The Doctor: An Oliver Perritt Thriller: An Oliver Perritt Thriller, #1

By Erica R. Stinson

When Avery Hansen awakens, it's not to the warmth of her bed, but to the sterile white walls of an unfamiliar hospital room. Her mind races with fragments of the night before—a gathering of girlfriends at the local bar, laughter echoing in the air amid clinking glasses and upbeat chatter—now drowned by the eerie silence and the pungent scent of antiseptic. 

 

Baffled and increasingly scared, Avery pleads with the nurse to let her leave, but all she hears is, 'The Doctor will see you shortly.' The eerie calmness of the woman, who keeps repeating the same phrase, sends shivers down her spine, making her feel more trapped and anxious by the minute.  Questions swirled in her mind, but one thing was painfully clear—she was trapped, and the staff showed no signs of letting her leave.

 

Startled to discover she's not alone in the facility, Avery finds other women there, seemingly under the influence of strong medication, behaving contentedly. Puzzled by their altered state and growing increasingly suspicious of the food and medication she's given, Avery questions the true nature of the facility. 

 

Following a traumatic event, Avery's dread deepens as she uncovers The Doctor's malevolent plan. Her escape becomes a race against time. Every minute spent behind these walls amplifies her fear—she's sure her life's in jeopardy. With danger lurking at every corner, Avery's only hope is to outsmart The Doctor. But can she break free before becoming a pawn in a sinister game she might not survive?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erica R. Stinson
• Release date: Apr 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393294313

Erica R. Stinson

Hi there! I'm Erica R. Stinson, a suspenseful and fast-paced thriller author, known for the NYPD Detective Millicent Harvey series and the Doctor Oliver Perritt series. My love for writing is only surpassed by my love for cooking, knitting, gardening, playing chess and video games, and spending time with my niece, Gianna. I used to own Gigi Cake Shoppe, but I closed it in 2017 to focus solely on writing. I am a lifelong New Yorker, residing on the East Coast, and you can stay up to date with my latest work by signing up for updates. You can also connect with me on social media: Instagram (@authorericarstinson) Twitter (@authorericarsti) Facebook (Authorericarstinson) TikTok((@authorericarstinson) I invite you to enjoy "Succession", a free short story from the world of Oliver Perritt, simply by clicking the following link: https://linktr.ee/authorericarstinson My books, "The Doctor", "Mirror Mirror" and "Shelter" are also still available. And while I have taken down the Detective Millicent Harvey series for re-editing and re-branding, don't worry, she'll be back!

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Icon Description automatically generated

1968

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The six-year-old boy sat quietly, watching with pensive eyes as the small, shadowy figures darted around the dank, dark corners of his prison.  He could hear them fighting over the crust of bread, which he had stolen from the kitchen, that he’d thrown over from his now empty pocket.  Something squeaked loudly to his left, and his sandy-blonde head whipped around.  Another squeal from his right and the boy hunkered deeper into his small, bruised frame.

They were everywhere.

Slowly, the child felt a sudden, warm, wet heat in his crotch as the stain spread across the front of his pants, and instantly humiliation began to fill him, his head drooping.  He cried out as something sharp suddenly nipped at his bare foot and he quickly scraped it up underneath him along with the other one.  She had taken his shoes this time.  Sweater too, despite the fact that it was mid-winter in the northeastern part of the country and freezing down here.  The boy trembled as his eye caught a glimpse of something skittering towards him, belly low to the floor as it appraised him warily and he whimpered.

Please... he begged, simply as he slammed his eyelids shut over piercing, light-blue eyes, willing the creature to leave him alone.

More embarrassment as the back of his underpants now became soiled with solid filth and he wept in shame.

***

The middle-aged woman set down the tawdry romance novel she was deeply engrossed in, hidden in plain sight by the dust jacket from a much more suitable book for a lady of her caliber, jostled by the scream.  Another scream and slamming the book on the table this time, the large woman got up with a heavy sigh as she headed towards the hysterical shrieking coming from the storage room in the basement.  The last thing that Ida Haggerty needed right now was another outburst from that incorrigible child. 

