Chapter 5

The window creaked and flapped down against the back of his legs as William hauled himself inside and tumbled down to the dirty concrete floor.  Pain spiked through his knee and pushed the fog back for a moment.  He sat, sucked a deep breath in through his nose. 

Dust.  Ancient residues of oil and metal were the first odors he could make out.  He wiped some of the thick grime off his knees as he stood.  At least his new home wasn't a landfill or under a bridge.  He tried to count his blessings.  An abandoned warehouse wasn't as bad as many of the other options the voices could have come up with.

As the fog began to roil back into his vision, William snatched up the bag of bruised apples and the carrots, furry with tiny roots.  He took an apple first, reached under his hoodie and wiped it on the t-shirt.  Each action was precise.  The focus on the bodily sensations kept the voices distanced, quieter.

If only he could maintain it, keep them away.  If he could show Jess they were gone.  Would she want him again?

The thought of her, of good times, took form, solidified into memory as the fog built up around him again.  He saw her, sitting across from him.  They were outside at a cafe.  She adjusted her glasses and smiled at him as he fell into the memory.

 *

William's hand went into a pocket, pulled out the small box.  "Close your eyes."

She snorted.  "You think?"  She left one hand out on the table.  William opened the box, set it on the table and moved her fingers to it.

He waited.  Her fingers explored in the box a long moment, ran over the diamond's facets.  She pulled it out.  "Wow."  Her smile returned and slowly, she reached out.  "You going to put it on me?"

William took the ring, and positioned it above her left hand.  "So, that's a yes?"

"It's a yes."

William looked down, eased the ring onto her finger.

 *

The memory blurred, became a different one as he looked at their hands together.  His palm turned up and she eased something into it.  Two small pills.  Around him, the room was white, undecorated.  His hand tightened around the pills.

 *

The attention to his straining fingers drove the memory and the fog from William's vision.  He looked down at his clenched hand, saw apple juice and crushed chunks dripping down from it.  He shook it out, wiped it against his pants as The Caretaker leaned over him.  He turned away, frowning.  He wanted to be at Jessica's place, waiting there instead of in an abandoned building.

You need to eat, The Caretaker said.

William looked up at her.  His lip rose, exposed a few teeth in a snarl.

Eat. The Hunter stood beside him.

The Advisor took shape on his other side.  You need it.

William looked away from them.  It was useless to talk.  And he knew they were right.  If he was here to protect her, he not only had to be nearby, he had to be physically strong enough to act against whatever was threatening her.  If only the voices would give him more information, he would be better able to protect her.

Eating these cast-offs, squatting in abandoned buildings might help him get stronger, but it would only drive her further away.  He sat for a moment, stared at the food and knew it was more important to do whatever he could to keep her safe.

You will see her soon, The Advisor said.

"Leave me alone."  Slowly, he stood, took another apple and began to search the warehouse.

 *

The molded plastic seat of the chair bit into his legs and the middle of his back, but it was better than standing in the squad room listening to a politician lecturing on about the importance of their jobs in an election year.  Bryan had tried to make an early escape, but Hayes had been on guard near the door and every detective unlucky enough to be in the office had been trapped for the duration.  The hospital waiting room was a relief after that.

Of course, going over the details of the perp's file was tipping the scales back the other direction.  Not much of it made sense, and that meant that it wouldn't be as easy as he had hoped.  He did want a challenge, but not on a worthless missing person case like this.  The assault charges were a waste of time since the man was already a mental patient.  As soon as Bryan found this William Adams, he would go straight back to the institution.  It was open and shut, obviously not something that would occupy Bryan’s mind the way he needed.  He needed bigger cases, like he’d had before, something with more important stakes than finding a man who had choked his doctor unconscious.  A murder or the chance to work on the fires would distract him, keep him from thinking about Claire and the baby.

Bryan shifted in the seat, though it didn't make it more comfortable, and looked down at his notes. 

NEXT OF KIN - JESSICA MOORE

ACUTE SCHIZOPHRENIA - NO HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

The shuffling of bootied feet pulled his head up.  An ER surgeon scanned the half empty room and hooked his eyes on Bryan.  "Detective?"  At Bryan's nod, the doctor walked forward, pulled his rust colored surgery cap down from a thin bed of matted hair. 

