Dawn's Shadow

By Bonnie Williamson

Jeffery Mitchell, housed in the North Bay Hospital in a unit for the criminally insane, masterminds a perfect escape after a two-year stint, leaving staff and authorities baffled and outraged. He was the last person the townsfolk would have guessed to be responsible for the murder of his lovely wife and three young children.
Jeffery heads westward, landing in the scenic and beautiful city of Calgary, Alberta, injured and requiring medical help. He risks aid at Mercy Hospital, only to have his world thrown into utter chaos by spotting young Dr. Meyers on his way out the door.
Could it be her? How? She is dead, his mind screams as he ogles the doctor.
Dr. Meyerss organized and ideal life turns upside down by the relentless endeavors of Jeffery stalking and harassing her, and she soon experiences a loss of all that matters to her.
Jeffery, astute and able to stay forever a step ahead of the authorities, sends a ripple of fear and uncertainty upon this once-peaceful-and-safe city. The police have their hands full with unsolved crimes as the human carnage mounts around them, most victims being young children. The public screams for justice and answers, but none is forthcoming.
The voices in Jeffery Mitchells mind continue to instruct him and encourage him to fulfill his unique mission, beginning with Dr. Meyers. His mind cannot sort through what is real and what is not. Disturbing memories of the long-ago past invade and plague his present, causing confusion and uncertainty.
Remaining free is detrimental to him, and he will stop at nothing to be sure this is intact.
When Dr. Meyers runs out of options to maintain her peace of mind and physical safety, she transfers to a hospital on the ocean-side city of Vancouver, not realizing her shadow is hot on her trail.
The death of Jefferys roommate sets in motion events of revenge as Oliver begins to trail him to avenge his beloved sisters morbid death.
D482E Bonie Wiliamson
Jeff cannot escape his past any more than he his present, leaving his future uncertain and open for a loss of his most valued treasure, his freedom.
After great determination, Oliver locates the murderer of his sweet sister Mariah, with plans of his own. A cabin set in the middle of nowhere awaits Jeffery Mitchell, and new life is breathed into his memories of a brutal and horrific past.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 14, 2013
• ISBN: 9781479749607

Bonnie Williamson

I was born in Calgary on March 10, 1955. I had my first book of poetry published in November 1978 and have had some of my other poetry published in three different anthologies from The World of Poetry. Dawn’s Shadow is my first novel, falling under the genre of suspense/thriller. Besides my love for writing, I paint landscapes in oil, and I am an avid reader of many genres of books. I am the proud mother of four children, Cory, Chad, Stacey, and Nikki Thrun and have thirteen grandchildren.

Book preview

Dawn’s Shadow

Bonnie Williamson

Copyright © 2013 by Bonnie Williamson.

Library of Congress Control Number:     2012921394

ISBN:               Hardcover                            978-1-4797-4959-1

                          Softcover                              978-1-4797-4958-4

                          Ebook                                   978-1-4797-4960-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Chapter 1    Escape from Ward 6

Chapter 2    The Disappearance

Chapter 3    The Shadow Surfaces

Chapter 4    Terror in the Night

Chapter 5    Obsession with Mariah Vanguard

Chapter 6    The Investigation Continues

Chapter 7    More Mayhem and Murder

Chapter 8    Flashbacks of Yesteryear

Chapter 9    Dawn’s Discovery

Chapter 10  Tidying Up Loose Ends

Chapter 11  The Devil Lives Here

Chapter 12  Fate

Chapter 13  Oliver’s Revenge

Synopsis

DEDICATION

I would like to thank all four of my children, my daughter-in-law Cindy and all my dear friends for their encouragement and support.

A special thanks to my daughter Nikki Thrun for the photography illustrating the book cover. In addition, a special thanks to my other daughter Stacey Thrun for posing as Dawn and Kevin Esligar for his active interest and involvement.

I dedicate Dawn’s Shadow to Cory Thrun and his wife Cindy, Chad Thrun, Stacey Thrun, and Nikki Thrun, along with a special dedication to my mom, who sadly passed away a mere few months before completion. She also looked most forward to seeing this book published and added to the encouragement of seeing it as a completed project.

I would thank the law of abundance and the universe. I wish for my readers to receive abundance in reading my book and, perhaps, cling to the inspiration to go forth and fulfill their goals and dreams as well.

Thank you to all readers who have chosen to purchase and read my novel, for if it was not for you, it could not be a success.

CHAPTER 1

Escape from Ward 6

T he rhythmic hum of a car’s engine grew louder with each passing second.

Jeffery Mitchell scoured the laneway for a place to hide, making a desperate lunge under a thick bush, camouflaging himself from the view of the passing motorist.

No sooner had he secured a place under the prickly branches of the musty-smelling foliage when the headlights cast forth their neonlike brilliance across the paved road.

Jeff’s breathing became heavy and labored, and his mind spun in a frantic whirl of limited options.

I hope they never seen me. That was close timing. He lay frozen to the spot like glue to paper.

I better wait a few moments in case someone else comes, he thought.

Jeff inched his way to his feet. Oh god, ouch, my ankle! Damn that hurts! Jeff yelped in sudden agony. No time to focus on this excruciating pain shooting up my leg.

Jeff listened for the sound of approaching vehicles, his heart hammering with indecision. His mind raced with uncertainty, unsure of which direction he should run. It was imperative that he go somewhere… any place but here. His long-sought freedom loomed in front of him.

Jeff’s features were remarkably soft, his coal brown eyes as innocent as a choirboy’s. Yet his conviction for the murder of his wife and three children had landed him into a psych ward of the hospital.

On a balmy July 12 night, he escaped, marking two years to the day since his incarceration. Dressed in a pale blue nurse uniform with white loafers, a shoulder-length dark auburn wig, a splash of makeup, a white sweater draped across his arms, he strutted out into the starry-velvet cover of night. A large black duffel bag with red lightning bolts running on both sides hung across his shoulder. A brown purse swung over his left arm.

His exit was as smooth as a baby’s bottom. The gentle warm breeze of the summer evening caressed his clammy sun-starved skin. Jeff appeared pale and gaunt.

Unbelievable, he thought. Freedom. Soon, miles will be between me and the hospital.

