One Dead Under the Cuckoo's Nest (34 page)

With fear in her eyes, she turned and ran.

Good. Now all I had to do was deal with King Kong—all by myself.

Spike is a force to be reckoned with
, I thought, as we battled it out. Sure, his strength was no match for mine, but my brains beat the heck out of his.

I was holding my own, since I managed to duck and twist to avoid several of his punches, but I still couldn't get my taser bracelet from the floor to stun him one.

I had to fight dirty with this creep, so I said, “Lalli sure punked you.” I could hardly believe that I'd used the word “punked.”

“What you talking about, bitch?”

He didn't let go, but I could feel him relax. Good. My words found his Achilles' heel. His macho self wouldn't let a female insult him. “Lalli, your girl. She's spreading it around that you belong in jail. With all the others. The whole lot of you. Ouch!” He'd tightened his hold. I could only imagine his anger, this time, was against Lalli.

“What'd she say?”

I made a few moves that maneuvered us closer to the doorway. Then, I sneezed in his face and grabbed the key from under my top.

Spike cursed at me and wiped at his face. “You're gonna pay for that.” He reached out to me.

I tried to flip him as Jagger had shown me, but his foot caught on my robe, sending us both down on the hard tile floor.

The
smack
sounded in the emptiness.

The grossness of landing on top of Spike was more than I could bear, even in my dizziness from the fall. I pushed up, noticed my bracelet near the radiator and grabbed for it. Before he could get up, I aimed it at him.

He didn't move.

Oh, shoot. Had I been responsible for another death?

Gingerly I touched his neck. A full pulsing from his carotid artery said he was still alive—but I wouldn't be for long if he woke up.

I had to get the hell out of there, but first I bent—and tasered the sucker—just in case he woke too soon.

Taking the key, I fumbled in haste to get out of the unit and into the tunnel—not sure where the hell I'd go.

“Don't fail me now, Saint T,” I whispered as I hurried through the tunnel, stopping only to unlock each door that got in my way. After several turns, I think I made a giant circle. Thank goodness it was the night shift and the tunnel was empty. Lights out must have arrived by now, and everyone would be back in their rooms. Soon they'd notice I was gone—and probably find Spike's body if he hadn't already gotten up.

I looked behind me to see the tunnel empty.

Phew. At least he wasn't following me.

Ahead was a section that proved to be a veritable maze. There were twists and turns and pipes on the ceiling spewing steam, along with cameras on the walls. I envisioned some loser of a security guard watching me—and having hysterics. Nothing looked familiar or like an exit. I had to have taken a wrong turn. Surely I should be outside by now.

I slowed and stopped to get my bearings. There were no windows in the tunnel since it was a system of walkways built under the wards. There had been a similar tunnel structure in the psychiatric hospital that I had trained in, and as students, we used to take little “detours” on the way to the wards to see what was down there.

I was trying to think of a way to escape when I heard a noise.

Footsteps. Running footsteps.

My feet were soon running too, as I tried to think of a way out of there. Then it hit me.

An emergency exit. That was it. There had to be one of those red signs posting an exit in case of fire or some other catastrophe.

I ran down a long tunnel and at the end noticed a glimmer of red. Heading in that direction, I ran as fast as I could.

Something whizzed past my head. I didn't stop to see what it was.

Okay, this was a catastrophe now—an attempted murder! Mine!

Up ahead I saw the sign. The red exit sign. Thank goodness I was a jogger.

Over my shoulder I could see a figure in a black hat, black shirt and dark pants, and I could hear the person gasping for breath.

Good, maybe he'd pass out. Obviously he wasn't a jogger.

Thank you Saint Theresa!

With shaking fingers, I hit the push bar on the door. When I ran through, I wasn't outside, but in a hallway, headed toward the main entrance. The giant public lobby.

Of course, it was empty at this time of the night.

Thank goodness I knew my way around. I also knew that the front doors were locked, since it was way after visiting hours.

I said a quick prayer that the same key unlocked all the doors in this place. Surely Jagger would have known if it didn't. He wouldn't have wanted me trapped in the maze of tunnels like some hunted animal.