On her way to her office door, Ida passed her walking stick, which was leaning up against the corner and she hefted it expertly up into her hands. 

The ornate cane was made of a somewhat heavy, expensive dark wood, and its summit was mounted with a wolf’s head, a scarlet-colored gem where its eye was supposed to be.  Ida had found it in one of the basement storage rooms once the state had taken over the building and turned it into the orphanage it now was just after she’d been hired to get the place into shape.  It wasn’t as if she needed it to walk, not really, but the cane had been so impressive as if it was made just for her.  There was no way that she could possibly leave such a relic for someone else to take.  She had immediately claimed it as her own, no one the wiser, and had kept it with her ever since.

The metal wolf’s head gleamed in the scant hallway light as she made her way down the short pathway to the basement door.  It gave her joy to tap the cane on the hardwood floors as she walked around her orphanage, keeping order.  Oftentimes a misbehaving child would find themselves struck with the butt of the cane.  Or if they really frustrated her, it would be the metal wolf’s head.

He or she would usually get into line after that.

Ida absolutely hated to have to repeat herself when laying down the law and most of the children, even the smallest ones, had already quickly learned that she ran a very tight ship.  She decided long ago that this was the best method of operating the orphanage, despite some of the others feeling that she was far too harsh.  The matron knew that the rest of the staff whispered about this behind her back but nary would one of them even speak a word of it directly to her face.

Spare the rod, spoil the child is what the good book said.

Proverbs 13:24

But not all of the children had learned how to toe the line or were even willing.  Ida decided that she would work with the boy, who apparently needed help the most until it was ingrained in him.

...hopeless child.... She muttered, moving slowly down the stairs, the cane tapping at her side on the cement steps.

Miss Haggerty? a soft, nearly musical-toned voice interrupted her thoughts, stopping the sedate woman in her tracks. Is everything all right? I heard screaming...

This was a new one to the fold, fresh out of college and very ambitious.

She’d never last here with her coddling nature towards the children.

Just fine, Miss Trimble. Go back upstairs and I will be with you shortly. Ida gave the curt retort over her shoulder as she got to the bottom of the stairs.

The young blonde was still standing, watching the stern director and her beautiful, heart-shaped face fell in despair as the faint wailing continued, along with banging against the locked door at the end of the hallway.  This social worker was going to be a problem, Ida thought as her steely, blue-grey eyes widened incredulously at the open disobedience of her subordinate, fixing the girl with a cold stare.  She would have to have yet another talk with the young woman.  Ida was already trying to see what she could do to get Susan Trimble transferred out of her administration.

Girl was a real upstart.

"Now, Miss Trimble!" Ida finally snapped when the other woman still did not move away from the stairs.

Yes, Miss Haggerty. The delicate Miss Trimble finally resigned over the wailing, her mouth turned down in a sad line as she seemingly dragged her slender figure away from the stairs.

"Quiet! Quiet, boy!" Ida snarled, banging the head of her cane against the door until the howling finally subsided.

This was not the first time she’d had to use excessive methods of deportment to make the boy understand that he was expected to behave in a certain manner.  Ida required it from all of the children, and he was no exception to this strict rule.

When Ida unlocked the door, the unmistakable smell of human waste was the first thing that assaulted her nostrils.  Raising a hand, she pinched her nostrils shut as her eyes adjusted to the sudden blanket of light from the open door, she could see the small boy huddled in the corner, crying hysterically.

"Ugh! Filthy! You are absolutely filthy!!" she screeched, grabbing him up roughly by one arm. 

His good one.

Ida made a face of disgust at the other limb hanging limply at his left side, a smooth stub where his forearm, hands, and fingers should have been at the end of it just below his elbow.  He had come to the orphanage directly from the hospital when his parents could not care for him.  The child had been her problem ever since, an unruly brat.

