I barely had the energy or appetite to go to the dining room to eat that night. Jagger had gotten my hospital gown and pants back, walked me to my ward and left me in my room after reporting to Sister Liz that I was back.
I sat on the bed contemplating poor Margaret in the other ward. Why on earth did they move her? I figured that someone knew this place was being “looked at.” But how? Jagger and I had been so secretive. Still, maybe I was wrong. Maybe my imagination had me thinking someone had found out about our investigation, but they really hadn’t. But there was the broom handle . . . maybe I was a target for another reason.
Maybe I should just chalk it all up to bad vibes from being in here. After all, the aura of these patients had to be in shades of gray to black. Sad but true.
“Hello, Pauline.”
I swung around to see Terry in my doorway!
“Oh. Hey, Ter.” I shifted on my bed ready to get up and react if need be. “You know you can’t come in here. No visiting in other patients’ rooms. Sister Barbie . . . Barbara Immaculatta’s rule.”
Terry poked his big toe through the doorway.
Despite my exhaustion, I pushed myself up to stand. “Where are your shoes, Ter?”
He wiggled his toe. “Why do I need shoes for what I need to do?”
Yikes! My throat went dry. “Er . . . what is it that you need to do, Terry?”
He stepped forward.
Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, Jagger’s self-defense instructions played like a video before me. I ran my finger across my bracelet. “I’m going to have to call Spike or whoever’s working this shift if you come any closer.”
Terry laughed. What a God-awful sound. Talk about chills running down your spine. Mine were on speedboats. He wiggled his naked foot. Even that looked sinister.
I backed toward the wall, wishing I could get past him and out the door. But Terry was a decent size in height and a generous portion in weight.
I couldn’t take him.
What I could do was protect myself with Jagger’s techniques and taser Terry’s butt if necessary, along with screaming for help.
“Well, it’s time to go to the dining hall, Ter.You hungry?”
He stood still. “Don’t call me ‘Ter.’ He called me that and look what happened to him.”
Whoa boy.
“Who called you that?”
He clucked his tongue. “You know. Him. He called me ‘Ter,’ so that happened to him.”
“Um. What is that, Terry?”
“You know.”
“No. I don’t . . . remember.”
He walked toward the bed. “Stop fooling me, Pauline. You know. You are smart. That’s why you’re here.”
Oh . . . my . . . God. Terry knew! “Hooow?” my words kinda croaked out.
This time Terry came within taser distance.
Good. I actually felt rather brave with the knowledge that Jagger had given me, not to mention the weapon on my wrist. I could do this, I told myself. Of course, I could scream too, but knew full well what happened to screaming patients around here. Terry would be out the door in a flash and no one would believe me as I rambled on while tucked in the wet sheets. The nuns already thought I’d hurt myself.
He clucked his tongue. “You know you are smart and they have you here for that. You know that I only wanted him to see the light. You know all that, Pauline. I don’t see why you are pretending.”
Suddenly I knew what it meant when someone’s eyes grew cold. I eased back and swallowed.
“Pauline. Pauline. Pauline.” He started that laugh again.
Oh, boy. Terry’s elevator didn’t go to the top floor. It was actually plummeting to the basement before my eyes, like the Tower of Terror at Disney. “Okay, I’m just hungry. So, let’s go see what there is to eat.” I called his bluff and started to walk past him. Not knowing where the courage came from, I let adrenaline power my legs as I looked him in the eye and walked toward the door. Then I stopped and realized maybe I could get more info out of Terry.
He must have killed Vito. He’d just about confessed.
“You’re not afraid to die, Pauline?” He closed the door.
Got my attention with that one. I turned around. “Die? Why would I die, Terry?” I stood firm and decided I had to do my job and part of that job might just involve Vito’s death.
Terry started to hum and wiggle his toes. If I wasn’t facing a probable murderer, his actions would be comical. Instead, they came across as disturbing. Evil.
“I guess we all have to die someday, Ter.” I’d purposely used the nickname to rile him. I figured he might spill more beans while losing what little control he actually had.
I preferred him spilling his beans instead of spilling me. I held my bracelet with the other hand.
“And you want to see the light on Tuesday?”
Today was Tuesday. “No, Ter. I want to see my grandchildren’s children grow up. No light for me yet.”
He came closer and looked much larger.
Gone was the pleasant doctor look that I’d originally seen when we first met. Mentally ill folks do have some chameleonlike qualities. That’s what makes psych so hard to work in. One never could tell if someone was sane . . . or not.
I was going with “not” for Ter.
For a second, I wished Jagger would come running in the door and zap Terry. But then I decided I could do this. I was an investigator and needed to face the risks of the job on my own.
So, going for the sixty-four-thousand-dollar risk, I asked, “Hey, Ter . . . did Vito see the light?”
“Vito!” he shouted then lunged at me with all his crazy force. I fell against the wall and started to call for Spike or anyone. Someone! Terry had wrapped his gigantic hands around my neck and wasn’t about to let go. He started to squeeze as he asked, “Is the light getting brighter yet? Is it?” he raised his voice.
The damn light is about to wink out, I thought. I tried to move, but ended up flailing about under his weight. Taking a hint from Spike, I spit at Terry. He shifted and
cursed while I lifted my knee to his groin enough to get him to jerk up and yelp.
Then he grabbed my wrist against his shoulder . . . and tasered himself.
His eyes bugged out. His body had some kind of convulsion. And Terry landed like a limp, gigantic rag doll on my chest, with a whoosh of air into my face.
Geez. I would have thought his reaction to being stunned would have been different. More stiff. I pushed at him until he tumbled to the side.
In the meantime, I jumped up so fast my head spun, while a gang crowded into the doorway. The first row of spectators consisted of patients. Staring. Mumbling. Hollering. Some woman with a Barbie doll stood in front shaking it at us.
From behind, I could hear Spike and the staff yelling at the spectators to move. Spike shoved past everyone.
I straightened up and said, “Terry’s not feeling well.”
Kneeling next to Terry, Spike said, “He’s dead.”