Faces flashed through his head. He couldn't shut them out.
Friends, colleagues, anybody the least bit zealous about euthanasia in the past, pro or con, came to mind, even… No, that went too damn far. Time to go home and get some sleep.
A few deep breaths of the cool night air slowed the maelstrom in his head. But an image played repeatedly in his thoughts during the drive home, then recurred later that night, during his dreams.
In it a shrouded figure with glittering eyes hovered over Sadie Locke's bed, reaching for her.
Chapter 11
The dreams came at the end of sleep this time.
Sometimes I stood at the top of the stairs and called down to her.
No answer.
No lights on in the basement either.
Yet I'd definitely heard a noise down there.
Other times I walked along the corridor leading to his office.
The lights were dim.
As I drew closer I heard the sound of water running. Lots of water. Like someone filling up a bathtub.
Except there should be no such thing down here.
Or the dream would begin with no hint where it would ultimately take me. It could start in the middle of a sunny day at a park with green grass, cool caressing breezes, and warmth under the blaze of orange and yellow leaves. Or were those clues as well? Had it been sunny that day? Did we go to the park? I couldn't remember. But yes, the season would be fall. Not that I recalled seeing the colors of the foliage. I knew because of the date, November 9, 1989- a date that had become lodged in my head like a bullet, a day the world changed for the better but my universe collapsed.
Was that why he'd chosen that day- to make sure no one would ever forget the anniversary?
Maybe.
Or perhaps our imminent visit had precipitated the choice- he couldn't face us- and he simply took advantage of a coincidence of history, a time when everybody else would be glued to the television and wouldn't interrupt.
Sometimes the points of view got changed about, and I would be inside Jerome's head, forced to experience how alone he must have felt in those desperate yet methodical moments.
And then I'd be back at the beginning again, dreading but not precisely knowing the events to come.
But no matter how or where they started, all the dreams led me to the same spot and all ended the same way.
I stood in darkness, listening to the cascade of water on the other side of the door. There were also strains of barely audible music. The dripping from my shoe when I took a step made me realize that a puddle had spilled under the threshold to form around my feet.
I called out again.
No answer.
I tried the handle.
Unlocked.
I turned it and pushed.
It swung open, and the sound of the streaming torrents trebled in volume. I could also recognize the song now.
"Hello?" I raised my voice to be heard above the din and peered into the semiblackness of the laboratory.
Still no response.
The digital readouts on the equipment, fluorescent green and fire red, cast a neon glow that shimmered on the surface of the flooded floor. At the middle, like an inverted fountain, a huge cascade of water spouted from what must have been a broken pipe in the ceiling. The spray caught enough illumination to glitter like a downpour of emerald and ruby sparkles, but something dark and solid hung in its center.
I should have just turned and left, gone for a maintenance man.
But that dark shape drew me forward.
As I stepped closer, it became a human form, like someone standing under a shower, head slumped forward and shoulders rounded to receive the full force of the streaming water on the neck and upper back. Nearer still, I felt droplets from the spray as it cascaded off the top of the person's crown, creating a domed effect. Knowing I shouldn't, I ducked inside the watery cupola and looked up to see a downturned face looking at me. Its wet skin reflected the ambient light, making it seem coated in a sheen of olive and purplish paint. The eyes bulged as if he were enraged, his cheeks were bloated to the bursting point, and a tongue swollen to the girth of a Polish sausage hung twisted from the side of his mouth.
I screamed and woke in a sweat.
For an instant I felt the relief that always flooded through me when I escaped the nightmare.
But dawn slashed across my eyes, a light shredded by the horizontal blinds, and reminded me of the old woman's room.
And Garnet's ambush.
The never-ending dread of getting caught settled in for another day. I could hardly escape it anymore. Even in my other self, it would leech through from time to time, which meant someone might spot that I'm scared and get suspicious.
Shit.
At least Earl hadn't recognized me; if he had, the police would already be at the door.
But what the hell had he been doing there? And how did he know to get the old lady to safety? Could he be on to everything, could he have figured it all out? Christ, he might even have been the creeper on the ward last week.
My skin grew clammy again, adding to the sour aroma from the already damp sheets. I threw them off in disgust, retreated to the shower, and turned the cold water on full. The blast of icy needles overrode my runaway thoughts and helped me focus, not that that offered much comfort. As I tried to rein in my worst fears and sort out pure imaginings from fact, a few gnawing realizations shoved everything else into the shadows.
Whoever had been the figure in the hallway, it didn't change the fact that Garnet had been skulking around last night. And whatever reason Garnet had had to move the old lady out and keep watch in her room, he now knew for certain that she'd been in danger. Which meant he'd be more watchful than ever up there, and there'd be no delaying or diverting him until he got at the truth.
The trouble would be, which truth? The one I planned for him to discover, or the reality behind it? But false leads might not fool the likes of Earl. All the pieces in their entirety were there to be found, and he definitely had the smarts not only to find them but also to fit them into place.
Time to accelerate the plan.
Sunday, July 13, 6:10 p.m.
"Sit down, Thomas." Jane felt eerily calm and totally in charge. She'd had a sense of complete control all weekend, first refusing to see him, then instructing him to show up at her apartment. That he'd arrived twenty minutes early only enhanced her heady my-way-or-the-doorway attitude.
He didn't stretch out on her living room rug as he usually did while waiting for supper, but took one of the upholstered chairs, which seemed a size too small, making him bend like a half-folded lawn chair.
The sight of him made her giggle.
He immediately smiled. "Well, that's better. God, I thought you had bad news, it felt so serious in here."
She said nothing.
Immediately he leaned forward, his features funneling into a pointed look of concern. "What's up, J.S.?"
She never really liked how he'd appropriated Dr. G.'s nickname for her. It felt like an intrusion on something private she shared with a special friend.
She studied Thomas's sleek, sturdy frame and lean, bearded face, thinking how his appearance had fed her schoolgirl ideal of a Tennessee woodsman, hard as an oak ax handle, yet still more boy than man. Well, time to grow him up. See what he could make of himself.
"I'm pregnant."
He appeared to stop breathing.
The seconds crept by in discreet silence, as if trying not to eavesdrop.
"Thomas, did you hear me?"
"Jesus, Jane, give me a moment. That's quite a shock."
"Really? Uh, how many times have we made love? A hundred, maybe? And do you remember putting on a new condom each time we sampled seconds? Look, I may have been as lax as you, but we were a team in this one. Do me a favor and spare me the surprise." The impatience she felt surprised her. But what the hell, let it rip. She'd no time for bullshit. Not now.