He dreamed of basking in the warmth of the summer sun to add some color to his ghostly complexion. An ear-to-ear grin stretched across his face as he recalled smiling at the security guard, waving to him when he opened the large glass door, a door to worshipped freedom.

A better performance than Robin Williams’s Mrs. Doubtfire, he mused.

Jeff arrived at the bus station, his nerves grinding as he stood in the ticket line; surprised to see a line at all this time of night.

Where is the next bus is going to?

Let me take a look here. Hmm, to Calgary, Alberta. It is scheduled to leave in about ten minutes.

How much is a one-way fare? Jeff probed in a feminine octave.

You are looking at close to $380 with the taxes and GST.

Thank you. I’ll get a ticket, he curtly replied.

Jeff cracked his knuckles; his eyelid began to flutter. Perspiration formed in little beads across his forehead and nose.

You all right? the agent asked as he leaned forward.

Yes. I… I’m fine, Jeff muttered.

Well, can I get you anything? Water? he offered with concern.

No, I am all right.

Jeff gave a weak smile as he took the ticket. His swollen ankle was aching and throbbing with each limping step he took.

Jeff shook his head as he reflected, People are so stupid and gullible.

He boarded the bus, aiming for the back-row seats, disappointed to see they were already in use. Inwardly, he cussed the young woman and the small child who gazed up at him. With a pleasant voice, she said hello.

Jeff responded with a quick gesture, taking a seat in the row ahead of them. He prayed that she would not engage in a conversation.

Talking was the last thing on his mind. He could not handle it.

This entire ordeal tore away at his nerves like a finely sharpened razor. The booming bass voice of the driver rang out, Tickets, everyone, tickets, as he strolled down the aisle. Jeff gave his ticket to the driver’s outstretched hand.

The thunderous roar of the motor starting up seemed like sweet music to Jeff’s ears. He lay back in his seat, tugging his sweater close to his chest. He shut his eyes, hoping to catch some peaceful rest. At last, he fell into a deep sleep.

The driver’s voice droning over the intercom startled Jeff awake. Those who are bound for Saskatchewan and Alberta, please remain aboard. We will be on our way in about ten minutes. For those of you who are departing for points in Northern Manitoba, thank you for traveling Red Fox Bus Lines. Please mind your step, the driver cautioned with a wide-toothed grin.

Jeff’s mood bounced from irritation to frustration. He desperately wanted to change clothes. His ankle throbbed like a thousand beating drums. He stared out the window into the darkness. Within minutes, the driver appeared, counting heads and taking new tickets.

Soon, the bus was in motion, with its wide tires humming along the black strips of asphalt. Jeff laid his head against the back of the soft red seats, closing his heavy, weary eyes once again. His folded cupped hands rested on his lap.

Thoughts took him back into the gray shadows of the past. Images of the events from the last two years replayed themselves as though he sat in front of a theater screen.

As the miles faded into one another, he began to reminisce, reviewing the details that led up to his escape.

He would never forget the first day of his transfer to the psych ward of North Bay Hospital. It was a place that Jeff had termed the governments’ human garbage dump.

He sank deeper into his seat as his mind rattled in thought.

Jeff envisioned the stripping of his traditional orange jumpsuit. A dull two-piece army green pajama-type shoddy garb took its place, repulsing Jeff.

Jeff sneered when his wristwatch slid down his arm and into the hand of the security officer, denied even the small luxury of knowing time.

Escorted to a gloomy small room, the locked door closed behind him. The dingy aged yellow paint, or what was left of it, clung to the gray brick walls in patches.

This room is so empty, hollow, and cold. It’s disgusting.

The battered dark brown desk filled the corner, a grungy beige swivel chair pushed in behind it. Kitty-corner sat a tattered, overstuffed green chair with the edges of the arms barely having enough material on them to hide its wooden frame. The furnishings were as sparse and outdated as the discolored and peeling paint on the walls. Except for the magazine on the scar-gouged desktop, it, too, lay bare.

It seemed to Jeff hours had passed before the sound of keys jangled in the lock. The door swung open. His steady gaze was intense as he ogled the man who entered the room.

Dr. Spencer greeted Jeff with a cheery smile and a warm hello.

Jeff’s bitter and icy response buffeted Dr. Spencer’s outstretched arm when he gestured a friendly handshake. He was determined to keep a thick wall of silence between them.

The doctor sat behind the desk, pulling his chair closer. Clearing his throat, he looked at Jeff, saying, Hi, my name is Dr. Spencer. If you want, you can just call me Ty.

Jeff’s stoic behavior continued throughout the entire visit, remaining uncommunicative. Dr. Spencer noted that except for Jeff’s constant cracking of his knuckles and his right eye twitching, he sat motionless as though he were a slab of concrete.

Jeff sat sullen. He made a note of Jeff’s indifference and detachment.

The doctor relented to his patient’s blatant silence by surrendering more time to him. Dr. Spencer, exhausted from his attempts, thought, perhaps tomorrow would be better.

He tilted forward, staring Jeff in the eyes. Okay, let’s call it a day. We can chat tomorrow.

With a blank stare, Jeff remained statuelike.

You know, Jeff, we will be seeing a lot of each other. I am hoping you will open up and learn to trust me, allow me to help you. Keeping your barriers up will not accomplish what is best for you. I am not your enemy, Jeff. I am endeavoring to enable you to put your shattered life back together. I want you to succeed in getting well, adjust to leading a normal, happy, and productive life again. Understand?

The doctor’s words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Well, nonetheless, Ty continued, think about it. Give me a chance.

Jeff’s lips twisted in an attempted smile as he stood up.

What a macabre-looking man you are with your wired bifocals, thin gray hair, and dismal baggy gray suit, he sarcastically thought as he glared at the doctor.

What’s the time? You idiots took my watch. I’m hungry, Jeff said, his voice dry and flat as the Western prairies.

So you do have a voice after all, the doctor announced with a half smile. It is a quarter to twelve.

When is lunch in this dump? he repeated, his voice dripping with animosity.

