Читать книгу Sin - Sharron Burnett - Страница 10

Chapter 4

“Code 3 to isolation. Code 3 to isolation.”

Julio was the first to respond.

“We got a live one?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” Tracey said, motioning toward the woman sitting up in her twin-size hospital bed.

Tracey was pretty, with her thick honey colored ponytail and a kick-ass body. She handled herself with a cool, collective demeanor, and she was a homosexual, which caused a lot of confusion among the male staff in residence at General Hospital’s psychiatric ward.

The two psychiatric technicians had forged a tight friendship over the past couple of years, both were in top physical shape, could handle just about anything that could possibly arise during the night shift, even murder.

“You check under her bed?” Julio asked with a thick Spanish accent.

Tracey glanced at Julio with a critical eye.

“Bad.” She smirked, shaking her head sadly. She drew closer to the two-way window watching Maggie move cautiously toward the edge of the narrow bed. She sat there for several moments, looking confused.

Tracey pressed the call button again.

“Dr. Thompson, please dial 399. Dr. Thompson, dial 399.”

Tracey loved a mystery, and this girl epitomized the word.

Maggie Payne was the twin sister of the latest missing persons case. Rebekah Payne, her sister, had disappeared while the two were attending a concert at Shoreline in San Francisco. Maggie had arrived, unconscious, at the hospital’s emergency center.

She had been housed in a private room, one reserved for celebrities and other dignitaries, and her bill had been paid in advance by a “concerned citizen.” A private nurse had been employed around-the-clock to see to her needs.

The phone buzzed. She picked it up on the second ring.

“Dr. Thompson.” The voice sounded harried. A loud thud followed, and the line went silent.

“Shit! Hello.”

Tracey laughed. “You got it now?”

“I think so,” he finally said. “What’s up?”

“Maggie Payne.”

“I’ll be right there.” He hung up, unusually brisk.

A piercing scream caused the hair on the back of Tracey’s neck to rise. She turned to the sound. Maggie’s eyes were wild, staring at herself in horror.

“Crap,” Tracey exclaimed, watching as Maggie grabbed a handful of long black hair, pulling it out by its roots as she continued screaming.

Julio moved first, storming through the door like a blitzkrieg.

He took hold of both Maggie’s wrists as she struggled, twisting, and turning until she was able to slip from his grip.

Her eyes were wild, staring at the two psychiatric technicians like a cornered animal.

“W-where is he?”

Maggie was appalled at the sound of her own voice.

“Oh my god.”

She looked behind her, taking in the barred windows and curtained bed. It didn’t look like a hospital.

“Where…Where is my sister?” She looked truly terrified.

“Maggie, I know you’re scared,” Tracey said gently.

“It’s going to be all right, though. I’m Tracy, and this is Julio. We are here to help.”

“Help?” Maggie said uncertainly.

“Yes,” she said with feigned excitement.

Maggie was feeling the pull of something foreign in her. A hunger for something she didn’t understand.

She turned her eyes to the tall man. He smelled overwhelmingly male. He had a wide mouth and large white teeth. He was closer now, too close.

She flew toward him; her mouth latching onto his broad neck. Her teeth sinking into him.

“Shit!” He howled, grabbing her behind the neck, smashing her face into him until she released her bite.

He tossed her like a feral cat, his eyes wide with disbelief as he felt the warmth of his blood seeping through his fingers as he held fast to the open wound.

“Bitch!”

She huddled on the floor in a tangled heap, making herself as small as humanly possible.

Tracy looked over at Julio

“Are you okay?” Tracey asked breathlessly.

“No, I’m not okay!” He ground out between clenched teeth. “She fucking bit me!”

*****

Dr. Daniel Thompson had a fast, easy smile, one that brightened his face with intelligence and good humor. He was as large as a defenseman, yet there was a peacefulness about him that belied the physical.

Maggie was intrigued by the smells coming from his muscular frame—male, powerful scents. She tried to move, finding the act hampered by a series of straps and buckles at her hands, waist, and legs.

“Good morning, Maggie.”

He flashed a pin light across her eyes.

“Hmmm.” He frowned, somewhat startled.

Her eyes were a clear blue with triads of burgundy in their depths.

“What’s going on with your eyes there, kiddo?” She was of Indian descent; her eyes should be as brown as his own.

“Jewell,” he called out.

“Look who’s awake.” He shot over his shoulder. He turned back, wiggling big bushy brows.

“Maggie, you’ve been asleep since you arrived,” he said kindly.

“You should expect some difficulties with speech and maybe a few other basic motor functions.” He pulled back, studying her for a moment.