"You made this mess, you will clean it up. Now!" Ida spat, roughly shoving the boy out of the room and towards the closet where the disinfectant was kept. "Move!!"

Rats.... The child stammered, as his small shoulders shook and he continued to cry, There w-w-were r-r-rats....

Nonsense. Ida cut him off, waving her hand dismissively at him as he let out a high-pitched whine and his eyes gushed fresh tears, "And you know better than to lie like that."

But he wasn’t lying.

Ida had seen one of the filthy beasts herself the last time she’d sent him down here.  The place was old, run-down but she did the best that she could with what the state sent her for maintenance.  The property was a dilapidated Victorian from the last years of the 1800s that had been somewhat renovated about a decade ago to make room for the influx of orphaned kids that needed housing.

They had a total of twenty-nine children, paired up in each of the converted bedrooms, and ten social workers in addition to herself as director.  Boys in one wing, girls in the other with the employee quarters in between to keep an eye on things.  The social workers all had their own rooms but shared the water closet at the end of the hall.  Men first at six in the morning, ladies afterward at seven.  Of course, Ida’s own room, or rooms, was more of a suite with its own private bath.  As Director, she should have that convenience, and nothing was said about it when the orphanage officially opened its doors ten years ago.  She earned the privileges that she had through all of the hard work that was on her shoulders.  Basically, it all fell on Ida to keep everything in order and everyone in order.

If there was a problem, Ida handled it immediately and moved on.  The last thing she needed was a visit from the regional manager of social services on her case over a rodent infestation.  Simple mechanical rat traps had mostly done the trick, but periodically there was still the odd infestation or two.  The boy would cause the other children to get upset again if he kept on about the rats and she simply couldn’t have that.

You behave, now. She chided, lightly shoving the boy away from her as he tried to cling to her for comfort, tears staining his little cheeks as he waited for her to hug him. Go on. Clean it up.

The youth was forced back into the empty, smelly room to clean the mess he’d made.  The woman eyed the holes along the baseboards of the walls, pretending not to notice the rodent droppings.  She also overlooked the dead bodies of the large, water-bug cockroaches on their backs, legs in the air.  She detested those damn things, the insects nearly as long and wide as her entire thumb.  Ida looked away from it all with a barely suppressed shudder and then at the boy in utter repulsion at the feces on the seat of his pants, which had crawled partway up his back.

Filthy.

He was absolutely riddled with filth.

Ida would not tolerate this kind of behavior and repeated outbursts from this one wayward child.

Hurry up, boy! she snapped, stamping the cane against the floor impatiently as he finished up, the sudden noise making the child jump with a start.

Ida grabbed him by his good arm again, taking care not to get too close to him of course, and forced him up the stairs and towards the bathroom.  The kids were only allowed to use that one and that one only.  She wouldn’t allow any of them up on the second floor during the day where she and the other social workers slept unless they were supervised.  Only if a child was ill were they permitted upstairs when classes were commencing, and even then, they were locked in their room.  She herself or one of the other social workers would check on the bedridden child and supply meals, if necessary.  All of the staff had teaching credentials which allowed them to school the population in-house.

They all had basic first-aid knowledge and had a doctor, who brought with him two nurses, come to visit once a month.  The many rooms and parlors of the first floor served as classrooms and there was a large dining room for meals, which the entire household took together simultaneously three times a day.  There were no snacks or treats, not ever.  Visits to the dentist were tedious when it came to some of the children being frightened, so removing the temptation of sweets altogether seemed to be the best course of action.

Ida marched the little boy right into the bathroom, while still making sure not to get too close to him and the disgusting mess, past the other children in the hallway, some of whom were laughing and pointing at them derisively.

She would definitely deal with that situation later.

