Tyson went over and took a seat. Anderson removed a notebook and a pen marked NYPD along the body.
“First off, can you tell me where you were last night at twelve thirty in the morning?”
“I was picking my son up from a friend’s place.”
“Why was he there?”
“Ruma had dropped him off earlier that evening.”
“Are you in the habit of picking your son up from the babysitter?”
“No, but when Ruma didn’t show up I got worried.”
“Worried she was with another man?”
“No, worried she’d forgotten him.”
“Do you remember leaving your ex-wife a message last night?”
Tyson paused. “Yes.”
“You were warning her that her life was in danger. Tyson…can I call you Tyson?”
“Sure.”
“Tyson, why was your wife in danger?”
“You wouldn’t believe me even in I told you.”
“Try me.”
Tyson ran an unsteady hand through his hair. “Detective Anderson, do you believe in the bogeyman?”
Anderson’s poker face was astounding. “You mean the bogeyman that hides under your bed, waiting to snatch at your feet? Sure, when I was a kid. Then I grew up and realized the world doesn’t need bogeymen. There are plenty of good people who do very bad things.”
Tyson was looking at the floor. “Are we almost done?”
“Almost,” Anderson said.
He had moved into Tyson’s personal space now and it was clear the detective wanted nothing more than to lock him up and throw away the key. “Can you tell me why Ruma might have gone to Sunnybrook Asylum two days ago?”
Surprise spread across Tyson’s face. It wasn’t lost on Detective Anderson.
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Your mother’s up there, isn’t she?”
“I don’t have a mother, Detective. But I’m sure you already knew that.”
“I see. One final question, if you’ll indulge me. I know you’ve been through a lot already.”
Tyson remained quiet, knowing Anderson’s query for permission was all part of his charade of politeness.
“It’s just puzzling to me that the bodies of both Ruma and Dr. Charles Stevens demonstrated a rather peculiar kind of oddity. Nothing the medical examiner had really seen before. See, in each case the flesh had been partially dissolved by a substance ten times more powerful than hydrochloric acid. A substance that we find in the natural world in only one other place.”
“Yeah, where’s that?” Tyson asked, knowing he was about to find out whether he wanted to or not.
Anderson was watching him keenly now. “The stomach of house flies.”
• • •
They were on the interstate, heading for Sunnybrook. In the back Kavi was staring off into empty space. Tyson hadn’t exactly told him straight out that his mother had been murdered. He had decided to tell his son instead that Ruma had gone to stay with the angels in heaven.
“When is she coming back?” he’d asked.
“Never, I’m afraid.” Tyson felt the tears welling up behind his eyes and did everything he could to strangle the emotion.
The never part wasn’t going over well. In the few hours since Tyson had told him, Kavi must have asked over a hundred times when his mother was coming home and why she’d decided to leave in the first place. The kinds of questions no parent likes answering. Since then Kavi had been sullen and Tyson worried that his son was burying the pain and confusion much the way he had done as a child.
“Shouldn’t you let the police handle this?” Judy asked. She was referring to their trip to Sunnybrook and Tyson’s burning desire to get some much needed answers.
“On my way to the medical examiner’s office I was beating the crap out of myself. I pray that in your life you never have to see what I saw. But the note Ruma had on her. It put a serious doubt into my head that maybe everything that’s happening isn’t completely my fault.”
“What do you mean?”
“My nightmares started on the same day my mother went into a coma.”
Tyson caught sight of Kavi in the back, watching him.
Judy had been quiet for a moment. “So her coma caused your nightmares, is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m not sure. But I’m hoping that whoever Ruma spoke to at Sunnybrook might know. If this thing gets loose again I’m scared of what it’s liable to do.”
Kavi was still watching him. The toy car in his hands had fallen to his feet and lay there forgotten.
“Did you sleep well, Buzz?” Tyson asked him.
Kavi didn’t respond.
