturally we’re getting more concerned as the hours tick by. We’ve had no ransom demands from an abductor, no sightings of a lost boy, no anonymous calls. Combined with the fact someone tried to kill him recently, killing his mother and also his father’s murder, it is extremely worrying.”
“Where to from here?” she asked.
“Well, it’s not up to me, but I think we’re going to the media now, get his picture and story out there and keep trying to contact any relatives. Sometimes a relative just takes them and doesn’t think to tell anyone, but we‘re confident that’s not the story here. I have to go now, Doctor Leland. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you, but as you can imagine we’re pretty busy here trying to solve this.”
“No problem,” she replied. “I’ll touch base with you tomorrow if you don’t mind, though.”
“Not at all. If we get anything, I’ll let you know.”
When she hung up, Patricia decided to call Detective Ravenbrook. She thought he may have made some headway in regards to the link between the incidents. She found his business card in her handbag and called his office number. The phone beeped. No such number. She tried again, thinking she had dialed it wrong, but got the same result.
She dialed his cell phone next. It rang, but he didn’t answer. She expected an answering message, but when it rang over a minute, she hung up. She decided to ring Detective McDonald back to see if he could help get hold of him. She didn’t want to be an annoyance to them, but she wanted to be kept in the loop.
The phone was picked up straight away. “Hello, Detective Johnson speaking.”
“Hello, is Detective McDonald there please.”
“No I’m sorry, he’s just left. Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m trying to contact Detective Ravenbrook. Do you know how I can get a hold of him?”
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “There’s no Detective Ravenbrook at this station.”
