The Price of Falling (32 page)

‘That was my reason for calling,’ Dr. Harris said with a cough. ‘Jason has... left.’

I felt my blood run cold under my skin.

‘What?’ I asked quietly.

‘In fact, he climbed out of the shower room window.’

My mouth moved but I couldn't speak.

‘It's highly irregular,’ Dr. Harris continued. ‘If we'd been briefed on his sober behavior we would not have allowed him into the communal shower room unsupervised.’

‘Have you looked for him?’ I asked hoarsely.

‘Of course, but he's not on the grounds. I do have to warn you, Mr. Miller, the likelihood is that, as an addict, the first thing he'll do is look for drugs. With heroin addicts they make the often fatal mistake of taking their normal dose when their body won't need that much.’

‘Fatal?’ I repeated.

‘Yes, an over-dose.’

I stared ahead without really seeing anything. I heard Dr. Harris mutter something about passing me to Mrs. McKane. When she came on the phone she quickly apologized for the 'inconvenience' and started to ask questions, like where he would go and would I be bringing him back.

‘But I'm in New York,’ I whispered. ‘He'd probably be in the Whitlow building on the industrial estate.’

I heard a disapproving sound from Mrs. McKane. ‘We don't have the staff for search parties, Mr. Miller.’

I had no choice, I had to offer more money for their staff to do 'over-time' and look for Jason. Mrs. McKane still wasn't keen, I could tell. I was in shock but had to get them to look for him, one way or another. I hinted that I'd sue them if anything happened to him. Mrs. McKane reluctantly agreed to send two of the orderlies over the Whitlow building.

She told me she'd let me know if there was any news.

I noticed she said 'if' and not 'when.'

After I hung up the phone I balled my right hand into a fist and punched down on my wooden desk. It was a quiet sound for something that sent such excruciating pain through my hand and up my arm. I huddled over and clenched my teeth, concentrating on the pain. I had to concentrate on something else or I was going to lose it.

All I could think was, I've killed him.

They wouldn't find him until it was too late, and even if I got on a plane right
now
I'd be too late.

After a few minutes I dialed the number for Texas, getting through to the operator. I asked for the Ellwood police station, and spoke to a man who I hoped would know what he was doing.

‘Can I issue a reward for a missing person?’ I asked in as calm a voice as I could.

‘If you want,’ the man drawled in an accent similar to Blake's. ‘Send us a picture over and we'll print it up.’

‘Oh,’ I realized. ‘I need a photo.’

‘Has this person got a mug shot?’

‘Huh?’

‘Well,’ the officer explained. ‘If they've been arrested before we may have a mug shot on file.’

‘Oh, right. Yeah, maybe.’

I told him Jason's name and waited as he placed the phone down and walked away. I waited almost five minutes before he came back with the first piece of good luck that day.

‘Yep, we actually got two. Long hair, right?’

‘Yes,’ I choked. ‘How does this work then?’

‘Well, leave it with me. I'll make it up, fax you a copy over and you yay or nay it.’

I agreed, and gave them more details. The officer recommended if I wanted anyone to pay attention I should offer at least a couple of hundred dollars. I told him to put five hundred dollars on, and immediately felt awful for putting a price on the hope of finding Jason.

Over and over I thought, what have I done?

It could be too late even now. If I'd just left him alone he'd still be alive. He may have killed himself eventually but all I had done was sped up the process.

I'd never hated myself so much.

When I'd given the officer more details, especially the part about Jason being an addict, he was less sympathetic. He told me to speak to the local hospitals and give them my details once I had the poster, as he kindly informed me 'they won't take in junkies'.

‘Thank you,’ I'd said through gritted teeth. I needed his help, I couldn't be curt with him.

I waited and waited, finally my fax machine started to whir. I raced over to it as the poster rolled out. I snatched it up and stared at the black and white picture. It was definitely a mug shot; the officer had just about managed to cut off the police numbers which would have been along the bottom.

Arrested for minor theft two years ago, he had told me. It was just Jason's head and shoulders, the only picture I had. He didn't look as awful here but not that great either. He was facing the camera as was probably instructed, wearing that all-too familiar expression I'd seen so many times before, the one that was guarded and about to frown.

This will be the only picture I ever have, a voice said. I tried to ignore it as I dialed the operator again for a list of all the hospitals around Ellwood.

Calling the first one was the hardest, I hadn't worked out how to phrase what I needed and almost choked on my words. I told the receptionist I wanted to fax them a copy of the poster so they'd know to admit Jason if he happened to be found or brought in, and I'd pay the bill.

All the receptionists I spoke to accepted the information and my frantic need to repeat myself about how important it was. I realized to them, it would just be another patient or at worst, another drug addict. But to me, this was the love of my life.

Who could already be dead by now.

I was a wreck. I'd faxed out the poster to anyone in Ellwood that would care or pretend to. I couldn't do any work, my eyes kept drifting away from the desk to stare into space. When we had a meeting later I couldn't get my words out. I told everyone I didn't feel well and we wrapped up early for the day. I stayed in my office, waiting to speak to Mrs. McKane.

