by Adam Zorzi
“Mr. Cox, you gave a statement to the police at the time of the murder and you were deposed before the murder trial of Larry Yarbrough six months ago. I'll ask you again, what were your duties that shift?”
“Same as always,” Cox muttered.
“Itemize them,” Mark demanded.
Cox rolled his shoulders and stared at the wall as if he might find an answer there. He finally said, “Cover the shift from seven at night to seven in the morning.”
“Mr. Cox, you have a job description, do you not?”
“I dunno.”
Mark didn't lose his temper. He signaled the court reporter to stop. “We're going off the record.”
Mark leaned forward across the table and spoke directly to Cox. “You're not on the clock. Your shift may end in forty-five minutes, but we don't stop until we're satisfied. You can play games or you can answer truthfully and completely. It's your choice as to how long that takes.”
Cox shrugged. “I can use the OT.”
“The only person in this room who gets overtime pay is the court reporter. You're here under a judge's order. Failure to comply gets you a night or two in prison until you can be arraigned on contempt charges. Not the Petersburg jail. One of the federal facilities in Hopewell. You'll be in the high or low security prison, whichever has room. I don't care whether your fellow inmates are crooked stock brokers or violent kidnappers because I'm not going to spend time with them. You are. You won't be drawing a paycheck while in prison, Mr. Cox. Now, do we proceed on the record or do I call a federal marshal?”
Mark suddenly had Cox's full attention and cooperation.
“Back on the record.”
Mark asked Cox questions about his duties during a shift, the number of patients he oversaw, and what his instructions were if a patient presented a problem. Bella sat quietly. Mark was commanding in his role.
“Under what circumstances was Mr. Yarbrough admitted?”
“What?” Cox's lack of understanding was genuine.
“Who brought him to the ward?” Mark rephrased.
“Two security officers.”
“Is that unusual? Doesn't someone from admitting bring patients back?”
“Yeah, usually it's admitting, but he was really screwed up. Big sucker too. Thrashing and screaming. High on something. Security unlocked the door and shoved him inside.”
“Did you go through the usual procedures such as providing him scrubs, taking and inventorying his clothes and personal effects and putting them in a locker, and securing him in his room?”
“Hell, no. I wasn't going to mess with him. He was rabid.” Cox's shoulders hunched forward as it trying to protect himself from that memory.
“Did you call someone to report that you had an unstable patient on the ward?”
Cox laughed. “Who would I call? There were always unstable patients on the ward.”
“Patients as unstable as Mr. Yarbrough?”
“Not quite as bad as him, but the druggies get adrenaline going and nobody can mess with them.”
“No one? Couldn't you call security?” Mark's disbelief was palpable.
“They wouldn't respond.” Cox seemed pleased to have insider information on how things worked at Commonwealth Psych.
“Why do you say that?”
“They never do with a druggie. They get him to the hospital and on the ward and that's it.”
“Were there specific instances you recall where you had troublesome patients, you called security, and no one responded?”
“Every weekend.”
“Is that an exaggeration?” Mark wanted precise answers on the record.
“No, sir.” Cox went on a twenty-minute rant of all the times he'd called security and they hadn't come when he first started working there. He eventually learned not to bother them. Employees who disturbed security for junkies had been known to come off shift to find their car tires slashed or their media players missing from the dashboard.
Bella wanted to choke someone. Every avenue of investigation led to another group charged with patient safety who willfully disregarded their duties. She'd thought they'd get enough from Cox to corroborate the longer security tape for which he might face criminal charges. Now, she was hearing that even security turned a blind eye to patients in distress. She was furious that Cox hadn’t called security because it was pointless.
Mark had established a rhythm with Cox and wasn't going to take a break. She settled herself to be backup.
“Did Mr. Yarbrough ask for your assistance?”
“He yelled that he was hot. He took off all his clothes and ran around looking for fans. At first, I spoke through the intercom and told him there weren't any fans and the central air-conditioner was on. He wanted a window unit. Like he had a window to put it in. I just put my headphones on and ignored him.”
“Mr. Cox, in your experience did Mr. Yarbrough seem better or worse than the usual patient on drugs?”
He paused before answering. “Worse. He kept at it for so long. Usually, they wear themselves out after about an hour, but he was like that battery bunny. Going on and on and on.”
“Did you call a doctor to sedate him?”
There was that laugh again. “The golden rule is never call the docs. Ever. Well, maybe if the place was burning down. No. I'd call the Fire Department for that. No, we weren't supposed to call the docs.”
“Was this a formal policy?”
“You mean like was it written down somewhere?”
“Yes.”
“I doubt it. Maybe on a yellow sticky note somewhere, but it was more like insider information. I replaced a girl who’d called a doc for a patient who overdosed. She was terminated because she wasn't capable of making proper assessments. That's how I got hired.”
“What about the doctors in the hospital's ER?”
“We never had anything to do with them.” Cox looked astonished at the thought of interacting with the ER.
“Back to the night Evan Cooper died. Did you see Mr. Yarbrough go in and out of his room?”
“Sure. He went in everyone's room on that hall.”