“What do you think of all these trees? Did you know there are trees in California that are over five thousand years old?” Tyson paused, waiting for a response that never came.
He raised his voice a little, hoping the sound of authority would shake the cobwebs loose in Kavi’s head. “Son, I’m talking to you.”
“Tyson, he’s been through enough…”
Tyson ignored Judy’s plea. “When an adult asks you a question, you answer them.”
For a moment, Kavi’s eyes seemed to clear. “Mommy said not to do that anymore, not after I talked to the woman.”
“Woman? What woman do you mean, Buzz?”
Judy reached behind her and laid a hand on Kavi’s tiny knee. “Tyson, what are you doing to the poor boy? In case you haven’t noticed he’s been through hell in the last twenty-four hours, maybe we should just let him sleep.”
“He’s been sleeping since he found out.”
“And the dark rings under his eyes? If you push him too far the stress is liable to lower his immune system. He could end up catching some kind of bacterial infection or who knows, maybe even that H1N1. It’s still going around, you know.”
“You’re starting to sound like—” The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. It wasn’t Judy’s fault, somewhere deep down he knew that, but her words had sounded like a ghostly echo from a past he had never really stopped running from.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, feeling self-conscious.
“Nothing. Just for a moment you sounded like someone else. I guess I’m just trying so hard to make right what’s happened and I don’t know how else to do it.”
They flew past a sign along the interstate.
Sunnybrook. 1 MILE.
Tyson pulled off the highway and onto what quickly became a gravel road. It couldn’t have been longer than a minute or two before they heard the gasp from the back seat. Tyson could see Kavi’s mouth formed into a perfect O. He was staring at something in the distance and it was only when Tyson followed his son’s frightened expression that he saw the tip of what was surely Sunnybrook Asylum poking through the trees.
Judy was back at her mother hen impression again “Sweetie, what’s wrong? You feeling sick? Here, lemme check your forehead.”
“He’s been here before,” Tyson said quickly.
“What?”
“Detective Anderson asked me why Ruma might have come to Sunnybrook, but he never mentioned anything about Kavi being with her.”
Tyson could see that Kavi was listening and on some level probably understood what they were saying. That popular old expression about little pitchers having big ears suddenly came to mind and he chided himself for not being more careful earlier when he’d been speaking about Ruma.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Buzz?”
Kavi nodded. “I didn’t hit a button, you know.”
Tyson made a right hand turn. “What do you mean you didn’t hit a button?”
“The man in the long coat said I hit a button that keeps the woman breathing but I didn’t.”
“I believe you.”
“I don’t want to see her.”
“That’s fine. Was one of the nurses mean to you, Buzz?”
Kavi didn’t answer.
“Listen, I can’t help you out unless I know
who you’re talking about.”
“The woman lying in the bed. She kept asking me all sorts of questions.”
Tyson and Judy stared at each other in silence. “Are you sure you spoke to her, Buzz, she’s in a coma?”
Kavi was quiet.
“Do you know what a coma is?” Judy asked, reaching for his hand.
Kavi nodded. “It’s when you’re sleeping and you can’t wake up.”
“Right,” Tyson said. “Now listen, you’re not in trouble son, but it’s very important. Did you speak to this woman?”
Kavi’s voice was almost a whisper. “Yes.”
“And what did she ask you?”
“She kept calling me by your name, Daddy. Over and over she kept saying it. I didn’t tell this to Mommy when she asked me, cause Mommy was already mad at me, but the woman in the bed kept saying ‘I miss you, Tyson, I miss you so much.’”
Tyson suddenly felt queasy. “Was that all she said?”
Kavi shook his head. “I don’t really know what it means, but she said: I want you back.”
• • •
Tyson was talking to a middle aged black man behind the security desk. “My ex-wife was here the other day, Ruma… Barr…no, Chaudhuri,” he added a second later, hoping that might clear away the blank expression on the man’s face.