“According to your charts, you have some issues with men treating you.” He paused.

“I hope to be the exception to that particular rule.” He smiled. “We’re not all bad, you know.”

Maggie’s personality had become fractured at some point. Her early childhood had been a lurid tale of sexual and physical abuse. She and her sister had been a set of triplets, although only two survived past the age of seven, which was when the state of California was put to the task of placing the surviving siblings into foster care. Things didn’t get better for Maggie until much later.

She was twenty-six now. She’d spent the last three years living a relatively normal life, checking in with her psychologist every three months—basically, a success story. She was an exceptional artist. Her work was well known and shown in several galleries up and down California’s central coast. Only the truly fortunate were able to afford her latest works, subsequently, it was shown privately these days and to only a select clientele.

“I understand you know Jewell,” he said, motioning to the door.

“Maggie.” Jewell’s black smiling face appeared. “Girl, you finally wake up, and it’s at the end of my shift.” She walked in, shaking her head. Her large black eyes still bore straight into her, seeing more than most people wanted to.

“Jewell,” Maggie said harshly

“Hah!” The doctor laughed in astonishment.

“Okay, question,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know where you are?”

She looked around her. “Yes,” she said dismally.

He smiled a crooked toothy grin. “What is the last thing you remember?” he questioned soberly.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the burning light of the sun.

“You’re at General Hospital. You came in with acute anemia.” He paused. “You also had a couple of wounds, possibly bite marks. Does any of this ring a bell?”

“It’s not my memory that I question. It is my sanity.”

“What makes you doubt your sanity?”

“Have you ever doubted the voice in your own head? Is it you that you hear, or is it someone else?”

She spoke the words directly to his mind.

He was conscious of time slipping by like a ghost as he digested what he could not even begin to fathom. He stood up abruptly, his smile of moments before, melting into a look of shocked outrage.

“Hey!”

She could not help but laugh at his expression.

“What was that?” he questioned in a high falsetto, confusion and wonder brightening his face; it stirred something within her, something instinctual. Her eyes flared.

She cast her gaze to the door. The two psychiatric technicians stood there. Her eyes skipped past the female, zeroing in on the tall Mexican beside her.

“Hey,” he said in greeting. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were red rimmed and clouded.

“You going to be good?”

“Good?” she said. Her eyes lowered to the wide expanse of his chest. He wore a bandage on his throat; it made her mouth water to look at it.

“How do you mean?” she asked in a low sultry voice.

He said nothing, although his mouth twisted in a pained frown.

Maggie turned her head to the left, as though listening. Her eyes were closed; her mouth soft and relaxed.

“Maggie?”

She turned to Daniel. He looked slightly amused. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing up at him through brilliant green orbs. I love this song.”

“What song is that?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s new.”

“You are hearing music?”

“Yes.”

“Curious,” he said with a slight frown.

“Why is that?” she asked, perplexed. “Can’t you?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“I see,” she said absently.

“What is it you see?” He returned.

“He must be an angel, I suppose,” she said quietly.

“Who?”

“The one who sings for me.”

“Can you see him?”

“No.” Her eyes closed, a smile caressing her lips as his music filtered down through whatever radio wave directly into her head.

“He only appears when the sun goes down,” she whispered.

“Sounds more like a vampire.”

“Vampire. Angel. Same thing,” she said decidedly.

“And you can hear him right now?”

“No,” she said.

“He’s gone now.” She turned her head, testing her strength. She pulled her arms free of the restraints, sitting up in one fluid moment.

“Hey!” Daniel laughed; his expression incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

*****

“She seems to be experiencing two separate and completely different personalities. She is hallucinating, possibly even shares these hallucinations which is—” he shook his head, a mystified smile playing around the corners of his mouth—“impossible.” He groaned; his humor focused inward.

“She also seems have acquired the ability to use post hypnotic suggestion to control the staff in residence. She has displayed a disquieting talent for prophecy or clairvoyance.” A sharp rap on the door drew his attention. He clicked off the recorder.

“Enter.” He called out vigorously.

“You busy?” Jewell asked from the door.

“No, no. Come on in,” he said, dropping the tape on his desk.

“How is she?” he questioned softly.

“The same.” She looked dubious. “You know, possessed.”

“She’s not possessed,” he said grimly, wondering who he was trying to convince.

“Do you think she did it?”

He pressed his lips together tightly, taking in a deep breath.

“No, but she may know who did.” He opened the desk drawer, rifling around in there a moment before pulling out a business card. He read the name on the business card.

Detective Brandon Hrapski.

“May as well get this over with,” he said, dispassionately, picking up the phone to his left.