The receptionist was long gone I noticed as I ran past the desk. “Damn.” I could grab her phone and dial 911 and be killed, or just get the hell out of there.

I went with get the hell out of there.

There wasn't even a guard around that I could call to. I had no idea where the guards worked. I knew from experience that the buildings were pretty darn soundproof. No one walking by outside needed to hear the ranting of a whacked-out patient.

Or the screaming of a normal person being hunted by a killer! I slowed for a second and turned.

Nothing.

Maybe I'd lost him. I sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. I couldn't keep running like that, and the searing pain in my lungs told me that I had missed way too many days of jogging. So I figured I'd rest a second or two.

I heard a door slam and decided I'd had a long-enough rest. I rushed to the front door and stuck the key in the lock and jiggled. Then jiggled some more.

The door swung open.

Thank you very much, Jagger
and
Saint Theresa.

In the darkness it was a long shot to find the Cupid statue and get my car key. But, I was damn determined. Loving life and wanting to keep living it had my adrenaline gushing. The fountain could be seen from my ward, so I headed in that direction, hoping for the best.

If I got the key and made it to my car, I could lock myself in and drive off to safety. Surely the police would come as soon as Jagger found I'd gone missing. Or, hopefully, Margaret had told him. How I wished I had my damn cell phone.

Whoosh! Whoosh
!

I screamed as I saw something swing by my arm. My legs had no choice but to carry me as fast as they could.

Damn it! The killer grazed my arm and ripped my Burberry robe. Now I was furious. I didn't see the guy, but I did get a glimpse of the weapon.

A brown metal broom handle with the tip fashioned into a point. Just like the one that had killed Vito.

The tip must have caught onto the fabric of my sleeve. My arm hurt and I reached over to feel something warm. Blood. Shoot. I'd been cut. Growing even more furious, I yanked a small branch from a nearby tree. I swished it frantically in the direction of the figure, made contact and heard a yelp—but didn't stay around to see the effects.

Too bad I hadn't seen the guy's face while he was swinging the broom handle at me. I could then tell Jagger who the fraud-committing killer was. The ringleader. Because I knew in my heart that this guy chasing me meant business and was the “brains” behind the fraud.

In the darkness I wasn't sure if it was Spike or not. The guy was tall, but maybe not as wide. Hell, I really hadn't gotten a good-enough look to be sure. Running did that to me and the darkness didn't help.

I ran until my lungs were about to explode and then hid behind a giant oak tree to listen. Nothing. Silence. Good. I slowly walked toward where I thought the fountain would be, making myself as light as I could so as not to crunch the fallen leaves beneath my feet.

Being early spring, the old leaves of fall were still scattered on the ground. Some trees still had brown leaves on them, which only fell off as the new growth approached.

I hoped I got to see the new leaves.

The grounds were, naturally, empty. To be expected in a psych hospital. No one was allowed out, visiting hours were over and no one, not even the local teens, hung around this place. Besides, it was so far off the beaten track that you couldn't expect anyone to come by.

Footsteps tapped along the ground, the sound getting louder. I let out a few “Help me” shouts, a waste of time, but I thought I'd go for it, in order to stay alive. Nothing. No reply. No cars coming in the drive.

From here I could see a light glowing on the second floor. Ward 200. It had to be. I ran my gaze from the window to the grounds and followed the line. Soon, in the distance and barely visible, was good old Cupid, standing in the water.

I ran so fast, I felt certain the guy following would pass out from lack of oxygen. Either that or I would. When I got to the fountain, I reached for the key. I patted Cupid's arm and grabbed at the cold stone.

Nothing.

No key.

I poked further into his elbow, and then I felt it! The key must have been blown down his arm by a strong wind. I touched the metal and nearly cried. Footsteps crunched in the distance. I snatched at the key and felt a sharp pain in the cut of my arm.

And heard a
plop
.

“No!” I whispered. It couldn't be. The damn key had fallen out of my grasp. There was neither time nor any way that I could find it in the murky water of the fountain.