Bella, who was rarely surprised, was stunned. Daniel had been at risk. Every patient on that ward had been at risk. The surveillance tape had probably been edited to show Yarbrough only going into Evan Cooper's room. She was deep in thought when she realized Mark was speaking to her.
“Do you have any questions for Mr. Cox?”
“Yes,” she said. “Did other patients on that ward call you for assistance or medication that night?”
Cox had the grace to look ashamed. “Yes, but I told them to wait until morning. I wasn't going out there with him raging around. I didn't think they should come out of their rooms, either. A missed pill here or there wouldn't make a difference.”
“So, you neglected all the other patients because of Mr. Yarbrough?”
“Sure did, ma'am. If you'd have seen him, you'd have done the same thing.”
“It was your relief shift that found Mr. Cooper?”
“Yes, three of them came on shift at seven in the morning. I told them they had their hands full. He was still running around buck naked.”
“You left at the end of your shift?”
“Yes, ma'am. I was glad to get out of there.”
Bella looked at Mark and indicated she had no additional questions. She couldn't stand to hear anymore.
***
Bella and Mark walked silently to the car. Without asking, Mark pointed the jaguar south and flew down two-lane roads. Bella didn't feel purged until they had driven at least forty miles away. Mark drove with a hardened face for another twenty miles. He pulled into the driveway of a single-story brick house set far back from the road with a For Sale sign dangling from one hinge and stopped. Fallen leaves covered dead grass and did nothing for the property's curb appeal.
His face relaxed, and he looked at Bella. “I feel better. How about you?”
She nodded. She couldn't speak.
He offered a bottle of water to her, but Bella declined. He took a few sips himself. “Let's take a walk,” he said. “The house looks vacant. Let's try the driveway and hope we don't get shot.”
Bella almost laughed before she realized it was entirely possible for a homeowner in a rural area to have a shotgun at the ready for trespassers. She was safe, but she didn't want Mark in harm's way.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
He shrugged. “We're potential purchasers trying to get a closer look before calling the realtor.”
They walked up the long drive without incident. There were no signs of life. No cars, bikes, or ATVs. No garbage can in the rack by the garage. A rusted mailbox lay on its side on the brick front porch. They sat on the steps.
“I was surprised,” Bella said. “I didn't see that coming.”
“No way did I expect him to say there was an unwritten policy to ignore patients in any condition on the night shift. Out of control. Sick. Seizing.”
“Do you think we need to confirm the woman he replaced was fired for calling a doctor?” Bella asked. “Opal can easily find her name and current job.”
“No,” Mark said. “Cox believed that's why she was fired. He didn't have to be correct in that belief. We don't want to get sidetracked.”
She'd taught him well. He was focused. He was looking at the end game and how to get there most directly.
Bella put her hand on Mark's. “We've got to see that tape. Yarbrough's prosecution was based on surveillance that showed him fixated on Evan Cooper's room. There was nothing about Yarbrough going into the rooms of other patients. I wonder if anyone else was hurt. He could have hit or choked other patients. Nothing was in the transcript about the condition of other patients on the ward. They might have had bruises or contusions or worse.”
Mark exhaled slowly. “I'll reach out to my friend on the Petersburg PD. I'll get the warrant when we get back even if I have to go to Judge King's house. My friend can execute it first thing tomorrow morning before anyone knows about it. Once we have it, we can see for ourselves what went down that night.”
He shook his head in disgust.
Bella squeezed his hand. “Mark, you're doing a great job. Evan Cooper's family is being represented by the best. You'll win big for them. You don't have to take on all the fallout. Let someone else put together a class action for all patients in the hospital that night. Someone else can investigate corruption in the Dinwiddie County prosecutor's office. The United State Attorney's office can bring criminal charges against the state for their role in Evan Cooper's murder. Someone else can appeal Yarbrough's conviction. It's not all on you. We're almost there.”
He raised her hand and kissed it. He held it on the walk back to the car.
CHAPTER
FORTY-FIVE
All Hallows' Eve
There were only two people left on the list of homeless ghosts. Big had found resting places for the fifteen souls who remained after the first meeting. Bella and Big met to discuss their final plan.
“How are you holding up?” Bella asked.
“Good. Once you gave me the current locations I needed, it wasn't difficult to get the souls there. All were happy, or at least at peace. Having locations for the family cemeteries for those who couldn't go back helped. Three nineteenth century women had trouble understanding that an airport or cineplex or subdivision now sat on the site of their family farm. Taking them to cemeteries where their families were buried was the next best thing. One found her parents and the other two found their husbands and children.”
“I'm so pleased. It's heartbreaking how they were treated. They were never told anything about the people they loved.”
They both bowed their heads.
“Let's see what we can do for the remaining two,” Bella said. “Who are they?”
“Mary is a thirteen-year-old girl who died from an epileptic seizure in 1915. When her parents discovered she had epilepsy at age eight, they committed her and never looked back.
“The young man—Bobby—died in a knife fight that broke out on his ward in 1959. He was twenty and had been here for two years. He and his girlfriend from the right side of the tracks eloped and were married in North Carolina. The girlfriend's father tracked them down, had the marriage annulled, and had Bobby committed as an undesirable. Bobby said the girlfriend sent him a letter saying she'd been wrong to marry him and was glad her father had made her see reason. She said she was marrying the heir to a pharmaceutical company. Bobby still wants her back.”