“Oh yes, came in with a cute little boy, didn’t she?”
Tyson guided Kavi out from behind his leg.
“Yeah, I remember her quite well. She was here to see Dr. Bowes.”
Tyson saw the man’s name tag now for the first time. “Terrance, it’s very important that I speak with him.”
The smile on Terrance’s face withered.
Tyson frowned. “Don’t tell me he’s not available.”
“I’m afraid Dr. Bowes hasn’t been around since this morning.”
Tyson’s fists were clenching when Judy stepped forward and leaned in. She was smiling and Terrance was smiling now too, whether he wanted to or not. “We’ve come all the way from New York City,” she said, biting her lower lip. “On your website, I saw a Dr. Hunter under Dr. Bowes’ name. Is there a chance we might speak with him?”
Even from here Tyson couldn’t help admiring the way her mouth moved when she spoke.
Terrance’s eyes fell to some indiscernible point on his desk. His left hand was down by his waist, fiddling with the oversized set of keys on his belt.
“Give me a moment, folks. I’ll see what I can do.”
• • •
Ten minutes later they were sitting opposite Dr. Hunter. He was speaking animatedly to someone on the phone, all the while mouthing the words to them: “Won’t be more than a minute.” The doctor’s eyes were wild and on the verge of bulging from their sockets.
There was something disquieting about Dr. Hunter’s office and Tyson couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Wasn’t much more than a glorified shoe box really. Warm light from an antique banker’s lamp should have made the place feel like home. So what was making the skin on Tyson’s arms crawl? And he wasn’t the only one. Kavi was sitting on Judy’s lap, his arms locked around her neck in an apparent death grip. Was the boy simply in shock after losing his mother? He hadn’t had time yet to digest some of the things Kavi had told him in the car, not the least of which was having had a conversation with a coma patient. But how believable was that?
Probably about as believable as your nightmares coming to life and killing your ex-wife and a drug test coordinator.
It wasn’t until Dr. Hunter had finished his conversation and went to hang up the phone that Tyson knew something was terribly wrong. Was that the operator’s voice he had heard coming from the receiver as Hunter had replaced the handset?
“Please hang up and try your call again…please hang up…”
The crazy fuck wasn’t speaking to anyone, was he? All this time and he was speaking into a dead line. Is this guy a doctor or a patient?
“So how may I help you?” The weak smile on Hunter’s face only accentuated the premature ageing lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. Tyson guessed he couldn’t have been older than say twenty-eight or twenty-nine, but from here, the man appeared to be pushing fifty.
“Tyson is it?”
Tyson remained quiet.
“Terrance downstairs already phoned to announce your arrival. How can I help you?”
“My wife was here the other day…”
Dr. Hunter was staring at Judy now and something about the expression on his face said that he had no intention of looking away anytime soon.
Tyson felt a pin prick of jealousy.
“Listen to me,” Tyson heard himself say. “My wife is…gone and this was the last place anyone remembers seeing her before that happened, so you can understand if I’m looking for some answers from you.”
“The police were already here earlier and asked Dr. Bowes and me a number of pointed questions. Frankly, I’m not sure there’s much I can tell you that will be helpful. In fact, Dr. Bowes was so distraught with his handling by the police that he disappeared shortly after and hasn’t been seen since.”
Hunter’s gaze was ping-ponging between Judy and Kavi now and Tyson’s level of discomfort and annoyance was beginning to peak.
“How severe is this coma she’s in?”
“Who, Brenda?”
“Of course Brenda,” Tyson snapped. “Who else?”
Hunter’s index finger tapped against the phone receiver. “Glasgow level three. The least responsive of any level.”
“My son here says that he spoke with her, when he came with Ruma. That she was asking him questions. Is this possible?”
A strange look came over Hunter’s face as he pretended to consider the question. Then a crooked smile distorted his already disturbing features. “We had a nurse report she’d seen your mother sitting up in bed last night, but you’ll have to believe me when I tell you that’s quite impossible.”
