My Lost Daughter (50 page)

“I'm sorry,” Lily said. “You're right, I guess.”

Shana would one day tell her mother what had transpired between her and Alex, but she couldn't discuss it right now. The wound was too raw. “Morrow was lying, Mother. Every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie. Did he tell you I was violent, that I had to be locked in a padded cell? This is an awful place. It's also a dangerous place.” She waved her arms around. “My God, the police are ready to charge me with murder. Doesn't that give you a pretty good picture of what goes on here?”

Lee stuck her head in the door and whispered, “She's here, so be careful. I wouldn't want anything to happen to your mother.”

Lily's back was turned and she didn't see Lee wink. She must have overheard their conversation and decided to give Shana a little help.

“What is she talking about?” Lily said, standing and walking over. “I'm a judge, in case you don't know. I don't think they'd have the gall to lock up a judge.”

“We've had a number of patients who were judges,” Lee told her, her eyes drifting downward. “You need to get your daughter an attorney and get her out. This isn't the first person who has died here. They always say it's suicide, but I'm not certain. I've already turned in my resignation. This is my last day.”

Shana looked over her shoulder and saw Peggy had just come on duty. She was putting her purse under the counter at the nursing station. Shana lunged forward as if she wanted to rush out and attack her, her chest rising and falling with emotion.

Gently taking her arm, Lily pulled her back from the door. “Now isn't the time to make a scene. Be smart, Shana. Once we get you out of here, we'll put this hellhole out of business. Right now, you have to go along with the program.”

“See that woman at the counter, the heavyset woman? She's the one who put me in the padded cell. I was in there for almost twelve hours. I didn't have any food or water. I had to pee on the floor like a dog.” She became emotional and started crying. “You have to get me out of here, Mother. You have to get me out of here today.”

“I'll do everything I can, Shana. I'll hire an attorney first thing in the morning, but I can't promise anything. I don't know what's involved yet.”

Shana started to lose it, grabbing the lapels of her mother's jacket. “Not another night here. You don't understand. I'm in danger. Pay someone, bribe them, anything. All they want anyway is money. You can't leave me here. Please, please . . . for the love of God, get me out of here!”

Lily pried her daughter's hands off her jacket and clasped them
in her own. “Calm down, Shana. You have to calm down. If you don't stop acting this way, I'll never get you out. Acting like this is how you got here.”

Shana saw that it was more than her behavior that was bothering her mother. With the baggy green pajamas, no shoes, and her unkempt hair, she must look completely mad.

“Are you sick or something?” Lily asked, one hand moving to her chest. “My God, Shana, you're emaciated. You look like you've lost ten pounds.”

Shana slipped her hands out of her mother's and let them fall by her sides. “It's the pajamas, but you're right. If I keep shaking things up, Peggy will have them put me in a straitjacket.”

“You've lost far too much weight. Haven't you been eating?”

“Losing weight is the least of my problems,” Shana said. “Please, Mom, can't you even try to get me out today? It's only a few minutes past eight. You might still have time to find an attorney. Go to the jail. Lots of attorneys put their cards there. The police haven't charged me, so they have no right to hold me. Am I right?”

“Okay . . . okay,” Lily said, her nerves jangled. “I'll leave now. As soon as I get the wheels in motion, I'll be back.” She kissed Shana on the cheek. “It's almost over, honey. You've made it this far so just stay safe until I get back.”

Shana felt bad for her mother. Desperate for someone to help her, she'd completely overwhelmed her. Lily was a judge and her daughter was now a suspect in a homicide. That alone was enough to drive a person over the edge. None of her problems had easy solutions, and she was demanding that her mother fix them instantly. The last thing she wanted was to leave Lily with the impression that she belonged in a hospital like Whitehall. She forced herself to calm down and spoke in a calm, moderated tone. “Can you please bring me some clothes? I can't leave in these pajamas.”

“Just relax. I'll take care of everything.”