Bryan moved the folder to the side and stretched his way up out of the chair.  "Can I see her?"

"She's in recovery.  You can see her in her room soon if you need to.  She'll be groggy for a few hours."

"Anything you can tell me?" Bryan asked.

"About her injuries?"

Bryan nodded back and grabbed his notebook.

The doctor rubbed at the splotches under his eyes.  "Minor bruising to the throat, right hand pattern, but no internal damage.  She'll have a sore throat and hoarse voice for a few days, a week.  Her right hand took all the work."

Bryan jotted down MINOR CHOKING, saw the doctor looking at his own hand.  "Broken?"

"Crushed.  Primary damage to the metacarpals and second and third phalanges, but several broken carpals as well."

"Can you tell what did it?  There was no weapon at the scene."

The doctor's eyes remained on his hand.  "No sign of mechanical instrument or any blunt trauma.  It was simply compressed until the bones broke against each other."

Bryan waited for more.  "No impact damage?"

"There were bruises on the skin, some kind of ligature that looked like...it looked like a left hand squeezing pattern at first, but I'm not sure what.  No one's grip could crush the carpals like that.  Had to be something stronger."

Bryan waited for the surgeon to explain, but got nothing.  "Let me know when she's out of recovery?"

The doctor nodded and left Bryan alone with his notes and the plastic waiting room chair.

 *

Bryan eased the door open and squeezed into the room.  He expected the beep of a heart monitor, but only heard the intermittent whoosh of an IV hooked to a self-feeder.  He looked down from the hanging bag of Demerol to the victim.

Her hair, deep red, held his eyes first.  But, the temples showed the first hint of gray, wiry strands.  He focused on those instead of the red to push away memories of Claire.  The woman's face was tight with pain that the drugs had only dimmed.  Her right hand was a balloon of bandages, perched atop a small mountain of pillows on her lap.  Her left held the self-feed activator, its button ready under her thumb. 

He cleared his throat and her eyes cracked.

"Dr. Susan Westen?  I'm Detective Mickelson."

Her head turned slightly to him.

"I'm investigating the incident at the hospital last night." he said.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to bother you right now, but can you tell me what happened?"

Her eyes opened a sliver more and Bryan could see her appraising him.  "I was assaulted."

"By?" Bryan asked

"William Adams.  A patient," Westen said.

"While you were checking on another patient?  Mary Gingerich?"

She nodded back and immediately winced.  Her thumb pressed on the activator and the self-feeder whirred again.

"Can you remember any details of the assault?"  Bryan waited ten, twenty seconds for her reply.  His hand eased over to the watch at his wrist.

"He grabbed my neck with one hand, began to strangle me.  Then he started to crush my hand," she said.

"With what?"

She turned, slowly, to face him more fully.  "What do you mean?"

"What did he use to crush your hand?"

Even in pain, she looked confused.  "His hand.  What do you mean?"

"He did that without a weapon?  By himself?" Bryan asked.

"Detective...who else would have done it?"  She blew out a long breath.  He saw her eyes scan down his body.  "Is something wrong?  Do hospitals make you nervous?"

Bryan snatched his thumb from the face of his watch and glanced back down at his notes.  "What happened after that?"

"I believe I passed out.  Will this take much longer?"

"Just a few more questions.  I apologize."  The NO HISTORY OF VIOLENCE note he had written stood out at him.  "Do you know what might have set him off?"

Again, her answer was slow in coming.  "Why?  Did he say something?"

Bryan's turn to pause.  "What?"

He heard the exasperated breath from her lips.  "Did he say something?  He suffers from severe hallucinations, Detective.  Whatever he might have said is very suspect."

Bryan stared at her.  "Doctor Westen, William Adams escaped after assaulting you.  That's why I'm here."

Her face went whiter and she jabbed her thumb down onto the button again.

 *

(Author's note:  What happened to Westen's hand?  How could William have done that barehanded?  And...why did he do it?  The stage is set and it's time to hold onto your hats, folks, because Chapter 6 is where we take a break from this psychological tension and things get physical.    Thanks for reading, for the votes and I look forward to hearing from everyone in the comments!)