Before you eat, you will have to undergo a physical. After which, the hospital’s regulations and policies that pertain to you will be explained. Of course, following them or not will be entirely your option. Keep in mind, there are consequences for both good and bad behavior around here. We will serve lunch to you when you are finished, okay? Moreover, Jeff, understand we do run a tight ship here, but at the same time, we also have an honor system in place. When you show progress, permission will be granted for you to join the others in the cafeteria. It is up to you. Privileges are granted to those who earn them.

Jeff grunted and looked to the floor.

Within minutes, two men in crisp white uniforms took Jeff by his upper arms and ushered him down the long, narrow corridor.

Dr. Spencer sat pensively, contemplating the deep-rooted hostility embedded inside the mind of his newest patient—Jefferey Louis Mitchell.

He jotted down some last-minute notes and closed the folder.

Jeff is more complicated than what I had thought he would be, Ty ascertained aloud.

Pushing his chair away from the desk, sighing, he dragged his portly frame to his feet. Dr. Spencer gazed at the chair in which Jeff had sat. Shaking his head in vexation, he clicked off the light.

The next few months were uneventful, with nothing much changing between the two men.

Jeff suffers from deep manic depression coupled with bouts of anxiety that paralyzes all logical thought within his fragile mind. It hinders normal responses and reactions, the doctor spoke into his recorder. Ty’s obsession with Jeff deepened, sometimes feeling he was failing him. On occasion, Jeff showed signs of a helpless child. This had a profound effect on Ty and renewed his desire to make a difference in Jeff’s life somehow or other. Ty noted that Jeff seemed to reach out in various ways for comfort and strong reassurance, yet oftentimes, he remained aloof, pulling back like the spring of a bungee cord. Hostility, sarcasm, and indifference seemed the norm. Jeff had become a startling enigma even to the well-seasoned doctor.

Dr. Spencer spent hour after long hour analyzing Jeff, hoping to unlock some of the mental mysteries that engulfed him. When Ty would feel he’s at his wits’ ends and wants to pass Jeff’s care to a different doctor, Jeff would say or do something to intrigue him. In those moments when a hint of progress showed, Ty would find the strength, continuing more determined than ever to help Jeff.

On a beautiful January day, the bright morning sun glistened as it reflected off the white blanket of freshly fallen snow. The shrill ring of the phone broke the tranquil silence.

Good morning. Spencer residence.

Morning, Ty. I’m sorry to disturb you on your day off.

No worries, Brianna. What’s up?

Well, you told me that if anything urgent or out of the ordinary happened with Mr. Mitchell, I was to notify you right away.

Yes. What is going on with him?

He became physically aggressive—

Ty interrupted, Are you sure? Are you misinterpreting the issue, Brianna? I know he is oftentimes uncooperative when it comes to communication. His words can be hostile and belligerent.

No, Ty, there is no misinterpretation. He got physical with one of the nurses.

Unbelievable. Which nurse?

Vanessa. She went to administer his meds, and he lost control. He freaked out on her, yelling accusations that we were trying to poison him.

Holy crap! No kidding.

Nope, not kidding, Ty.

It is odd, but you know, this is a quantum leap forward for Jeff. Listen, Brianna, I am on my way. I should be there within a half hour or so, okay?

Thanks, Ty. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news and ruin your day off.

Ah, it’s nothing. Do not give it a second thought. See you soon.

Okay, drive safe.

Shall do. Bye for now.

He scrambled to his feet, heading for the door. He grabbed his navy parka, fumbling in the pockets for his keys.

They must be upstairs.

Ty raced up the steps. He swung open his bedroom door and spotted the keys on his nightstand.

Eh, John, how’s it going? asked Dr. Spencer as he approached the desk by the main entrance.

Pretty good, Doc. What about you? John said with a returned smile.

Getting by, John, getting by.

I am surprised to see you here. You said you were taking the weekend off for a change. Did ya get bored? he teased. A grin lit his usually serious face.

Ty said smiling, I have far too much to do at home to ever be bored.

Did you think the place would fall apart in your absence? John said with a wink.

Dr. Spencer laughed, saying, I think the hospital can survive without my intrusion. Ty smirked at John.

Have a good one, Doc. I’ll see you on the way out.

You betcha, John, and you too.

Dr. Spencer walked briskly down the corridor, his heavy coat rustling with every step he took. Turning left at the first adjoining hallway, he entered ward 6, closing in on the nurses’ station.

Ty, wow! That was fast, Brianna said with surprise.

Yeah, I know. For a change, traffic was sparse, and the lights cooperated with me.

He reached for Jeff’s chart and smiled as he turned to go to his room, room 609. He stopped outside of the door, peering in through the six-by-six-inch meshed window. Jeff sat motionless, appearing passive. His back rested on his pillow as he leaned against the cold brick wall. His large dark brown eyes were vacant. Jeff’s rigid form stared fixedly at the featureless wall in front of him. Ty stood watching him, anticipating Jeff’s reaction. He figured Jeff, as usual, would stare in stunned silence at nothingness, shunning any form of communication. Jeff stirred more questions than answers within the doctor, always making him feel like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Nevertheless, Ty was committed to figure out what made someone like Jeff tick. He wanted to bring him to a point of normality. He gaped at Jeff. I sure would like to know what is running through his mind—staring, just staring like a dead man with a blank expressionless face through those shallow deadpan eyes.

Dr. Spencer felt deep compassion, wanting to free his sick mind from its captivity. He longed to get a hold on the situation, rooting out the problem. Ty desired to have full comprehension; it required some cooperation from Jeff himself. His refusal to open up made the task monumental. Jeff was Ty’s greatest career challenge. Throwing the towel in on Jeff would be easy, but Ty’s stubbornness, and perhaps his ego, kept him in line. He was determined to chip away until Jeff relented and allowed him to help. Ty’s obsession with Jeff never weakened but grew stronger. It seemed to Ty’s wife that he drank, ate, and slept Jeffery Louis Mitchell. Her patience was thinning. She had never witnessed her husband so stuck on a patient before. She could not grasp what made this one different. Why was he so unusual from the many others that came and went over the years? she wondered.

Turning, he headed back for the nurses’ station.

Brianna, where is Vanessa? he inquired with a raised brow.

I sent her for lunch. I figured she could use the break. Did you want me to page her for you?

No, no. That is fine. I will wander to the cafeteria myself. Thanks.

