Forgotten Place (11 page)

Chapter 9

The last thing I remembered was crying
myself to sleep after a disastrous confrontation with Johnny. 
I woke in the dark, cold and disoriented.  My shirt twisted
around my body, bunched and uncomfortable.  When I sat up,
sharp pain shot down my left arm.  I groaned and immediately
guarded the tender limb with my right hand.

Pain pill.  Now.

Beyond that, nothing registered.  I had
no concept of time, barely made sense of the fact that I needed to
go from the bedroom to the cabinet in the kitchen where the
prescription bottle of oxycontin waited to lure me into a perpetual
state of numbness. 

I stumbled through the dark into the living
room.  A faint glow from the kitchen illuminated a path. 
Good.  I left the gas fireplace burning.  Chills rippled
through muscle and bone and pulled the hairs on my arms and the
back of my neck taut.  There was an open bottle of merlot in
the butler's pantry.  That would do in a pinch, give a little
magical assist and speed up the efficacy of the oxycontin.  I
detoured away from the kitchen down the hall and grabbed my stash
of merlot. 

Blind to everything but the hypnotic throb
of agony drumming from shoulder through every bone it touched,
autopilot propelled me to the cabinet.  I uncapped the bottle
and shook out a handful of pills.  Hey, I earned the
anesthesia.  I tossed them into my mouth and was about to tilt
the wine bottle to my lips when a voice whispered through the
darkness.

"Wine with narcotics.  Bad idea,
Helen."

The nerves wanted to scream in startlement,
but the brain was too pissed off by the intrusion for an emotional
response that showed how vulnerable I felt.  Instead, it
overrode the ability for voluntary movement.

Light from the refrigerator spiked the
darkness.  Johnny unscrewed the cap from a bottle of water and
held it in front of me.  When I didn't move, he pried the wine
bottle from my right hand.  "You really didn't believe I could
leave things like that, did you?"

Bitter words joined the repugnant taste of
melting narcotics in my mouth.  "Why not?  You had no
problem leaving things the way they were in October."

"You
wanted
me to leave, kicked me out as
I recall.  Remember?"

"Of course I
remember."  I yanked the water bottle from his hand and sent a
spray of liquid sloshing to the floor.  "What I find
impossible to fathom is why all of a sudden you have a problem with
how we
left
things."

Johnny pulled off a wad of paper towels from
the spindle on the counter and mopped up the mess on the
floor.  "Did you swallow your medication?"

"Yes," snarled.  "I don't need a nurse
maid."

He didn't argue vocally, but I felt the
disagreement in his posture.  Johnny yanked the freezer door
open and pulled out the container of strawberry soft serve that
Crevan brought for dinner.  A spoon from the drawer was
hastily shoved into the thick dessert.  He held it out to
me.

"I'm not hungry."

"You're not taking pain pills without eating
something and so help me, Helen, if I have to sit on you and force
feed you, I'll do it.  Now eat."

My chest heaved with indignity, anger at
being ordered around in my own home.  Hell, if I had the
revolver handy, it would be mighty tempting to let history repeat
itself.

"Don't even think about it," he warned.

"I didn't say a word."

"I know you, Helen.  I heard you
thinking it.  You don't want to kill me for putting my foot
down and making sure you don't starve to death.  Now you can
either stand here and eat, or you can go sit at the table, but by
God, shovel that ice cream into your mouth –"

"Yeah, yeah," New Yorker arrived in a
huff.  "You'll sit on me and force feed me until I
explode.  I got it, Orion."  Stubbornness propelled me to
the sofa where I curled up in my favorite corner.  I spooned a
tiny dab of ice cream between my lips.

Firelight cast eerie shadows into the dark
room.  I squinted at the clock on the wall to no avail. 
"What time is it?"

"Eleven."

"And you've been hanging out since nine,
waiting for me to come out of my room?"

"Yes."  He stared at my empty
spoon.

Chagrined but not up for another battle, I
took another bite.  Honestly, strawberry was my favorite,
though I couldn't fathom how Crevan could've known it.  Three
half teaspoons later, I asked, "Did anybody call while I was
asleep?"