“Sitting up?”
“It sounds amazing I know, but frankly, in a situation like Brenda’s where you have someone lying immobile for such a long duration, it isn’t uncommon for people to begin hearing strange voices and seeing things that aren’t real. As humans we’re surrounded by a bustle of activity all day long, so it isn’t a stretch to project that onto someone who’s rather inanimate.”
Tyson nodded in agreement, growing more and more certain that this guy wasn’t quite right in the head. “And how long has she been like this? When did it start?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I have a note in Ruma’s handwriting that says it started in September; was this information Dr. Bowes gave her?”
“He might have,” Hunter lied. “But why is that important?”
Because it’s starting to look like ever since that coma of hers, she’s been dancing a merry jig in his subconscious mind. But what was he going to do, open himself to ridicule before a man who was clearly unhinged?
“I’d like to see her,” Tyson said instead.
“I’m afraid that’s quite impossible.”
“You let Ruma and Kavi in, so why can’t I. I’m her son, goddamnit!”
“Please, Mr. Barrett. We’re conducting a series of tests on her and I’d have to clear it with Dr. Bowes first.”
He was lying and Tyson could almost smell the bullshit wafting in the air between them.
“Then I’d like to see her medical file.”
Dr. Hunter laughed. “Only Dr. Bowes has those files and as I mentioned before he’s not here.”
“No problem. Tell me where he is and I’ll pay him a visit.”
Hunter’s face darkened and for a frightening moment Tyson wasn’t sure if it was the poor lighting in the doctor’s tiny office or whether that expression spoke of something far more sinister. “As I mentioned, Doctor Bowes is indisposed at the moment, but I’ll be more than happy to pass the message along to him.”
Chapter 31
Less than thirty minutes later, Elias Hunter was snak
ing through the bowels of Sunnybrook Asylum. Sub Section Three—or S3—was the deepest part of the hospital. The corridors were long and dark and overhead lay Sunnybrook’s entrails: water mains, heating and cooling ducts and an assortment of other pipes crammed in along the low ceiling. This was the last place anyone wanted to come and precisely the reason he was here. A few of the interns whispered among themselves about seeing ghosts stalk these hallways. The victims of psychiatry’s more questionable past. One such story had it that a young male attendant was tasked with storing two broken beds in the basement when he saw a man come shambling toward him from out of the darkness. He was wearing a torn hospital gown and had three small holes in his skull where the screws from a head clamp had been. The attendant had glanced down for no longer than a second to fetch the radio at his side and when he looked up, the man was gone.
Hunter had feigned fright upon hearing the tale, but it would take more than ghost stories, clangy generators and a bunch of leaky steam ducts to scare him. It wasn’t long before Hunter realized he could use the general fear and apprehension for Sunnybrook’s basement to his advantage. Unlike the world above, this was not the kind of place people would be poking their noses around on a regular basis.
Hunter made a right hand turn. Ahead of him, the hallway disappeared into shadow. But he wasn’t far now. He had found it almost by accident. What looked to him like a secret ward hidden away in the basement, once complete with beds and an operating theatre right next door. Of course his discrete inquiries hadn’t been able to shed much light on the kinds of operations that were going on down here, but Hunter thought he knew just the same. The apparition in the hallway had filled in that blank rather nicely.
Hunter came to a locked door, reached into his pocket, removed a single key and let himself in.
The man lashed to the chair by thick reams of duct tape turned to him at once. A length of tape covered his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying to speak. Although from here it looked far more like yelling.
“I can’t hear you,” Hunter said as he approached. Dried blood caked the man’s face. Resting on the mayo stand next to him was a carpenter’s drill. The man’s eyes were bulging from their sockets, flitting between Hunter and the drill and Hunter was sure if he removed the tape the man would resume that annoying little habit he had developed of pleading for his life.
Dark Passage Page 17