Clean yourself up, Ida ordered, gripping and turning the metal cross-handle to allow water to gush out of the spigot and into the deep, rust-stained, claw-foot tub in one corner of the room before he even had a chance to begin removing his clothing. "Now!"

There was a sudden commotion outside in the hall and Ida’s neck snapped around as her eyes tightened, along with her lips, and she left him to see what the other kids had gotten into this time. 

***

It was only after Miss Haggerty made her hasty exit that the boy hunched over and threw up the scant contents of his little stomach all over the tiles set into the bathroom floor.

Oliver? Susan Trimble called softly, coming into the bathroom, and shutting off the water, which was ice-cold. Are you all right?

He didn’t answer because the last time Miss Susan had taken up for him Miss Haggerty had yelled at her and made her cry.  He didn’t want to get her into trouble again on his account.  She wore her long hair up today, a style she called a bouffant in which she had added a small, blue bow to one side.  It matched her eyes and her dress and he thought it made her the prettiest lady he’d ever seen.

Come on, the young woman urged gently, Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?

She helped him off with his clothes after she ran a hot tub of water, testing the temperature with her elbow before carefully easing him into it.  He didn’t want his filth to get onto her pretty dress, but she didn’t seem to care as she helped him anyway.  The attractive blonde busied herself with bagging his dirty clothing as he washed as best as he could and then she washed his back and neck.

Next Miss Susan got a large towel to wrap around him as he stood up in the tub, snuggling it around him.  He may have imagined it, but it almost sounded like she was saying that she was sorry.  As she held onto him, her body quivered, and Miss Susan sniffled.  When he snuck a peek at her, Oliver felt sad as he realized that Miss Susan’s eyes were full of unshed tears. 

She was curling her frosted-pink lips into themselves over and over as her nostrils quivered.  He was quite sure it was because he had smelled so bad, and that disgrace crept back up into Oliver’s bones again.  Still, Miss Susan held him against her for quite a while as the cacophony of noises surrounded them from outside of the bathroom.  Soon, the noises faded as he felt her heart beating against him and it was as if he was in his own world with Miss Susan.  He liked the feel of her embrace because it was like a cocoon of warmth and Oliver knew that he was completely safe at that precise moment, his eyes closing as he wished that he could stay that way forever.

But that was wishful thinking as she got him some fresh underpants that she had brought down.  How she’d known that he would need them made him feel extra special because it seemed that Miss Susan was always watching out for him.  She didn’t say much as she continued to help him get dressed in nice warm clothes, better than the ones that he normally had access to.

There, Miss Susan finally smiled at him after she composed herself, That’s much better, isn’t it? These used to belong to my little brother, but he’s outgrown them so quickly...

Oliver hadn’t an inkling that Miss Susan even had a little brother since she had never mentioned it and he instantly felt jealous of the other little boy in her life who got to spend time with her.  She visited her family back home from time to time and during the holidays, and Oliver cringed to think of Miss Susan leaving them soon with the coming Christmas season.  Maybe if he asked her very nicely, and Miss Haggerty said it was okay, he could go home with her.

She was smiling at him, taking a moment to run a gentle hand through his thick, blonde hair.  And he wanted to smile too because Miss Susan was always so nice to him.  Oliver would often wish that she would adopt him and take him away from the orphanage so that Miss Haggerty couldn’t be mean to either of them anymore.  They could live in a nice, clean house, have good food to eat, and best of all Miss Susan would be his real mother.  He would be the best-behaved, obedient son that she could dream of.

Miss Susan would never have a reason to be angry at him and punish him.

He would act perfect.

He would be perfect.

Oliver? Did you hear me? she was asking him now, snapping him out of his fantasy. Would you like to go to the kitchen and have some lunch? I missed seeing you at breakfast this morning. You must be starved.

She held out her soft, thin manicured hand as he took it, and off they went towards the kitchen for something to eat.  Oliver could smell the lemony scent wafting from her as they walked together.  It was his favorite smell.  He came right out and asked her about it once and she had given him a pretty smile and told him it was a perfume called Lemon Verbena.