He glanced around the large room, spotting Vanessa sitting with her back facing the west window. He pulled out a chair to join her.

I hear you are having an eventful day, he said with a wink.

With downcast eyes, she nodded, saying, Uh-huh. Brianna musta called you. I am sorry this messed up your day off, Ty.

No, not at all, Vanessa. Do you want to talk about it?

I, well, I guess so, she stammered.

Ty settled back in his seat, passing her a reassuring smile.

Well, it started when I tried to administer his meds. He was sleeping, so I tapped him on the shoulder. He became agitated, sitting bolt upright. When I was pouring the water into his glass, he started shrieking at me. Never in my whole life have I seen anything like it. He was accusing the staff of trying to poison him. He said there was a conspiracy among us, and we are trying to get rid of all of the patients.

Calm down. Breathe, Vanessa.

Vanessa shifted in her seat before continuing.

He batted the water and pills out of my hands. He was way outta control. Everything took place so fast, Ty, so fast.

Ty nodded, saying, I see.

The next thing I know, we were wrestling on the floor.

The doctor stared at her in amazement. He had never anticipated Jeff losing it like this.

This is surprising behavior on his part, to be sure, Ty responded, shaking his head.

I know. I have never been afraid of him up until now. Thank gawd a couple of the staff members heard the commotion and intervened. Kirk gave him a sedative. That’s about it, Ty.

Vanessa sagged back in her chair with obvious relief.

Perhaps you should consider taking the rest of the day off, Vanessa. It may do you good. What do you think? he said sympathetically.

Thanks, but I am okay, really I am. There’s only a few hours of my shift left. I would really like to stay.

Sure, but if you want to go home, just go, okay?

Vanessa nodded.

She had neglected to tell him that she had forgotten to put her keys into the lockbox when she came on shift. The fear of her not following hospital policy gnawed at her like a thousand termites at a wood fest. In addition, to make matters worse, her nametag was gone. She needed to find it before the end of her shift. Vanessa prayed no one would notice or ask her about it. She was confused, debating if she had misplaced her keys and tag prior to the scuffle in Jeff’s room or not.

Dr. Spencer stood to leave, touching her arm, saying, There is no sense worrying about this. It’s not your fault.

I know. It just freaked me out.

Take it easy, all right? I am going to check on Jeff. I will see you later, okay? the doctor said in a soothing voice.

She gave a weak smile as she half nodded. Vanessa watched his departure with wide anxious eyes. Her hands still trembled.

As Dr. Spencer neared Jeff’s room, he contemplated how he should approach him in conversation. Drawing close to the bed, he pulled the chair along the edge. In a calm low tone, he asked, How are you doing, Jeff? Is everything all right?

There was no response.

Jeff smiled to himself while his steady gaze remained fixed ahead. Eyes round as ceramic saucers stared back at Ty.

Do you feel like talking today, Jeff?

Silence, dead eerie silence.

Jeff, please tell me what set you off with Nurse Stevens? You said some bizarre things to her, giving her quite the fright, you know. Shall we discuss this? The air was tense and icy as a bitter north winter wind. The doctor continued, Believe it or not, communicating and getting your feelings out in the open is not just medicinal but also beneficial to you.

To eke responses out of Jeff was like trying to pull hens’ teeth. Turning his eyes once again to meet Ty’s, Jeff glared. So intense was his stare; it was as though he could pierce the fabric of time and space, taking one’s soul and laying it bare, exposing all of its secrets for the world to see.

Pointing an accusing finger at the doctor, he spat boisterously, I know you are all in on it. That means you too, Doctor. You want me dead just like the others. Do you think I am stupid? Did you think for a second that I fell for all this I-just-want-to-be-your-friend crap? You underestimate me, Doc. You are the one who is stupid, not me. You had better get it into your head. I do not trust one single person in this slime hole, not one. Got it? You people think that you can do anything you please to us regardless of how we feel. Well, for your information, you cannot. I am privy to your little psyche games. I have been on to you ever since I first got here.

Jeff was reaching hysteria. His arms flailed in the air. The doctor thought comically, At least this incredible outburst is a signal that Jeff is opening up. Perhaps now, there is a chance for some long overdue progress, some hidden issues can be resolved.

Shifting in his chair, Ty crossed his legs. Smiling, he asked, Whatever gave you the idea that we are out to destroy you or any of the patients at this hospital, Jeff?

Giving no response, Jeff turned, staring back at the wall.

As Dr. Spencer stood to leave, he looked at Jeff, detecting a smirk on his face.

I will check in on you tomorrow, Jeff. You can believe whatever you wish. I assure you, nobody is out to harm anyone in this facility… nobody. If you do not learn to trust someone, you will live in constant fear the rest of your life.

Ty lightly tapped the door. The thick tension of the room was almost unbearable. Dr. Spencer did not want to risk another violent outburst by pushing too hard. The door clanged shut, allowing Jeff to be shrouded in his own world. The doctor sighed as he peered through the tiny glass window, shaking his head in disbelief.

What secrets lay hidden in his mind? What was the origin that helped create his disillusionment? Many questions lingered in his mind as he looked at Jeff.

Jeff’s deep thoughts of the past ended by the jolting halt of the bus.

All those who are westbound to points in Alberta and BC, please depart from here. There will be an hour stopover. The next bus will leave from gate 5 at approximately six thirty. Enjoy your trip. Thank you for traveling Red Fox Bus Lines, the driver mechanically announced. Jeff hobbled as he stepped down from the bus. He clung tightly to his duffel bag. As he entered the terminal, his eyes combed the waiting area for the washroom signs. He stood outside the men’s room, listening for sounds. Jeff peered around as he entered the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He emptied the contents of his bag onto the grubby, damp countertop, organizing all he needed for an alternate disguise. Strategically, he streaked the temple areas of his dark hair a distinguished gray. Changing out of the nurse uniform, Jeff folded it into a neat bundle, placing it into his bag. He attached a salt and pepper colored beard and moustache, stolen from a Halloween party. He donned mirrored sunglasses to finish his appearance, buttoning up his white cotton shirt, leaving the top hole opened. He tucked in his shirttail and zipped up his dark brown pants. Giving himself a final glance in the mirror, he grinned at the image reflecting back.