After Lily left, Shana rushed back to her room. She was upset when she saw the guard had gone, but she doubted if he could have protected her anyway. The battle had begun and it wasn't between
her and the police. Morrow couldn't afford to let her walk out of the hospital, not with the information she had uncovered. It was more than the hospital losing their license, which she felt confident her mother would make happen. Kidnapping was a serious crime and she was only one of what might be hundreds of victims. If Morrow was convicted on numerous counts of kidnapping, the psychiatrist could spend the rest of his life in prison. He would do his best to keep her here and he had more than enough tools to do so. He could drug her and have his minions transfer her in their fake ambulance to a state mental institution where she might be lost forever. No matter who came or what they said, short of a fire, Shana wasn't leaving her room until her mother came back to get her.

After an hour or so had passed, she heard a knock on her door and jumped up, thinking it was her mother. Instead she heard May's lyrical voice. “I'm leaving, Shana. I wanted to tell you good-bye.”

Shana was tempted to open the door and let her in, but thoughts of Alex standing behind her stopped her. “I'm sick. I just threw up, May. I'll come out as soon as I stop barfing.”

“You promise, sugar?”

“I promise.”

No one else came to the door. At least Alex had the sense to stay away. She remembered the newspaper article and rushed to her closet, digging in the pocket of the jeans she'd been wearing. It was gone. She searched the entire closet, tossing everything out into the center of the room, but the frayed piece of newsprint was nowhere to be found.

Alex must have snuck into her room while she was outside talking to Lily. Had he bribed the guard to leave? What other reason could there be? Of course, Lily may have only hired the guard until she arrived, but it seemed foolish to leave her alone now that she'd left.

She peeked outside, hoping she would catch Alex walking away with May. Peggy wasn't at the counter but she could see a portion of her enormous frame inside the isolation wing. Alex had surprised her when she had searched his room. The newspaper article must be important to him. She remembered the dates and names,
though, so she could find the article in the newspaper's archives when she was released.

Maybe there was something else in Alex's room that would shed light on some of the things that had occurred. She knew she was placing herself at risk, but her desire to figure out a man she'd felt so passionately about overcame her fear. This would be her final excursion.

Keeping her back pressed to the wall so she could keep track of what was going on in the great room, she sidestepped to Alex's room and quickly ducked inside. The bed was made and the room looked unoccupied. She'd already decided that Alex was a neat freak.

Shana flung open the closet door and stared in astonishment. Empty! Where were all his clothes, his wardrobe for every occasion? She heard a voice somewhere and ran to the back of the room, fearing that if Alex was still at the hospital he might be at dinner. Dinner was served at six, but Alex liked to linger outside in the courtyard afterwards.

For the first time she realized Alex had a window. Most of the rooms didn't have windows, but she should have known that he would have the best room in the hospital. Now that she looked at it in the light, she saw his room was considerably larger than the others. She whipped back the curtains and found a brick wall outside, probably the back of one of the offices she'd seen in the courtyard.

There were handprints all over the glass. She saw a dried substance, almost like dirt or mud. Using her fingernail, she chipped it off into her hand and then brought it to her nose. Blood! She had once cut her hand trying to cut up a chicken and had bled all over the kitchen in her apartment. She had tried to get it all up, but evidently some of the blood had seeped underneath the refrigerator. A few weeks later, her small apartment had started stinking and Brett had moved the refrigerator, finding what they later determined was dried blood. She couldn't be certain without a lab analysis, but once a person smelled old blood, they never forgot it.

A short distance away, there was laughter in the courtyard and the shuffle of feet. She managed to sneak back to her room without
anyone seeing her. Just as she was about to get back in bed, she heard another tentative knock at the door.

 

Lily drove to the sheriff's office and asked to speak to the detective assigned to the Norman Richardson homicide. A short time later, a man who appeared to be in his late forties, with messy brown hair and bloodshot eyes, came out to speak to her. “What can I do for you?”

Lily shook his hand and then told him, “My name is Lily Forrester. I'm a superior court judge in Ventura County. I believe you spoke to my daughter, Shana, regarding the Richardson homicide.”

