A Night at the Asylum (13 page)

“Wait…what? Why?” My blood pulsed erratically
in my temples. How could he say what he’d said and just go? I stood
up, pleading, though I barely had the strength. “Just stay for a
few more minutes…I’ll make some coffee,” I said much too brightly.
He looked at me strangely.

“I’ll take some of that,” Ira
interjected.

Emmett backed away, his body momentarily
gripped by violent tremors. “I…I can’t. I have to go,” he
repeated.

I reached for him, but he sidestepped me.
“Emmett, please.” Begging now, I didn’t care if Ira, or anybody
else, overheard. There was more he needed to tell me, more to
understand. “Please. You…you aren’t well. Just…stay…” I thought of
the black cloud in Jamie’s eyes when she’d told me Emmett was in
trouble. I thought of his torment when he said he needed to tell me
one last thing. And I knew, if I let him walk out of here, I’d
probably never see him again.

I reached out and caught his arm. Our eyes
locked for a moment, and he seemed to be trying to convey something
to me that I could not read. He leaned toward me, against me, using
me for support. His scruffy cheek brushed mine softly, his hand on
my elbow, drawing me close.

“I did what I promised her I’d do,” he
whispered, his breath warm on my ear but freezing me in place. “And
I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for everything.” He pulled back and looked
in my eyes again. At that moment I tried to memorize his face: his
warm emerald eyes, his red lips, the lock of auburn hair flopping
over his forehead. He released me. Then he walked slowly,
carefully, out the door, and it closed noiselessly behind him.

****

Seven O’Clock

I don’t know how long I stood there staring
after Emmett, but another request for coffee from Ira Banks finally
broke me from my stupor. I turned and went directly to the kitchen
and shoved a pan of pastries in the oven, finished loading the ice
machine, scrambled a giant bowl of eggs. Everything I did was an
attempt to keep my mind from accepting what had just happened, and
yet the weight of it began to creep in. I tossed down the whisk I
was using to violently beat the hell out of some innocent yolks and
collapsed against the wall, taking huge gasping breaths. If what
Emmett had told me was true, if he wasn’t crazy or a seriously
demented liar, Ead had definitely killed Jenny Allison. He’d
murdered
her. And Tommy.

And Emmett had proof.

I tried to concentrate on what I was doing.
Instead I kept staring off into space. The resounding mantra my
mind was endlessly repeating was one of disbelief: How could I have
let him go? Seriously. How could I have let him go?

The asylum was scheduled to be torn down this
morning…and the proof Emmett claimed was there would be gone. And
he would be too, if I didn’t help him.

I didn’t know how I would find him, but I had
to try. He was still out there somewhere, in danger. Dying.

“Sara? What’s wrong?”

It was my father. How long had I been
standing here burning these eggs?

My spatula went flying through the air,
landing on the floor with a clatter. “I have to go take care of
something,” I called, headed toward the door. Daylight was in full
bloom on the other side of the windows, the sky and the street
blue-gray and cold. I pulled on my messenger bag. My dad stood with
his hands in the air in bewilderment, and though I felt an enormous
amount of guilt leaving him like this, it was time.

It was time to grow up.

“Sara, where are you going?” he called after
me in exasperation.

I turned around long enough to fill a
Styrofoam cup with soda and give him a hug. I just had this weird
feeling both were necessary. “Love you, Dad,” I said, and went out
the door without another word.

My thoughts were racing about leaving more
than the restaurant. I wanted to be free of this town. Now more
than ever, I wished I had never left my house last night, but I
felt I could never go back. I saw in my mind’s eye a strip of
dominoes crashing into one another in a sequence that once started,
couldn’t be stopped.

I bent my head to pull my car keys out of my
bag.

When I looked up, there was a tall,
dark-haired guy standing in front of me on the sidewalk. He was
very handsome, like someone out of a Bollywood movie. His blue
t-shirt was stretched across a lean but muscular frame, and if I
hadn’t known what a big teddy bear he was, I might have been a bit
frightened. “Jon. What are you doing here?” Under normal
circumstances I liked Raymond’s brother, was even happy to see he
was okay, but I was very possibly on the verge of a nervous
breakdown. I took a wobbly step backward. He was carrying my jacket
in his hands, and there was a bandage across his knuckles,
undoubtedly a badge of his confrontation with Ead.