There you go, Doctor Spencer. You would not even recognize me. Guess I am not as nuts as you think I am, now am I? Jeff said aloud as he stared into the mirror. He put on the tan suit jacket and turned toward the door. As Jeff pulled open the handle, he collided into a man who knocked his homemade cane out from under his arm.

I am so sorry, man. Are you okay?

Jeff ignored his apology and mumbled something inarticulate under his breath. Time was running out for catching the next bus. He grabbed a chicken salad sandwich and a black coffee from the snack bar, racing as fast as his injured ankle would permit to the westbound bus. He pushed his ticket into the driver’s hand as he climbed aboard, heading straight for the back. Luck was in his favor; the row by the latrine was vacant. He felt elated as he put his bag on the floor, stretching his legs lengthwise across the seats. How easy his escape had been, he complacently pondered with a wide toothy smirk. The old night watchman was tied up on the phone. He had not bothered to pay much attention, except for a passing glance and a quick wave of his hand.

Jeff`s brilliance seemed to be his ace in the hole. Because of it, he became one of the most well-behaved and cooperative patients behind those cold, dismal gray brick walls. He played their game, jumped through their hoops like a pro, gaining their trust and confidence. With every allotted freedom and privilege, he utilized it to steal and organize various paraphernalia. He had plans, definite and detailed plans. There would be no more staring inquisitive eyes or steady stream of endless questions once he was free.

Over the passing days, his trip was a mixture of excitement, inner fears, and apprehension. He managed to catch short periods of deep undisturbed sleep between the stabbing pains and achy throbs in his ankle. Jeff`s mind turned to Calgary, a vast Southern Alberta city that nestled close to the foothills of the great Canadian Rocky Mountains, a city of over one million people and a worldwide reputation for its annual stampede and rodeo held every July.

It is big enough to hide and get lost in, at least for a while, he surmised.

With this idea hammered into the forefront of his mind, it blanketed him with a sense of calmness, a needed edge of inner strength and courage. His survival meant freedom, and freedom meant his survival. The bus was about thirty minutes from the outskirts, yet the inner city structures were visible. The tall circular tower that loomed in the golden skyline mesmerized Jeff in particular.

He thought, Once I’m on foot, I’ll get a close-up view of this monstrosity that creates the contours of the city.

The closeness of the majestic steel blue-gray mountains that appeared in the vast Western skies enchanted Jeff’s mind.

Fantastic, simply fantastic, he mumbled half audibly.

Soon, Jeff found his mode to freedom pulling into the terminal gates.

I need a cheap place to stay. I almost have no money left.

Jeff swung his duffel bag over his shoulder, still carrying the cane under his arm. He limped out of the lobby. The hospital seemed a lifetime ago. His attention swooped when he noticed his picture flash across the displayed television screens in the store window.

I wonder what they are saying.

His curiosity was as uncontrollable as substance was to an addict. The bald headed newscaster was announcing a coast-to-coast search for his capture. Jeff was classified as a very dangerous schizophrenic and not to be approached.

He laughed to himself, thinking, If anyone is crazy, it’s you. You probably still think I am in a nurse uniform, if you even figured that one out.

Jeff’s heart accelerated as he spotted the salesclerk heading in his direction. His brain screamed, Play it cool, just play it cool.

Afternoon, sir, nice-looking sets, eh?

Jeff grunted.

They have everything you want from HD compatibility to Dolby surround-around sound, and they come in LCD or plasma. I think we have every size out there to pick from.

Jeff wished he would go away.

Which one interests you, sir?

None, I am just looking.

That is too bad. We are having a great blow out sale now and—

Before he could finish his sales pitch, Jeff interrupted, saying, I am browsing, and that is all.

The words flowed out of Jeff’s mouth as easily as undammed water from a dike.

Jeff flinched in pain as he turned to leave the store and the glaring eyes of the sales clerk.

Damn it all, he cursed in a loud whisper. It is hurting worse all of the time.

You okay, sir?

Yeah, I messed up my ankle a few days ago getting off the bus. I musta sprained it good.

Not from Calgary then?

No, from out east.

Maybe you should get a doctor to look at it. You can go to the walk-in clinic or hospital or something, insisted the clerk. Jeff said nothing. Do you know the city very well?

Jeff thought the clerk should mind his own business but said, Where is the nearest hospital?

Not far at all. Mercy Hospital is about a twenty-minute bus ride from here.

The idea of entering another hospital quickened Jeff’s pulse. Nonetheless, he decided to get the directions. The sharp pain that tore at his ankle was like a well-whetted knife. He blamed the woman and kid for making it worse. Still lamenting, he thought, If I could have kept my leg propped up, it would not be as swollen as it is now.

Jeff roamed around until he found the bus stop. The driver handed him a transfer, suggesting he sit up front. He would let him know where to get off next so he could connect with the bus for the hospital. Jeff politely nodded as he sat across the driver, rigid as a spike driven deeply into the ground, while staring straight ahead through the poke-marked windshield.

The institute was full of commotion as the police and the hospital staff tried to figure out how Jeff had escaped. Everyone was baffled. The police were convinced that he had help from an employee aiding his escape. The cops spent a great deal of time chatting with Dr. Spencer. They wanted as many details on Jeff as possible to compile a profile.

Nurse Stevens held a steady gaze at her folded hands lying in her lap, obviously avoiding something. Her nervousness sent a red flag to Detective Higgs. His guts nagged at him to probe further. He made a note, double-checking her name and its spelling.

In the adjoining room, Vanessa’s roommate Terry was undergoing similar questioning.

Have you or anyone you know had anything stolen? There have been reports of missing articles, the officer inquired.

No, not at all, she said as she shook her head.

Ms. Nixon, you are a reasonable, intelligent person. In order for these things to vanish, with no signs of forced entry, wouldn’t it then be logical to assume that someone was either voluntarily let in or had a key?

Before he was able to continue, Terry blurted out, I just remembered something.

The evident excitement wedged in her shrill birdlike voice sparked a sudden interest in Detective Williamson. His eyes widened. He leaned in toward Terry.

Remembered what? he asked, keeping his eyes fixed and his voice steady and calm.

It was a long time ago.

What was?

