Copyright © 2021 James Russell Stoakes
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Sarah was worried. Her mother hadn’t spoken a word since leaving Alice’s house. She just stared out the window.
“What did you think of Alice?” Sarah asked tentatively.
“Huh?” Karen said, breaking from her thoughts. “Oh, Alice. She’s nice.” After a few seconds of silence, she added, “I don’t understand why she refused to talk about Brian, though. It was clear she was suddenly uncomfortable, so I didn’t push when she reacted as she did.”
“He was a black sheep,” Alice had said with disgust and buried her face in her coffee mug.
“I feel like there is a thread blowing around in front of my face and that if I grab it and pull…” she trailed off in thought for a moment.
“You never told me about your uncle Brian,” Sarah said.
“Nothing to tell,” Mrs. Mitchel replied. “I never met him myself. I only knew about him because of that one picture.”
Curious, Sarah asked, “What was it about the picture that stunned you?”
Mrs. Mitchel laughed. “I had the crazy idea that he might be related to me because his eyes were like ours, one blue and one green.”
“How would that work?” Sarah asked without thinking. In her mind, she quickly realized the how and panicked a little.
“Maybe he was my father,” Mrs. Mitchel casually conjectured.
“I suppose it’s possible,” Sarah agreed.
Mrs. Mitchel stared out the window for a few more minutes before speaking again. “There is enough circumstantial evidence to suggest he could have been,” she said quietly. “Not that it matters at this point in my life.”
“You don’t want to know who your biological mom and dad are?” Sarah asked.
“I’m not sure,” Mrs. Mitchel responded. “What would be the purpose of finding out?”
Alice was furious with herself. “Why did I ask about Brian?” she said as she rinsed the dishes she had just washed. “My mind must be slipping,” she said as she wiped her hands.
Paperwork from her lawyer sat on one of the counters. She hadn’t read it yet. “Probably something to do with Kevin,” she said to the air. “I’ll deal with it later.”
She moved to the table and stared at where they had sat. “I’m sure Sarah has put it all together,” she thought, “but for some reason, she avoids saying anything to me about it. To be fair, I haven’t said anything to her either.”
Moving to her chair, Alice pulled the blankets over herself. She wasn’t cold. She longed for the weight of the blankets and the comfort they provided. “For better or worse, I have to make this right,” Alice thought. She closed her eyes. “How?” she asked herself as she drifted off to sleep.
Visiting hours were long over, and the winter sun had set. Timmy stashed his jacket in the car despite the cold and walked the short distance to the door in his blue scrubs.
He showed his hospital ID tag to the lobby security guard.
“First day?” the guard asked as he scanned the ID.
Timmy smiled, “Yep, I was told to report to the nurse station and help out on the third floor today.”
The device beeped, and the guard handed the tag back and said, “Good luck. This is a great place to work.”
Timmy hung the ID from the front of his scrubs. “That’s what I have heard,” he said with a smile as he departed toward the elevator.
Once on the third floor, Timmy exited the elevator and walked past the nurse station without looking their way. The two nurses on duty looked up but thought nothing of one of someone walking by in scrubs. Timmy had done his research many times on hospital protocols, and he knew that fifteen past the hour to thirty minutes past the hour was the sweet spot between the rounds.
The police still had not positively identified his target, but he had. Jason Lemay was a low-level dirtbag who was suspected of multiple rapes but never convicted. They had him on this one, and this one was personal.
Timmy crept down the hall and into the room. The uniformed officer on duty was slumped over in a chair, asleep. Lifting his scrub on the right side exposed a set of prepared syringes. Timmy carefully removed one and plunged it into the exposed neck of the officer. The officer began to get up but quickly sat back down. “It’s for your own good,” Timmy thought. He could have done this without waking the officer, but then the officer would have had to explain how it happened on his watch. He capped the syringe and replaced it in its holster.
The machines beeped softly and monitored Jason’s breathing and heart. Timmy looked the monitors over, flicked a few switches, and turned them off.
He moved to the IV pole and deftly injected the contents of a second syringe into the injection port. Carefully replacing the expired needle in its holster, Timmy moved to the other side of the bed. He waited a few minutes before tapping on Jason’s chest cast.
“Hey!” Timmy said in an urgent whisper. “Wake up, asshole; it’s time to die.”
Jason’s eyes flew open, but other than that, he couldn’t move.
“This is a unique mix that the company uses. First, it paralyzes the recipient. You will feel paranoid at first, and that’s natural, considering you cannot move. Euphoria will set in near the end. I really really wanted your death to be more painful, but dead is dead. I’m lucky the company sanctioned this small benefit to a grieving father. You’ve got about another three minutes before you die.” Jason’s eyes glazed over as the drug progressed.
Satisfied, Timmy exited the room. Halfway down the hall, he realized the nurses had begun their rounds, and he was running out of time. He calmly walked the distance to the elevator so that he would not attract any attention, but once there, Timmy opted for the stairs and flew down them as fast as he could.
Calming himself before entering the lobby, Timmy crossed and waved to the guard. “I forgot my introduction letter,” he said as he pressed the remote start button on his car, “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, see you in a few,” the guard said, laughing.
Timmy unlocked the car and got in. He quickly put it in gear and exited the parking lot. His car was waiting at a secured drop location.
As he drove, he pealed the mask attached to his face off and threw the pieces on the passenger side floor. It would take acetone to remove the imitation skin from his hands. Someone from the company would retrieve this car and clean it later.
“We had a hell of a time getting in to see you today, Mary. Something happened in the other wing on this floor,” Mrs. Jordan said.
Mary didn’t care. She was worried. A victim’s advocate and a counselor had stopped in to speak with her. They told her that the rapist had been caught, and they wanted her to repeat her story for them. They were trying to prepare her for her day in court. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. Maybe when her jaw hurt less and she ran out of tears. Maybe then.
“Are you even listening to me?” Mrs. Jorden said, exasperated.
Mr. Jordan entered the room. “How are you doing, Mary?” he asked as he calmly closed the door.
Mary turned her head to him but didn’t say anything.
“Well, say something!” Mrs. Jordan yelled.
“Sit down and be quiet, Ellen!” Mr. Jordan commanded. Before his wife could object, he pointed at the chair. “Sit! You are out of control.”
Mrs. Jordan was not sure how to react, so she sat. It was usually important when her husband stepped up and took control. He was a different person when his mood shifted like this. She thought back to the last time it happened; someone broke into their home. Mark had told her, “Don’t argue. Get in the closet. Close the door and lock it.” After a while, he came up and got her; the burglar had tripped and broken his neck trying to flee.
“You can relax, Mary,” Mr. Jordan said. “According to the police, the man that did this to you has died.” He paused to let her reflect on that statement. “Your job now is to heal. You do not have to worry about the police or courts or anything else now. Just heal. The nurse told me, you can go home tomorrow if you want. You can stay a few more days if you feel you need to. It’s completely up to you. We will get you counseling when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Dad,” Mary said through her wired jaw. “I think I’d like to go home.