"Ned."

"Do I rate more than a single word response
in this conversation?"

Johnny perched on the coffee table in front
of the sofa and crossed his arms.

"Was it perhaps my phone number that Ned
called?"

"Yes."

"Goddammit, Orion!  What did he
say?"

"You're not eating."

"I'll have to remember to thank him for his
concern but I believe he's stating the obvious."

"You know what I meant."

His crude psychology came into quick
focus.  Eat and I can get all the information I want.  I
gouged a huge bite out of the container and stuffed in my
mouth.  "Happy now?" I mumbled.

"Getting there."

Sharp pain stabbed through one eye. 
"Ow."

"You might want to try human sized
bites.  Brain freeze is a bitch."

"I hate you," I rasped.  Ready, aim,
fire, kill shot.

Orion sucked the corner of his lower lip
between his teeth and gnawed, but didn't respond.

"Let me guess.  Mission accomplished,"
I sneered.  "Fine, you made your point.  Tell me what Ned
said or I'll call him back right now."

"Good luck finding a phone.  Or your
car keys.  Or the house keys to open the deadbolts."

"You bastard.  This is kidnapping."

"What's another felony on top of what I've
already done for you, Doc?  Look at it this way.  At
least you'll live to see me prosecuted."

The world faded away until all I could see
was that unreadable mask Johnny wore.  "You're bluffing. 
Your career means too much to you –"

"I already blew my cover, probably shot my
entire investigation into Datello's criminal activities straight to
hell.  What've I got to lose?"

I played along for the moment.  "Not
much apparently.  It seems you've already lost your mind if
you're serious about locking me up in my own home and cutting me
off from the world."

"You're the one who cut yourself off from
the world. The ice cream is melting, and Ned sounded like he really
wanted you to know what he had to say.  I'd suggest you get
busy so I can tell you what happened after they left."

There's stubbornness, and then there's
stupidity.  Innate curiosity was my Achilles heel. 
Slowly, I worked on the ice cream until about two cups were
consumed and I felt like another bite would make me ill. 
Johnny pried the container out of my hand and returned it to the
freezer.

While he was gone, my eyes,
now accustomed to the semidarkness, scanned the room.  The
kitchen phone was indeed gone.  The bastard wasn't
kidding.  If I weren't so damned weak, I could throw
him
through the wall of
windows in the family room and make my great
escape. 

"You look like you're plotting something,
Doc."

"Don't call me that."

"Would you like to hear what Ned had to
say?"

I crossed my bony arms over my nearly
concave chest and glared.  The shiver picked a bad moment to
appear and killed the effect unfortunately.  Johnny reached
over and tugged the afghan off the back of the sofa and wrapped it
around my shoulders.

"Yes?  No?  Don't give a damn
about Journey Ireland or catching Datello anymore?"

"What did he say?"

"One of the nurses forgot a stethoscope or
some such nonsense in one of the patients rooms.  She walked
in on a man dressed head to toe in black about to inject something
into Journey's IV tubing.  She startled the guy, and he threw
her out of the way and ran off."

"Is Journey all right?"

"Ned said they had to sedate her. 
Apparently your new best friend was pretty torn up over seeing a
girl with no voice screaming her head off."

I ignored his jealousy.  "I hope Shelly
ordered a police guard at the door."

"Yep, for the duration of her stay. 
Detective Mackenzie is playing babysitter at her bedside for the
night.  Crevan and I are tracking down Samantha Wine tomorrow
morning after I bring you home from physical therapy."

"You really need to butt out of my
life."

"Absolutely.  Just as soon as I'm sure
you're not on the verge of death.  Glad this Dr. Chesney put
you on Prozac today.  I may have to send him a thank you or
something.  I wonder if he likes scotch."

"I don't need you."

"Therapy is what, at six-thirty?"  His
hands clapped loudly against the tops of his thighs.  "It's
pushing midnight now.  You should probably go back to
bed.  If I suggest that you sleep in your clothes, it would
probably assure that you don't, so by all means, Doc, as you
were."