My roommate, she lost her key and needed to use mine to get a copy made.

He sneezed. Excuse me.

Bless you.

Thank you. Did you ever ask your roommate if she located the original?

No. Quite frankly, the whole thing slipped my mind.

Williamson peered over the top of his glasses. He jotted down notes on his yellow pad.

Terry continued, We have a strict policy regarding our keys and name tags.

How so?

Well, when we come on shift, we are supposed to lock our keys in a drawer and retrieve our name tags. When our shift ends, we take our keys, put our name tags back in the drawer, and clock out.

Her eyes were wide with emotion.

Interesting and helpful, Ms. Nixon. This could explain some things. I need to speak to your roommate. What is her name? His pen was poised on top of his paper.

Vanessa Stevens. Is she in trouble? I mean, I would not want to do that to her. She really is a great person, you know.

Of course not, or at least not with the police department. You realize we have no control over hospital policy or how they deal with security breaches, right?

Terry shook her head.

He stood to his feet, motioning toward the door, saying, Thanks for your time and cooperation, Ms. Nixon. It is appreciated.

As Terry stood to leave, her shoulders sagged with relief, as though a million pounds lifted from her.

There was a stark contrast between the officer and Terry, her with a petite build and him, six foot three inches of well-muscled physique.

The precinct was buzzing with activity as the detectives evaluated all the gathered reports. It was apparent to them they had a whole lot of nothing, nothing that could shed light on Jeff`s whereabouts or send the investigation forward. The sergeant knew they must dig deeper, much deeper. Time for follow-up interviews. His guts told him that something was overshadowed.

Officer Lindsay Bower summoned Sergeant Downs to the phone. She covered the mouthpiece, saying, He sounds anxious. This guy says he is calling with regard to Jeff Mitchell.

Mike nodded as he snatched the receiver from Lindsay’s hand.

Hello. Homicide, District 1. Sergeant Downs speaking. How may I assist you? His query rang through in his matter-of-fact baritone voice, like the relentless clang of a monk’s bell.

Yeah, I’m calling about this Jeff Mitchell guy. I think I might have something important in connection with him.

Mike Downs thought his heart was going to come out of his chest. He took a deep breath. Thinking and hoping for this to be the big break they were waiting for, he said, Before you continue, I need you to identify yourself. Anything you say will be held in the strictest confidence.

He tried to sound casual or as casual as he could under the circumstance. He quickly reached for a pen and scratch pad.

For sure. I’m Clayton James Robinson.

The reply came through a raspy voice that sounded like he smoked too much.

Could you spell that for me please?

Sure. C—l-a-y-t-o-n. J—a-m-e-s. R—o-b-i-n-s-o-n.

The sergeant repeated the spelling back before continuing.

You said you might have information on Jeff Mitchell?

Yeah. That night that he escaped, well, a lady came, he hesitated. Or at the time, I thought it was a lady, came to my wicket where I work.

Downs interjected.

Where do you work?

I’m a ticket agent at Red Fox Bus Lines.

I see, and can you remember what she looked like?

Sure. What really stuck out is that she came in wearing a kinda dirty blue nurse uniform. She had shoulder-length reddish brown hair. I would say she was about five four to maybe five six, a hundred and ten to twenty pounds. There was not a lot of facial contact, but I remember she had the darkest brown eyes I have ever seen. They were so dark brown that they were almost black.

There was a pause.

Uh-huh, please continue.

Well, she was outta breath, huffing and puffing like she had run a marathon or something.

Really?

Yeah. All she wanted to know is when and where the next bus was going to.

Interesting, he replied.

Sure is, a person not caring where they are going so long as they can get outta Dodge, so to speak.

What did you tell her?

I told her that the next bus leaving in about ten minutes for the Western provinces… Calgary in particular.

I see.

I said it is not an express. There would be a number of stops along route. She never batted an eye. I told her that she would have to transfer to a different bus in Winnipeg. She grabbed for it. People… go figure, eh?

Uh-huh.

To tell you the truth, she had my sympathy. I noticed her limping real bad when she was walking away.

Let me interrupt you for a moment. What time did this happen? His forehead furrowed in concentration.

Ah, let me think a second, he said, scratching his whiskered chin. I remember the Calgary bus was leaving within minutes, so I would have to say it had to be close to two thirty in the morning.

Okay. Did she have any baggage that needed tagged? he asked with fortified hope.

She did, but she refused to let go of the duffel bag. Normally, we put the larger luggage under the carriage, but she was so damn upset and so nervous. I never pushed the issue. She held onto it with a dead man’s grip, he said with a chuckle.

Downs smirked, saying, So she bought a ticket for Calgary? he confirmed.

Yes, sir, one way.

A jovial feeling welled up inside Downs. He was beginning to see the light of day thinking he had received his first substantial lead.

You have been a huge help, Mr. Robinson, a huge help.

No worries. Hell, I like to do my bit as a good citizen, ya know. Excuse my language.

Grinning, Downs said, That’s fine.

Truth is, I never thought much about that lady until I heard the news. That’s what got me thinkin’ . . . thinkin’ a lot actually. I knew the time was right for someone to get here on foot from the hospital. Moreover, a nurse uniform? Well, I kinda put two and two together. I figured it was possible that she was really this Jeff guy in disguise. I knew I should get a hold of you.

I’m glad you did. If you can remember anything else, anything at all, please call, even if it seems small and insignificant to you, okay? Thick satisfaction permeated his voice. You have a good day, Mr. Robinson, and thanks again for phoning.

No problem, sir. Have a good one, he replied.

As he placed the receiver onto the cradle, he said with a huge smirk stretching his lips, Listen up, everyone. I have some interesting news. I think I know where Mitchell took off to.

The usual steady office hum grew silent as though God himself had stepped into the room. All eyes focused on Sergeant Downs.

The bus stopped along the east side of the hospital. Jeff got off, clinging to his bag. He hobbled toward the Emergency Entrance sign, standing rigid as a steel pole grounded firmly in ten feet of concrete, gaping at the pristine glass doors in front of him. Jeff felt panicky. He could not produce his AHC; he never had one. He debated whether to proceed or not. If he did, what excuse could he give for lacking this card?