As we stood there staring at each other, a
girl climbed out of a black car next to mine. She walked up behind
him and it took me only a second to recognize her, though she
looked very different from what I remembered. She was thin and
beautiful, her round black eyes matching her hair, a lovely
contrast to her pale, perfect skin. She was dressed almost
conservatively, in dark blue jeans and a red sweater that was the
same shade as her lipstick.

Bonita Taylor.

“What do you want?” I asked sharply. Why
hadn’t I left just two minutes earlier?

“We’ve been up all night…hope your dad’s got
the coffee going. Jamie wanted me to bring this to you,” Jon said,
handing me my jacket. “I saw her at the hospital, and Cole said you
guys happened to be there when Sutter and I got into our
little…scuffle…last night. Is that true?”

I sidestepped him, grabbing the car key on my
mother’s overpopulated key ring. I’d forgotten about the
lightning-fast information chain in this town. But I couldn’t be
angry with Cole; I’d never told him it was a secret that Ead had
been after us in his car. I took a deep breath, forced myself to
speak normally, in spite of the fact that my brain was screaming
for me to get the hell out of this parking lot. “It
is
true.
But I can’t talk about that now. I’m really in a hurry.”

“Well – wait,” Jon called. I stopped in front
of the car door, quivering with impatience. “Bonita’s dad has some
contacts here. He’s trying to build a case against Ead.” He smiled
ruefully. “I’ve been waiting for that son of a bitch to make a
wrong move for a long time, just to get him on something.” His eyes
flashed. He’d suspected Ead was responsible for Jenny’s
disappearance just like everyone else, and just like everyone else,
he had never found proof.

Just like everyone else…except my brother.
But what good was proof if no one believed it?

For one second I considered telling him about
Emmett. A memory came back to me then, playing out in my head a
conversation I hadn’t realized the meaning of before. Now, in the
proper context, it all seemed very clear.

It was a Sunday, a few weeks after Jenny had
disappeared, and several weeks before Tommy died. We’d just gotten
home from church, one of the last times I went with my parents. Of
course Tommy had stayed home. My mother and father had long since
given up the fight with their stubborn son who seemed determined to
find his own way.

I’d walked down the hall, shedding my binding
church clothing, and as I changed into shorts, I heard an argument
coming from the other side of my brother’s bedroom door.

The person I heard in Tommy’s room was Jon,
and they were talking about Jenny. I closed my door just enough so
that I could listen and hide behind it at the same time.

“Just shut up about Jenny,” Jon was growling,
in an angry voice I didn’t recognize. “I know you believe in this
bullshit, but that is so wrong. I’m not kidding.”

“It’s not bullshit, Jon. It’s proof!”

“It’s a fucking board game, dude. Get it out
of my face before I smash it.”

“You don’t understand…there’s more to it than
that! It’s not just the board! Listen!”

There was a loud clatter and Jon had walked
out of the room and out of our house. It had been the last time I’d
seen him before Tommy’s funeral.

No. I would not tell Jon. Not until I had
what I needed to convince even myself.

I looked at Bonita, staring at me warily, her
red lips pressed into a grim line. Had she known? Is that why she
left? If they were so close…had Tommy confided in her? Is that what
she wanted with my family after all this time?

“So will you talk to him…tell him what you
saw?” Jon asked.

I was momentarily confused. “Who?”

“Bonita’s father.”

I shook my head. “Tell him to check the dash
cam. It incriminated me well enough.”

“Already did. Ead’s is broken. Of
course.”

“I’ll answer his questions, Jon, but not now.
I’ve gotta go.”

“You know, he came after the Mustang thinking
Bonita was driving alone,” Jon growled, referring to Ead. “Like
he’s been waiting all this time to see her in town again. You can
bet he didn’t bank on me being there to kick his ass.”

Bonita suddenly pushed past Jon, inhaling
loudly. “Sara…I need to talk to you about something too. Is your
mother here?”