He loved it.

And her. 

Miss Haggerty was reaming out another kid, so thankfully her attention wasn’t on him at the moment as Miss Susan hustled him quickly past the carnage.  All Oliver had to do was behave and Miss Haggerty would leave him alone, at least for a while.  But it seemed that something about him always tended to irritate her, turn her against him and he’d end up in the basement again.  He felt a tremor go through him as he thought about the rats.

Maybe they had chewed off his arm and that’s why he only had one that was whole.  He had actually asked Miss Haggerty about that possibility once and she had laughed at him, so hard that tears streamed from her eyes.  It was a very strange sound to hear her laugh because she never did.  Although Oliver didn’t understand that she was actually mocking him and wanting desperately to be in her good graces for once, he had laughed right along with her.

Oliver? Miss Susan beckoned him, smiling that pretty way that she did as he ambled to the large trencher-style table, as if afraid that Miss Haggerty would show up to forbid him from eating.  Something that had happened once in a while and depended on whether she was angry enough with him or not for whatever it was he had done.  Miss Susan had just set down a steaming bowl of soup for him along with a hunk of fluffy, white bread to sop it up with.

Oliver! the young woman cried out in surprise as he hooked the bowl in and began to hungrily drink the hot soup directly from it, foregoing the spoon, despite the broth burning his mouth and fingers.

You’re an animal!

He could almost hear Miss Haggerty raging at him as he shamelessly gulped down the soup.  Next went the bread, gone in three quick bites with barely a chew in between.  If it was in him, no one could take it from him.

That’s what he’d learned early on.

Miss Susan was staring at him, wide-eyed with a shocked hand to her mouth at the sight of him.  The place setting at the large dining table was a mess and he’d accidentally knocked over his milk glass in his labors to eat by himself, the creamy liquid spreading rapidly.  Oliver’s eyes flitted to the clean bowl he’d left and then back at Miss Susan, who seemed to understand him even though he’d not said a word.  She came back with another bowl, pressing a spoon into his hand as she sat right next to him.

It’s good, isn’t it? she asked, another one of those pretty smiles on her face as Oliver began noisily slurping up the soup.

During his last checkup with the bloated, old doctor that came to look after all of the children Miss Haggerty was informed that he was underweight.  Oliver listened as Miss Haggerty lied about the boy being a finicky eater or never wanting to eat when in truth she wasn’t always allowing him to.  He often filched what scraps he could from the kitchen when he was on duty there, cleaning up.  The one time he tried to speak up and tell the doctor that Miss Haggerty didn’t always permit him food at mealtimes, she had put him in the basement as punishment the second the doctor left the premises.  After that, Oliver smartly learned to keep his mouth shut.

Miss Haggerty had done a funny little laugh that he’d never heard before as she told the doctor that he was such a precocious child.  And then the man had chuckled with a knowing nod, which made Oliver want to kick the doctor.  But the old man had completely surprised him by lecturing Miss Haggerty about the importance of a proper diet for a growing boy.  Even better was that she seemed to be listening to and respecting the doctor as he’d spoken to her and that had made Oliver take notice.  He saw the power and knowledge that the old doctor had, even over a mean witch like Miss Haggerty.

Until next time, Oliver. The doctor said, clapping him on his scrawny back before asking the nurse who always accompanied him on visits to send in the next child. 

Oliver knew that Miss Haggerty was a liar when she fibbed to the doctor about him not wanting to eat, but she made sure that everyone always believed what she said, even a doctor who should have been smarter than that.  This is how she continued to get away with all that she had done to him and it wasn’t fair that she always lied.

Always won.

All Oliver knew was that he hated Miss Haggerty.

***

1980

Thwack!

Thwack!

Thwack!