The agonizing throbbing pain in his ankle decided for him, he must take a chance. He walked toward the triage. When his eyes locked with the woman’s behind the desk, he found himself wanting to run, but his feet were stuck to the spot. His mind went blank.

Jeff returned to reality by the nurse’s soft voice. Yes? she repeated. May I help you? inquired Nurse Bernstein.

Jeff stammered, I hurt my ankle the other day. It is still sore and very swollen. He grimaced.

Maybe you should have come to see us when you first got hurt, she said with a smile, adding, Have you been here before?

Jeff shook his head.

No problem. Fill out this form, please. I’m sorry, what did you say your name is? She faltered with pink-cheeked embarrassment.

Jeff’s mind spun in circles as he groped for a name. He blurted out, Paul Hodgkins.

I will need your health care card, Mr. Hodgkins, she said as she held her hand open across the desktop.

Holding a steady gaze, maintaining an even tone, he responded, Sorry, I don’t have one yet. I just arrived to this province a couple of hours ago.

That is fine. Your card from your province is good for ninety days.

I can’t give it to you. I had my wallet stolen at one of the stopovers on the way to Calgary. My health card was in my wallet, Jeff lied, the words rolling off his tongue.

As Jeff shifted in his chair, he cried in pain.

I see. Look, Mr. Hodgkins, go over there, have a seat. I will be right with you, she stated, pointing toward the waiting area.

Jeff watched nervously as she disappeared around the corner. Within minutes, she returned with a doctor in tote.

Dr. Lucus smiled at Jeff as he approached him.

Hello. My name is Dr. Lucus. I hear that you did quite the number on your ankle. Can you please get Mr. Hodgkins a wheelchair, Nurse?

Certainly, she responded.

Jeff found himself wheeled within moments into a small cubicle.

Do not concern yourself about the healthcare card. Let’s just get your ankle looked at, all right? Do you need a hand up onto the bed? Dr. Lucus inquired.

No, thank you. I can do it myself.

The doctor took a quick peek before ordering an x-ray.

Hang tight. Someone will be here soon to wheel you to diagnostics.

Okay.

As Jeff sat on the edge of the bed, he listened to the two nurses across him. Their constant prattle was like listening to a barnyard of cackling hens. Will they ever shut up? he wondered. On and on, without taking a breath, they chattered and chattered.

At least there is a curtain between us. Listening to them is bad enough. I do not need to see them too, he thought with disdain, narrowing his eyes toward the closed divider.

Trish had immigrated to work in Canada. She had heard that it was a much calmer, gentler place to live. Consequently, it became her target for a permanent residency. She had grown up in a rough and dangerous community. Her neighborhood seemed held hostage by drug lords and a variety of ethnic gangs. The sound of gunfire was almost the norm. Trish had learned how to be streetwise when she was in elementary school. By the time junior high rolled around, she was determined to get a break from the constant violence, the gangs… the horror of it all. She had had enough of it to last her a lifetime. No matter what it took, Trish was putting miles between it and her. She immediately fell in love with Canada and its people, although it took her a while to relax and not be on the defensive, conditioned for caution from such a young age, habitually exercising her mother’s training. The lack of perpetual crime, violence, and turmoil felt strange, so uncommon. She truly was a foreigner in a foreign land. Trish often thought the peacefulness here is what life was all about. In fact, this is how life should be lived. Even though her heart grew homesick for family and friends, she was satisfied with the choice she made and would not alter it now. She was home. Trish was like a breath of fresh air to the staff and patients.

Heather piped up, Hey, Trish, you are jealous. You could have stayed with, what’s his name? Chuckling, she added, Maybe you ought to think about picking up with—

Dave. His name is Dave, she said, interrupting Heather, and pausing briefly. And for your information, his name is more like dumb ass. As a matter of fact, sister, hell, noooo. I ain’t givin’ no more chances to that snake. He done peed on my leg and told me it was rainin’ one too many times. Mercy’s sakes, I do not believe a word that comes outta that fool’s mouth, honey, nothin’, she declared emphatically in her thick Alabama accent as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Trish’s face was twisted with disgust, her voice laced with repulsion and sarcasm.

Chill out, Trish, just chill. I was only joking with ya. You know I think he is a complete jerk wad. You never deserved the crap he did to ya. I can only wish Dave the worst. Heather laughed, adding, Can you imagine him being stuck with the ultimate wife from hell? You know, forever nagging at him, an enduring affinity, no escape.

Trish giggled as Heather continued. Eh, that would be poetic justice, don’t ya think? Him getting a taste of his own medicine and, yeah, no reprieve. He would have an eternity of himself, so to speak. Ah, now there is a thought, eh? Heather finished with a smug look on her face.

The air filled with the unison of laughter. When the giggling stopped, they decided that they should focus on work if they wanted to keep their jobs.

Jeff was relieved when the gray-haired nurse came to take him for x-rays.

There were no broken bones. The doctor gave him prescriptions for pain and inflammation.

I want you to keep off that foot for a few days. You need to apply ice packs periodically to get that swelling down, understand, Mr. Hodgkins? Dr. Lucus stated firmly with a raised eyebrow.

Jeff nodded in agreement, as he stood to leave.

He turned the corner to head for the main entrance, stunned into silence when his eyes caught sight of the attractive young doctor leaning against the nurse’s desk. His eyes were glued on her. How long he had stood staring, he was not sure, but the doctor looked up and caught his gaze. She took a step into his direction, prompting Jeff into action. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with her. He found himself outside the doors to the hospital with the warm July sun beaming down. It was too warm. He would welcome a cool breeze to caress his face. The sun was scorching, stifling hot. It seemed like hours before the bus finally poked its nose above the crest of the roadway. Even though the bus felt like a sauna, Jeff was glad to be out of the hot sun. He grew angry at the limited space on the bus. He wanted to scream at everyone to move away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

Too many people, I am going to choke.

Jeff tucked himself in the back-row seat between the old Asian woman and the opened window. He knew it was a lengthy ride back to city center, unlike what the sales clerk had told him. He closed his eyes as though his clenched lids would block the world out, erasing it from him. His ankle pulsated while his head pounded. The sweltering heat was not helping his situation. Jeff’s mind returned to the hospital, recapturing the woman doctor. He was at war with himself, trying to hang on to reality, which was eluding him. He knew he needed to keep it together; his freedom depended on it.