“You're really a judge, huh? Holy shit, I thought she . . .”

“Lied,” Lily said with a stern gaze. “No, she didn't lie and I resent the fact that you didn't take her seriously.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her ID, practically shoving it into his face. “Before the people at Whitehall kidnapped her, my daughter was only months away from receiving her law degree from Stanford. Shana intends to become a prosecutor. She would never jeopardize her reputation by falsifying statements to the police. Unless you possess sufficient evidence to charge her in the death of Norman Richardson, tell me why my daughter has been strapped to a bed and denied her free will. Can you do that, detective?”

Lily felt certain the detective was an alcoholic. He began breathing heavily and she could smell bourbon on his breath. Either that or the alcohol in his bloodstream had reached such a toxic level that it was seeping through his pores. His cheeks were ruddy and the veins in his face were indicative of a person who consistently abused alcohol. She also noticed that he was jaundiced, which meant his liver was already damaged or on its way to complete failure.

“Listen,” he said, dark stains dampening his armpits. “We're not the ones who ordered the restraints. The hospital did. We considered your daughter a person of interest in the Richardson case because one of the nurses at Whitehall found her standing over the victim's body. When you showed up, I was about to call the hospital
and tell them to release her. The medical examiner ruled Norman Richardson's death a suicide today. He made a previous attempt to kill himself by setting himself on fire. According to his shrink, Richardson's suicidal tendencies were the primary reason he was at Whitehall.” He paused and coughed. “I saw him at the scene and trust me, I wouldn't want to live either if I looked like this guy. He had burns over ninety percent of his body.”

“So my daughter is free to leave?”

Lindstrom ran his fingers through his hair. “She's free to leave anytime she wants, okay? I assume she'll be returning to Ventura with you, so I'd appreciate you giving me her contact information in case we need any additional information from her. I don't think we will, but that's standard policy in cases of this nature. I mean, a man did die.”

Lily was relieved but she maintained the same stoic demeanor. She should just walk out the door and forget it, but alcoholics destroyed an untold number of lives. “It's my professional opinion that you're incompetent to operate a motor vehicle, detective. I don't see how you can continue your duties as a police officer if you can't drive. I would also suggest that you see a liver specialist as soon as possible.”

The detective looked down at the floor. “I already have,” he told her. “I need a liver transplant, but as you probably know, I'm not likely to get one. People like me go to the bottom of the list. I'll more than likely die before I get a new liver. And as to your comment about me performing my duties as an officer, I put in my resignation last week. Thirty days, and I'm a civilian.”

“That's too bad,” Lily said, sorry to see another man's life destroyed by his drinking habits. She'd heard her ex-husband, Bryce, was finally on the wagon and attending AA on a regular basis, but you could never count on a drunk. An alcoholic usually had to hit bottom more than once before they either died or decided to maintain their sobriety.

“Good luck,” Lily told him. “You still might be able to turn your life around. If you keep drinking, though, and your doctor
finds out, you definitely won't get a new liver. For whatever it's worth, I'll keep you in my prayers.”

 

“Open the door, Shana,” Lily said, knocking louder. “It's me, your mother.”

Shana opened the door and pulled her inside, then quickly closed it again. “Was there anyone out there?”

“A lot of people.”

“Was there a good-looking man out there with dark hair?”

“What's this about, honey?”

“It's a simple question, Mother. Was he out there or not?”

“I saw that heavyset lady and a man in green pajamas who was walking fast. He had a frenetic look in his eyes. Is that the man?”

“No, that was Milton.”

“Oh,” Lily said, setting her suitcase down by her bed. “I didn't book a hotel room. I was going to stay at your apartment but that won't be necessary now.”

Shana dusted the dried particles of blood she'd scraped from Alex's window into a department store bag where the makeup Alex had given her had been. “You pay the rent, Mother. You can stay at my apartment anytime you want.” Having completed her task, she turned and faced Lily. “Were you able to hire an attorney?”