The sound the heavy, wooden cane made against Oliver’s bare back muffled in his ears as Miss Haggerty let him have it, or at least she tried to.  He really hadn’t wanted to go against her, deciding that it was like reasoning with a brick wall, but she was wrong and this time he wasn’t going to allow her to get away with it.  Recently, Oliver had been getting into more trouble for talking back and causing discord among the others.

Miss Haggerty had accused him of being alone on the second floor, but he hadn’t been.  It was one of the smaller kids that had leaped at the chance to go exploring, but Oliver would take the punishment to spare the girl who had only wanted to retrieve a forgotten doll.  He had seen her quietly traipsing up the stairs and then coming back down with the toy a moment or two later while he’d been sweeping the front hall.

At first, Oliver wasn’t going to say anything, let the waif take her much-deserved punishment for disobeying the rules.  But watching the terror build in the eyes of the tiny girl, who couldn’t have been much more than six or so, as Miss Haggerty promised to find out who had been on the second floor, had made him change his mind.  The little girl would be ruined, as she already appeared to wear her heart on her sleeve in the short time that she’d been with them.  She wouldn’t be able to take Miss Haggerty’s abuse.

So, there he knelt, in front of Miss Haggerty, as she beat him about the back and shoulders with her fancy black cane with the wolf’s head.

It didn’t hurt.

Much.

Oliver delighted in watching Kung-Fu Theater on Saturday afternoons in the recreation room while keeping an eye on the children in his charge.  He was the only one old enough to watch over the others because he had never been adopted.  People came in to ooh and ahh over the infants, toddlers, and smaller children.  No one ever wanted him, not with the way that Miss Haggerty always dissuaded potential adoptive parents who showed the least bit of interest.

Behavioral problems. The boy really should be institutionalized but we are trying to help him work through his issues.... 

And the looks of pity would turn his way as polite smiles were pasted on faces and couples looked at the others.

Lies.

All lies that she loved to tell anyone that would try and show him the least bit of consideration.  And he knew better than to contradict her, so Oliver hadn’t said anything at all.  Just as he did now as Miss Haggerty continued to carry out his sentence, battering scarred-over flesh from years of punishment under the guise of ‘correcting’ and ‘guidance’. 

He had watched, and learned, as the hero of one story made his mind be in one place while his body was being beaten and abused by the bad guys.

Meditation.

It was amazing!

Oliver found that he was so fascinated by this feat that he looked up books on meditation in the card catalog at the public library when they were allowed an outing to the local branch with some of the other social workers.  On the way back to the orphanage and before they had gone inside, Oliver had hidden the small book underneath his shirt, not wanting anyone to know that he had it.  He had also made sure that no one had seen him slip the instructional pamphlet into the recesses of his jacket, while deep in the stacks and right before they lined up at the exit to get back on the yellow bus.

Over time, and as difficult as it was at times, Oliver learned the art of separating mind and body during unpleasant things.  This applied knowledge was working especially well at the moment.  Oliver noted that finding inane reasons to dole out punishments seemed to satisfy Miss Haggerty’s perverse desire to inflict pain on him.  Oliver was not going to give her the pleasure of hearing him scream or cry as he had done many times in the past when he was younger, so he had simply meditated during the beatings.  Calmed his breathing and shoved out the sound and feel of the damage being inflicted on his body. 

The old battle-ax couldn’t hurt him anymore.

He had been studying Miss Haggerty for years and he could now easily see all of her faults, her weaknesses.

His only savior, Miss Susan, was long gone after Miss Haggerty got through chewing her up and spitting her out.  Vanished like a fart in the wind one day about twelve years ago without warning.  It was only later and simply by chance that Oliver found out that Miss Susan and one of the other social workers had been caught by Miss Haggerty, having sex, and both had been immediately fired.  At least that was Miss Haggerty’s version of what had happened when he had eavesdropped on her while she was talking to the regional manager in the privacy of her office regarding the situation.

He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say goodbye.

Of course, Oliver had been extremely overwrought