JACK (19 page)

Dr. Chance and Dan escorted them down the hall. They stopped in front of us.

“Jacqueline, Noah, these are the officers I told you about. They’ve come to talk to you about Grom.” Dr. Chance motioned toward the men. He looked nervous.

Noah grabbed my hand. His grip made my fingers ache but I didn’t pull away.

“Gentlemen, I have a room down at the end of the hall with chairs so you can talk in privacy.” Dr. Chance led the way and Dan ushered us along.

“Jack.” Noah’s voice was almost back but it had regressed into a whisper again.

“I’m right here.”

“I’m scared.”

I was too. “It will be okay.”

The room was like all the rest but the bed had been replaced by several plastic chairs from the dining room. Dr. Chance stood by while everyone sat.

The shorter of the two detectives sidestepped over to Dr. Chance. “We need privacy.”

Dr. Chance glanced our way. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

“We need to talk with them. We’ve been gracious enough to do it here rather than the precinct but we could change the arrangement.”

“It’s not that I want to be difficult, it’s that both Noah and Jacqueline are in delicate condition.”

The detective’s gaze raked over us. His mouth curled. “They look fine to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Ten minutes, that’s all I’m asking for. Once I get the story and we’ve confirmed no foul play was involved then my people and I will be gone.”

“I don’t see why you’re even here. This is nothing like what happened when Noah came here.”

“You don’t know that and neither do we. We need to talk to them, alone. I’m asking nicely, Dr. Chance.” The detective’s words were bitter and clipped.

Dr. Chance nodded and motioned Dan to join him in the hall. The door shut and we were left with four men towering over us and no space to move. The two officers moved to the back wall standing like gargoyles while one detective sat and the other stood.

The one standing introduced himself. “My name is Detective Gary Rogers, my partner is Victor Jones. Do you know why we’re here?”

“Yes, sir.”

Noah only nodded.

“Mr. Greenwich was a patient here. According to the staff you two were his friends and spent a lot of time with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Roger’s gaze slid to Noah. “What about you?”

“He doesn’t talk much.”

“But he can talk.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I need him to talk now.” He moved in close and Noah shrank away. “Are you afraid of me, boy?”

Noah clenched his eyes shut.

“Is there a reason why you’re afraid? Something you need to tell me?”

Noah shook his head.

“Say it, I want to hear it.”

The “no” was small.

The detective stepped back. His shiny black shoes squeaked as he made half a lap around the room. His gaze was heavy, his presence foreboding. A living storm dressed in a nice suit.

Detective Jones pulled a notebook from the inside of his coat and opened it up. “Tell us what happened on the roof.”

“Grom jumped,” I said.

“How did he get up there?”

“The stairs.”

“And you went with him?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I glanced at Noah.

“Answer the question, Ms. Jacqueline.” He said ‘Jacqueline’ like it was a sharp stick he could jab me with. A nasty smile twisted Jones’ mouth.

“He wanted to show us his greatest spell.”

The entire room broke out in laughter.

“What kind of spell?” And he said ‘spell’ like it tasted bad. When I stayed quiet he said, “Answer the question, Ms. Jacqueline.”

“It was a spell of flying.”

Rogers circled back around and put one hand on the back of each of our chairs. Noah tried to bolt and the man yanked him back in his seat. “Sit. I’m not done yet.”

I put an arm over Noah’s shoulders. “Please. He’s scared.”

“Maybe he should be. Maybe he has a reason to be.” Rogers yanked Noah, in his chair, all the way across the room, pinning him into a corner. Noah’s blue eyes widened, his face paled. He lifted his arms as if to defend himself from being hit. Rogers did not raise his hand.

“Stop!” I tried to stand but Jones yanked me into my seat by the back of my shirt.

Rogers was inches from Noah’s face. “Dr. Chance says you can be a mean son-of-a-bitch. Is that what happened? Did Mr. Greenwich say the wrong thing to you? He pissed you off, so you gave him a little shove off the edge of the building?”

Noah shook his head.

“Talk to me!”

He shook his head again.

Roger’s palm slapped against the brick close to Noah’s head. “Tell me what I want to know, boy! Don’t make me put the cuffs on you! Don’t make me haul you off. You’ve got the Ritz here compared to the kind of hell I can put you in!”