Fighting the urge to collapse into tears, I sucked in some much-needed air and turned around. Determined to get out of there alive, I took off toward the parking lot on the western side. My car was there. If I could get to it . . .

It'd still be locked.

Mother had always drummed locking our cars into us kids. Who else locked their cars when they were parked in their own garages? She would be so upset if she knew the cause of my death was her raising us to always lock our cars.

Maybe I hadn't locked it. I told myself there was a slight possibility that I'd forgotten to lock the car when I'd driven back here.

Even I didn't believe it though.

How I wished I'd been able to wear my own clothes. Then there might have been a chance I'd have my car keys on me.

My keys.

My parents.

Nick, Goldie, Miles, Spanky, all my siblings, their kids, and spouses.

Jagger.

I slowed to rest. Tears welled up in my eyes. Hurriedly I brushed them away, looked around, and took off again.

Landscapers had worked magic on this place, but the trees seemed to pop in front of me at every turn. The grounds of the Cortona Institute of Life were picturesque, to say the least. That is, unless you were being hunted on them.

Still, the plentiful maple trees, oaks and pines gave me some place to run through, like a tree-filled maze. Had to make it harder on my pursuer.

The idea of dropping down and crying filtered through my brain again, but only temporarily.

Pauline Sokol was no quitter.

I sobbed and ran around a large oak's trunk. My ankle twisted when my foot caught on the roots sticking out of the ground. “Ouch!” I grabbed onto the trunk, sliding my hands down and scraping the skin in the process. Damn, it hurt, but I wasn't about to stop. I'd long forgotten my first injury and told myself nothing hurt. I was fine. Just fine.

So, I plowed on with a slight limp. Every once in a while I'd hear the footsteps crunching on the grass. But, determined, I decided I'd only think of my family. I'd pretend I was one of the Steelers running backs going for a touchdown with fifty seconds to go and fifty yards in the Super Bowl. Uncle Walt would be proud.

Uncle Walt!

Uncle Walt had learned caution from my mother too. As a matter of fact, I just remembered, he'd made me put a magnetic metal container under the rear bumper of my car. And inside was a spare key!

If I could make it to my car alive, I could get it. I
would
get it.

The campus was not well lit since no one usually came or went during the night except the staff. It wouldn't be time to change shifts for hours. But “someone upstairs” was looking out for me, since the moon cast a pallid glimmering between the trees. I turned to look behind me.

A black figure stood amidst the naked trees, the moon's glow catching the metal handle . . . and sparkling.

“Oh damn!” I sucked in a breath and sucked up the fact that my arm hurt, my Burberry was ruined and my ankle killed me, and decided that would be the only part of my body killed tonight.

For a second I silently watched the figure. No movement. I guessed he was scanning the area, looking for me. Slowly I turned and eased toward the parking lot. If he didn't see me, I could sneak quietly over there and give my legs and lungs and every part of my body a much-needed rest.

When I got to the edge of the tree-lined walk, I moved behind a giant oak—and stopped. Damn it all. I had to cross the drive. The wide-open drive without any protection to hide behind. I looked around.

No one.

If I ran across, the moon that had helped me earlier would surely highlight me like a spotlight. Then I'd be a perfect target for the hit. So, I shut my eyes a second to think of what Jagger would do.

Jagger.

Then I decided he'd shake his head twice at me if he saw me hesitating, so I swallowed back any tears and bent down. Jagger would use his experience. He'd use what he knew to survive.

A branch crackled in the distance.

I sunk to the ground. I had no idea what Jagger did in the military, but it gave me a survival idea.

Like a giant snake, okay maybe a big worm, I eased onto my belly and started to slither commando-style across the road. If a car did come by, I'd be road-kill.

Broken gravel dug into my skin through the expensive fabric, which was surely not designed for action like this. A long time ago, I'd ordered myself not to think of the cold. All the other pain from my ankle to my abdomen to my arm was plenty to make me want to scream. But I bit my lip, the lower one. Really bit it. And before I knew it, I was across the road, flying up from the ground and hightailing it behind the safety of the cars.