“My mother?” I echoed questioningly. What the
hell did she want with my mother? “She never comes up here during
the day.” My voice was sour and sharp. “In fact, she’s rarely awake
during the day anymore. What’s it to you?”

“I really need to talk to you about
something…all of you. I’ve been trying to call, but…” Jon gave her
a look that seemed to suggest she zip it, and she pressed her lips
into a line again.

I couldn’t even croak out a response. The
keys slipped out of my fumbling fingers, landing with a clatter on
the pavement. When I bent to pick them up my eyes fell on the
backseat of Bonita’s black Mustang. There was a sunshade in the
window, a scattering of toys…and a baby seat.

She read the question on my face. “It belongs
to my son,” she said quietly.

I couldn’t take one more dramatic irony
today.

“Screw. You,” I swore at her, my anger slow
and emphatic. I climbed into my mother’s car, peeling out like a
bat out of hell. Not my most mature moment, but all I could think
of under the circumstances.

I couldn’t dwell on it or even consider it.
What I could consider was all the searching I would soon be doing
followed by all the leaving I’d be doing after that, forgetting
this town once and for all. I had money – not a lot, but enough for
a bus ticket to somewhere that wasn’t here. It’d be good to be on
my own.

With one hand on the wheel and one free, I
finagled my phone out of my bag and flipped it open. Who even had a
flip phone anymore? The stupid thing was ancient. I dialed Jamie’s
number, trying to ignore the beeping of the battery. I still hadn’t
had time to charge it.

Jamie answered immediately. “We’re already at
the asylum, Sara, can you meet us here?” she barked in that same
tone she’d had in her message. “Some really crazy things have
happened, and we need to talk.”

“You’ve got that right,” I said scornfully.
“Emmett found me. And I have to tell you what he told me. Unless
you already know,” I said accusatorily.

“What?” Her voice cut out. She hadn’t heard
me. “We’re in the Men’s Ward. Hurry. Call me when you get here…”
She was garbled again. All I caught was “pockets”.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I clapped
the phone shut.

Hysteria welled inside me. Where would I even
begin to look for Emmett now?

I had gone only a few miles, my mind whirring
with plans, actions, when I caught a movement in the rearview
mirror. I cried out and turned to the back seat.

Emmett was there, lying in the floorboard. My
heart thumped in pure panic. He didn't look like he was breathing.
I shouted at him and reached back to shake him, frantic. “Emmett!
Please answer me!”

He made a low moaning sound. He was alive,
but he wasn’t waking up.

I continued to talk to him, to fill his
silence with my desperation. “Please, Emmett, you have to be okay.
You are the only one who can help me. You've got to wake up!” I
felt like sobbing. He and I – we just couldn’t catch a break.

“Come on, Emmett, stay with me!” I called
back to him. My skin melted into his when I touched his face. I
felt the rough stubble on his cheek, then moved my hand down and
placed it on his chest. Even through his thick sweatshirt his heart
was beating, fast and hard.

The town flew by me on either side until
finally it was in the rearview mirror. I was on the long empty
stretch of highway that would bring me out to that decaying,
hulking building that I was sure only hours before had been calling
to me. I pulled over to the side of the road, leaving the engine
running, to find out for sure if Emmett was alright. Just because I
could still feel his hummingbird-fast heartbeat under my hand
didn’t mean he was going to make it much longer.

I slammed the car into park and scrambled out
the door, throwing myself into the backseat. “Emmett, you have to
talk to me.” I tried to pull him up off the floorboard, but he was
dead weight. He needed sugar again, that had to be it. I leapt
forward and started pilfering through all the crap in the console
like a madwoman. I tossed myself into the front seat and emptied
the glove compartment. There had to be something in this car –
candy, gum, something – and I had to find it. My mother was
hoarding ketchup packets but there wasn’t much more than that. What
good would it have done anyway? I couldn’t very well poke candy
into an unconscious person’s mouth. I had the soda but I couldn’t
expect him to drink it now. In a last ditch frenzy I reached into
the pockets of my jacket and furiously turned them wrong side
out.