Noah’s hands clutched the edge of the chair. His knuckles were white. He tried to keep his gaze on me but the detective stepped in the way.

“Me, boy, look at me. Not your girlfriend!”

“Stop, please.” Noah’s voice was the loudest I’d heard it in weeks.

“Ah, so you can talk.” The detective slapped his palm against the wall again. “Tell me what happened.”

I fought against Jones. “He fell! Grom fell. We didn’t do anything!”

Rogers pointed a finger at me. “You, shut up. When I want to hear you speak I’ll ask you.” He motioned to one of the officers. The man walked over. “Give me your matches.” The man looked surprised but did as he was asked.

“What are you doing?” This time when I pulled, Jones grabbed my arm.

Rogers loomed over Noah. “Dr. Chance says you’re afraid of fire. Is that true?” He held the book of matches out, letting Noah get a good look at them. Noah’s chest pumped. His breathing grew so rapid I could hear it even against the sounds of my struggles against Jones. “You afraid of fire, Noah?”

Noah nodded.

“Then tell me what happened. You pushed Mr. Greenwich. You killed him, didn’t you? It’s not the first time, is it Noah? That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Rogers’ words weighted me down and I quit struggling. Noah’s gaze met mine. His eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

“That boy in the foster home. The one who teased you. You bashed his head in with a rock. Did you think I forgot who you were?” The detective looked at me. “Did you know that about your boyfriend here? He killed a kid? Crushed his skull? Too young to send to jail so they stuck his ass in here.”

Noah’s lips moved but I was too far away to hear him.

“Tell me, Noah! Tell me that you killed that old man!”

“It was my fault!” The room when quiet and everyone looked at me.

“What did you say?” Rogers turned.

I shook my head, and then I nodded. “Stop yelling at him. He didn’t do anything. It was my fault. I promised to help.”

“You pushed him?”

Jones’ grip tightened on my arm. I could barely feel my hand. “Answer him, young lady.”

Tears soaked my cheek and snot covered my upper lip. I tried to wipe my nose with the hem of my shirt but Jones wouldn’t let me. “We didn’t push him. He jumped. But I helped him get on the roof.”

“How?”

“I stole a key.”

“From who?”

“The custodian.”

Rogers leaned in until his face was inches from my own. The fingers of his right hand dug into my cheeks until my lips puckered in an obscene kiss. “Where is the key?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t remember. All I could see was him; anger in his cold eyes, the pock marks on his face highlighted by the red fury staining his cheeks. He squeezed my face harder.

“I don’t believe you. See, I know how Noah over there works. Turns on the tears, plays innocent. I saw what he did to the Everwood boy. I saw his brains smashed all over the carpet. He’d beat the boy so hard pieces of his skull had to be cut out of the floor.”

I looked over at Noah. He curled up in the chair, arms over his face. I didn’t want to believe he’d done it, but I also knew what kind of fury he was capable of. I’d seen the monster inside him.

Rogers all but threw me against the back of my chair. He walked over to Noah. “Last chance.”

Noah didn’t answer.

It was almost like a magic trick. The detective jerked his arm out, yanking up his sleeve, while at the same time flipping over the match book. He held it away from his body. Displaying it to Noah, letting him get a good look at how he carefully folded the page over capturing the match head between the bed of matches and the front. The strike was quick, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the room and the hiss of phosphorus match head sputtered to life. An orange flame danced at the end, eating its way up the stick.

Noah’s arms fell some, revealing one wide eye over his wrist. The shaking in his body stilled while his pulse roared, beating in his throat so hard I could see it pulse against his skin. The detective barely moved the flame an inch and Noah erupted.

I don’t know if he hit the man with his fists or his head but the detective fell back, his nose a bloody crushed mess in the middle of his face. Noah grabbed the chair he was sitting on and flung it across the room. I ducked just in time. The leg caught Jones and the end punched through his eye. He yelled in pain and the other two cops descended.

Arms, legs, teeth, Noah clawed his way through the two men, kicking, screaming. Without his voice back it was a graveling hissing sound. The rumble of a beast. His hands dug into one man’s scalp, ripping free wads of hair. His mouth latched onto the other one’s face and he bit clean through the man’s cheek.