When I did finally speak to her, it wasn't good news. She said the orderlies hadn't found Jason. I had my doubts they'd even bothered going there but had to cling to some hope. I asked them to go again tomorrow. I had no idea how I was going to get by until then.

I called AJ from the privacy of my office. Tara had already gone home and I told Aaron I was too unwell for the gym. It was early evening now, AJ had just got home but was cheerful when he answered.

‘Hey Mike!’ he greeted. ‘We got the toys today! They're awesome, Kitty's tiny little eyes are bugging out with excitement!’

‘Oh, good,’ I said absently. ‘Um, I need to ask you something.’

AJ caught onto my tone. ‘Sure, man, what's wrong?’

‘Um, well, Jason ran off,’ I explained. ‘I thought, if you saw him, would you call Fulbourne for me? 'Cause they said it's likely he'd over-dose if he...um...’

I couldn't get my words out. I felt exhausted from repeating this likely scenario, my worst nightmare, over and over again. I took a deep breath, trying to hold it all together.

This was no time to fall apart.

‘Oh man,’ AJ sighed. ‘What a moron. You know we went through all this with him and Robin a while back. You can't tell 'em, Mike.’

‘I know but,’ I said shakily. ‘If he over-doses, it's my fault. I wanted to talk to him...’

AJ was silent for a minute. ‘Hey, I'm sure it'll be cool.’ he said. ‘Have you told the cops? We can pretend he stole something, they'd look for him then!’

‘They've done a reward poster for me.’

‘Reward? How much?’

‘Well, five hundred dollars,’ I replied, feeling awful all over again.

I'd give everything I owned to have Jason safe.

‘Five hundred dollars!’ AJ shouted down the phone. ‘Holy shit! Well if I see him first, that money's mine!’ he laughed. ‘Look man, there's nothing you can do. You've done nothing wrong, and whatever he ends up doing is his own stupid fault, same as Robin. You can't go blaming yourself.’

‘But it is my fault,’ I repeated.

‘Nothing's happened yet! Jason's not as dumb as Robin anyway, I'm sure he'll be fine. Stop worrying, go have a drink. I'm sure someone will find him for that reward. You're nuts, you know that?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I know.’

I did as AJ instructed. On my way home I stopped in a quiet bar and drank three large whiskies, one straight after another. So much for not drinking. But I had to escape my own head for a while. Before I got a cab home I bought a large bottle of whiskey to take with me.

Alicia poked her head round from the kitchen when I wobbled in. ‘Wondered where you'd gone.’

‘Had a bad day,’ I mumbled, grabbing a glass from the counter.

She noticed my right hand, which was now swollen and red.

‘What's up with your hand?’

‘Whacked it,’ I said simply, going back to the main room and flopping down on the couch. I turned the TV up loud. It didn't stop Alicia trying to ask me questions throughout the evening but I managed to deflect or ignore them until she gave up.

When she went to bed and shut her door I turned the TV down and stared at the flickering images, drinking until I eventually passed out.

I had awful dreams. It was almost a relief to wake up, until I remembered the grim reality.

With a hangover and a massively sore right hand I showered, trying to stop my mind racing away with the worst possibilities but not daring to assume anything better.

My knuckles were swollen and lumpy. It was nothing I hadn't suffered before, especially with old football injuries from high school. In fact it was good to focus on something else. I even slammed my hand against the tiled wall in the shower to make it worse.

During the morning meeting at work I wasn't really listening to my team's pitches and ideas. I suddenly realized I hadn't asked Dr. Harris what Hepatitis B was. I figured bronchitis was some sort of cough. It would be good to know.

As soon as I escaped to my office I called Fulbourne. Dr. Harris wasn't available but one of his nurses explained to me that Hepatitis B was a viral infection, likely to cause a yellowing of the eyes and skin. If left untreated could lead to severe liver damage or possibly be fatal.

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘The bronchitis was quite bad too,’ the nurse continued. ‘But that may have been made worse by the withdrawal symptoms, and would be curable with the right medication and not smoking.’

If he was around long enough, I thought.

‘OK, thanks,’ I said miserably.

I didn't feel any better for knowing any of that when Jason was nowhere to be found. I checked with Mrs. McKane later, who said that again they hadn't found him on the industrial estate.

‘Are you sure you're looking in the Whitlow building?’ I asked.

‘Quite sure, Mr. Miller,’ she replied brusquely. ‘He is not there.’

That was it then, I thought. If he wasn't there, I had no idea where he'd be. Probably curled up in a doorway somewhere, already dead. Like Robin, no-one would know at first. Maybe eventually someone would notice and he'd be reported dead.

Maybe he'd never be found, and I'd have the rest of my life to blame myself. I took a deep breath and tried to get on with work. It was hard but if I could make it until the end of the week I could maybe fly out to Ellwood again and go look for Jason myself.