Sad. Such sad stories. Bella thought Bobby would be the easiest to help. “He would be in his late seventies had he lived in human form. If the girlfriend was about the same age, she's probably still alive. Does he know the name of the man she married?”
“Maybe. He was just told an heir to a fortune. Bobby had an idea which fortune it was. He knew who the father had in mind for his girlfriend.”
“Don't you think the girlfriend wrote the letter under duress if she wrote it at all?”
“Probably. Bobby never saw the letter. One of the nurses read it to him.”
“And Bobby's literate?” Bella asked.
“Yes,” Big said. “He wouldn't have needed anyone to read it to him.”
“That means the girlfriend never had anything to do with it,” Bella surmised. “The father most likely paid someone to read him a Dear John letter.” Young love. Broken love. “Where did Bobby live?”
“Richmond.”
“Well, there are only about half a dozen pharmaceutical fortunes here. If he can narrow it down to a last name, we can go from there. Intuition tells me the girlfriend never married. Get her last name too.”
“And Mary?” he asked gently.
“Siblings? Cousins? Aunts? Uncles?”
“No siblings. First names only for the rest.”
“I wonder if the parents were in agreement about institutionalizing her,” Bella mused.
“You mean the husband dropped off Mary without telling the mother?”
“Or vice versa. The mother could have done it and told the father Mary ran away.” She closed her eyes to think. “Let's start there. What has Mary said about her parents? Was she afraid of one or both of them?”
“She said her mother used to tell her she was an embarrassment. She never mentioned the father.”
“Is there anywhere Mary wants to go? Or anything she wants? At eight, she probably wanted a pony unless she grew up on a farm. Where did she live?”
“Roanoke. She liked school and liked to read.”
“I'll check on the parents' descendants and see if there is any possibility of a reunion. If not, I think near the Roanoke public library might be good.”
They embraced. “We're almost there,” Bella said.
Big held her in his arms for a long time. “I can't believe it. Finally.”
CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX
November
Bella couldn't wait. She'd denied herself Daniel too long. She wanted to see him, feel his familiar body, and inhale the smell of him. Her need had intensified after the weekend in Bermuda with Mark. He was a good, sexy guy. He wasn't her Daniel.
She knew Daniel kept a rigid schedule. He was always in bed by eleven o'clock and up at eight. He ate breakfast and then took a walk with an aging Ivan, the chocolate lab/boxer mix dog he'd adopted along with a grey tabby cat named Holly from the animal rescue center before he was admitted to Commonwealth Psych. He ate lunch at noon, ran in the late afternoon about four, and ate dinner at seven. He walked Ivan again before bed.
Bella suspected Daniel took something to make him sleep. A dreamless, restful sleep but not terribly restorative. That was in her favor. He'd never know she was there.
She went to him the night after the deposition with Jess Cox, who'd been on duty the night Evan Cooper was murdered. His revelations about the specific instructions not to call security or a physician during the night were surprising and alarming. She now knew how close Dan
iel had come to being Larry Yarbrough's victim. That terrified her.
Daniel slept on his left side facing away from the window. Ivan snored at his feet. Bella slipped in through the window and lay on her side behind Daniel. Ivan stirred, but didn't wake. Spooning with Daniel was better than making love with anyone else alive. She felt his sweetness, his sadness, and his unfailing spirit when she rested her head on his shoulder. He didn't move all night. She lay there feeling comforted and whole. Soon. Soon, they would be together.
Daniel's sleep was that of synthetic stuff. Chemicals, binders, and dyes sprinkled quiet on his nerves, muscles, and brain. He reposed for eight hours. The drug's effect was predictable. Exactly eight hours after taking it, Daniel woke.
After the first night when she sought assurance that Daniel had survived Yarbrough's rampage, Bella spent every night with Daniel. Holding him calmed her. She believed she brought a certain peacefulness to Daniel. His breathing seemed more even when she left than when she arrived.
Ivan noticed her a few times. He, like other creatures, knew her ghostly form was benign. At most, his eyes would open, he'd look into her eyes, and he’d go back to sleep. Ivan looked old and tired. Bella believed Ivan was holding on to protect Daniel and wooing him to be well.
One morning, Bella lingered. She left long enough for Daniel to wake, shower, and dress, but she returned to his room, where she overheard his conversation with Selma in the kitchen.
“We'll leave at nine for your appointment, okay?”
“Sure, Mom.”
Bella heard the clatter of silverware and smelled the rich aroma of coffee. Coffee was something she missed. Coffee, chocolate, and champagne. If she could take those along with Daniel, eternity would be more than blissful.
“Daniel, you're looking better in the past few days. Any secrets you want to share?” Selma asked.
“I've been sleeping really well. I feel like I have a heat source in the small of my back that makes me relax. I almost dream, or I dream for seconds. Maybe I'm getting acclimated to the sleep medication. I wake up feeling better than I used to, but I don't feel any sluggish effects.”