They tried to take him down, but the fury infecting Noah wouldn’t be stopped. He shoved one of them back and punched the other one in the throat. Noah’s face was a macabre mask of blood stained teeth and feral eyes. His mouth gaped open but there wasn’t any sound to his screams. Just a constant hiss, like a percolating coffee pot.

They got too close again and somehow Noah grabbed a gun from one of their belts.

“Noah!” I reached out to him but he didn’t see me. Eyes glazed with madness, he only saw the fire that was no longer there.

On the ground Rogers pulled his gun and fired, but with his face a mess, his aim was off. The bullet hit the wall next to Noah’s head.

The following gunshots were a deafening boom-boom-boom. Louder than the thunder of any storm I’d ever heard making my ears ring. The cops ducked, the door opened and everyone made a mad dash for the hall. Except for Rogers, he wasn’t moving. The click, click of a trigger being pulled punctuated the sudden silence. I could hear yelling outside the door. I pushed it shut and locked it. I knew the orderly would have a key to the lock so I shoved a chair under the door handle.

Noah remained where he was, eyes wild, teeth bared, finger pulling the trigger over and over. He seemed oblivious to the fact the gun was empty and the man he was aiming at was already dead.

“Noah.” I eased closer. Rage and fear shook him head to toe. He blinked back sweat and blood. He kept pulling the trigger. “Noah.”

I didn’t know if he was wearing out or if he heard me, but the click, click of the trigger slowed, and then stopped.

“Noah, look at me.” He stared at the dead cop. His face fell and his knees folded. I could only hope he wouldn’t bash me in the head with the gun. I decided the chance was worth comforting him. I went to him and got on my knees. He looked at me, so scared, so apologetic.

I knew then he had bashed that boy’s head in. But I also knew what made him do it.

I shushed Noah and put my arms around him. His body continued to shake, but it was tears instead of anger. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head.

“It’s okay, Noah. It’s not your fault.” It wasn’t anyone’s fault but the dead cop. I held Noah and stared at the man. His eyes were open, his chest pitted with crimson blotches. He smelled like rich earth and copper pennies.

“Jacqueline?” Dr. Chance was just on the other side of the door.

“I’m okay.”

“What about Noah?”

“He’s here with me.”

“And the detective?”

I didn’t answer. I figured the silence would be good enough.

“We need you to unlock the door and come out.”

Noah shook his head and clung tighter.

“Noah’s scared.”

“No one will hurt him.”

I didn’t believe Dr. Chance. I wanted to, but I didn’t.

“They scared him, Dr. Chance. Detective Rogers lit a match.”

Angry murmurs and muffled shouts came from the outside. I stroked Noah’s head. “We have to go out there.” He squeezed tighter. “We have to Noah, please. If we don’t they’ll break down the door and maybe worse.”

The tears made clean streaks through the blood on his face. He didn’t have to speak to tell me what he was afraid of.

“I’ll make him promise. He won’t do that to you.”

“Jacqueline?” There was less noise when Dr. Chance’s spoke again. “Please open the door.”

“What are you going to do?”

“First, make sure you’re all right.”

“We’re fine. Then what?”

“We’ll have to discuss that.”

“We need to discuss it now.”

“Jacqueline, if you do not open this door, they will open it for you. I don’t want to see you or Noah shot.”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“I’ll address that issue later. Now please.” Real desperation flavored his words.

“Noah.” He looked at the door. “We have to.” He let me go and I stood up. Noah stayed in the corner like a crumpled doll. On the way to the door I stepped in a puddle of blood, the sticky warm wet squished up between my toes. I swallowed back the burning in my throat.

“Jacqueline?”

“I’m here.”

I heard him sigh. “Thank God. Now open the door.”

“Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

“Jacqueline—”

“Promise me!”

“No one will hurt Noah.”

“Just you.”

“I can’t handle him alone.”

“Then just you and Dan.”

I heard him move. Maybe his shoulder brushed against the door. “I don’t have time for games.”

“Just you and Dan. Noah won’t fight you. He promises not to fight you.” I could only hope he wouldn’t. I glanced back. Noah stared at his hands, not moving.

“I promise, now open the door.”