"You high handed son of a bitch."

"Either you go back to bed now, or I'll put
you there.  I doubt you'd like the experience."

I really had no choice but to retaliate with
any means at my disposal.  Having him hanging out while I
slowly regained some strength was a fate worse than death, worse
than life in prison.  "I never cared much for the experience
the last time you took me to bed.  Why should anything change
now?"

That one hit the mark.  His shoulders
sagged.  "Well then, you really are one hell of a liar,
Helen.  But you can relax.  I can't think of a single man
alive that would find you attractive in your current
condition."

"Zack," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't think of a single man alive that
would find me attractive in my current condition.  Zack
does.  He's my date Saturday night."

"Well we'll have to make sure you have time
to shop for something that won't emphasize the starvation, since
none of your current wardrobe fits the bill.  Can't have you
disappointing your latest conquest, can we?"

It occurred to me that we'd sit there
trading barbs all night.  All it would accomplish was more
frustration for me and more determination from Orion. 

"I'll go back to bed now, but not because
you say so.  You're right about one thing.  I need to get
my strength back.  The sooner I do, the sooner I can leave
this place and never look back."

"Pleasant dreams, Doc."

I stomped back to the bedroom and slammed
the door. 

Prozac
. 

Maybe it was another weird dream like the
ice cream sundae chasing me around the house.  Now it was
Johnny chasing me around with a quart of ice cream instead.

No such luck.  I woke to the aroma of
brewing coffee and toast.  The tea kettle whistled loudly
before I got through the kitchen door.

"Good, you're up.  I was about ready to
wake you."  Johnny poured boiling water over a teabag. 
"One egg, scrambled, toast and a cup of tea.  I'd suggest you
eat without a fight this morning.  Amy is expecting you to
arrive on time."

Time for a different tactic.  "This
really isn't necessary, Johnny."  I pulled the bottle of
Prozac out of the cabinet and made a show of popping the prescribed
pill. 

He didn't respond, simply slid a plate
across the breakfast bar and poured himself a cup of coffee. 
I wasn't sure how much more of his presence I could endure. 
In the battle of wills, he had an unfair advantage.  Johnny
didn't feel the cold hand of death beguiling him into giving up,
and I did.

I perched on the edge of the stool at the
bar and dug into breakfast with mechanical determination. 
Cooperate and he'll go away.  It seemed like the easiest
course of action.

"I called Zack this morning."

Wary eyes rose from the perfectly scrambled
eggs.  "Why?"

"We need the details on what David might've
been doing that prompted the probe into Datello's activities. 
Did you forget already?"

"No.  I figured you might've..."

"What, cancelled your date Saturday
night?  Not on your life, Doc.  It'll do you some good to
get out of the house and socialize with people for an
evening.  What do you wanna bet we can put five pounds on just
by regular meals between now and Saturday?"

"Whatever it takes," I muttered.

Johnny braced his arms on the counter across
from me.  "I've been thinking about this thing. 
Actually, I spent most of the night using the computer in your
office digging into some background on Linder.  He doesn't
strike me as courageous enough to stroll into the hospital and try
to kill Journey again."

Unbelievable.  "Oh yeah?  Why is
that?"

"I started thinking about the criminal
record Ned mentioned last night, particularly the arrests for
solicitation, so I decided to get some more information.  In
both cases, the guy was caught seeking some rather kinky sex favors
from undercover officers."

"And this makes him a coward?"

"Let's just say he appreciates the
submissive role in certain situations.  I believe there is a
specific term for his fetish, if I understand that DSM book of
yours correctly.  It's called infantilism, and it's classified
as a part of para... para..."

"Paraphilia," I said.  "I'm familiar
with the term."

His grin drew my attention.  Even
though Orion claimed that he spent the night researching, the
dullness in his eyes was gone, replaced by the familiar twinkling
blue.  The beard was trimmed down to a neat goatee
again.  His hair was still long enough to cover half his ears,
but the suit was crisp and suspiciously similar to one that had
been hanging in the smaller walk in closet since I threw him out of
my life in October.