Jeff lost the struggle. Soon, his thoughts entered the far recess of his mind. It was a mental arena to horrifying memories, forbidden and forgotten memories. Still, there he was, glaring into the corridors of the past, compelled to observe, incapable of turning back. Jeff sank like a milestone into the watery depths of yesterday.

Stretched out before him was the young doctor’s face, a face not unlike that of his deceased wife. His memories sauntered back, far back to a distant time and place. He saw himself standing in the front of the church, mesmerized by her beauty as she neared him. His young bride-to-be drew closer and closer. With each step she took, a fiery passion began filling the pores of his being. Nothing else existed, no, nothing except this moment of sheer ecstasy and her radiance. It was as though all of the ugly years of childhood and misery had vanished like the morning dew evaporating from the warmth of the summer heat, gone like a bad dream upon awakening. How lovely she appeared in her snow-white gown, with the long silky train billowing gently behind her as she ambled down the red-carpeted aisle.

Jeff thought, A princess, no, an angel. Yes. Today, I am marrying an angel.

The Victorian collar, the wisps of frilly lace about her slender neckline, suited her dimpled cheeks and her peachy complexion. The long sleeves hugged her feminine wrists with fine translucent lace dancing slightly over the upper part of her dainty hands. The white carnations with the sparseness of blue baby’s breathe, the thin silver threads flowing amid the bouquet—it was a masterpiece, the picture of perfection. Melonie’s hair was the color of golden wheat at the peak of its maturity. A twisted bun with thin curly strands falling elegantly on her slender neckline rested atop her head. Two other ringlets of the same fineness encompassed her thin heart-shaped face. Her dimples deepened like small crevices by the corners of her pink glossed lips. Melonie’s innocent childlike smile broadened as she drew closer. Her husband-to-be gazed in awe.

Jeff relished in his recollection, forever remembering the abounding happiness and the musical sound of laughter that rang through the wedding hall that evening.

Had he died, Jeff wondered, died and gone to heaven?

Could this really be happening… to ME? It felt as though he were stuck in the most wonderful dream ever. If it’s a dream, please, God, never allow me to wake up, he silently prayed.

For the first time in his life, he understood the definition of happiness.

Oh, God, never let my newfound revelation of joy end, never.

He pondered Melonie’s unconditional love, mulling over no matter whom or what he is; sweet Mellie loved and accepted him. All of his previous hurts, sorrows, and pain were but a blur in the arms of Father Time.

Many of Jeff’s experiences seemed to be cruel writings from a novelist’s pen. Every time Jeff stared into Melonie’s eyes, he felt love, hope, and an elation that went beyond his wildest expectations.

The second Melonie said, I do, Jeff rode gallantly upon the clouds, proud and strong like a wild stallion racing at full gallop across the open plains.

Jeff reconnected into the present when the bus jerked to a stop. Once under way, he sank back into his thoughts of yesteryear.

Melonie was always full of vitality. The townsfolk viewed her as the sweetest and most generous person they knew. Jeff could not argue this opinion as he, too, was of like mind. No matter how bleak or dismal the day or circumstances were, Mellie always had an encouraging word, wearing a continual smile as though it were a crown. She loved life and putting joy into the hearts of everyone she met. If she had a downfall, it was her rose-colored glasses, seeing the good and never detecting the bad in anyone. She could be gullible and naïve.

Jeff often marveled why she was so void of negativity. In all of the years they had been together, he could not recall a single instant where he had seen a scowl cross her face nor had he ever heard a sour word escape her lips. He wondered if he had blanked out the bad, as he so often seemed to do throughout his life.

Nah, she was perfect. I know she was, Jeff confirmed in a whisper.

Jeff grinned as he recalled that Melonie was forever taking in helpless animals. She tended to their needs with a kind and gentle disposition. Mellie harbored many of her parents’ personality traits. Her mom and dad were extremely protective of her, even now, although she was married. They still doted over her and tried to shelter her from life’s unpleasant aspects. This sometimes annoyed Jeff. He viewed this as interference but managed to say nothing. He remained cordial toward them; Mellie was the one who would have to listen to his complaints once they were alone.

Jeff recalled only once had his ears caught something that resembled a complaint. She had mentioned regretting not having a brother or a sister. Her mom had a miscarriage prior to Melonie and two more after. She was not able to carry a child beyond the first trimester. Her parents thought Mellie was a miracle child. This, perhaps, had a great bearing on the scrupulous eye her folks kept on her, and it explained their overindulgence.

It is funny though, he thought, she was not the least bit spoiled or selfish. It was strange how Mellie turned out so different from the norm.

Jeff’s mind jumped to the impending birth of their firstborn and all of the excitement they felt. He smiled as he recollected the glorious moment when she announced her labor pains had begun. In a matter of hours, they would be holding the bundle of joy that had sprang from the love they felt for each other. They both expressed how much they hoped it would be a boy but agreed that so long as the baby is healthy, that is all that matters. It seemed to them that heaven was on their side as they greeted the tiny face of Kevin, named after a favorite uncle of Mellie’s, and Jeffery fit in as his second name.

Lord, but this kid is small, he thought as he stood gaping down at his new son. Jeff shuddered at the thought of picking Kevin up. Eventually, he relented at his wife’s insistence. He sat stiff, hugging the edge of the bed with the wee baby perched in the crook of his arm. The baby did not crumble or break as he had feared. Blessed with Mellie’s fine looks came as a relief to Jeffery.

Although Kevin was the spitting image of his mom, he soon grew to bear his dad’s personality. He was unnaturally quiet, circumspect, and seemed withdrawn from the world, but he was as smart as a whip. Without effort, he caught onto almost everything.

Melonie spoke to Jeff of her concerns for Kevin and how he idled his time with too much introspection. She reasoned to herself, How much is there for a young boy to analyze? He ought to be outside running and playing with the other neighborhood children, not tucked away in his bedroom thinking. Kevin stood as his own worst enemy, Mellie thought his own greatest critic. He tended to be a perfectionist, never measuring up to his own self-satisfaction. She voiced to Jeff how he was twittering away his youth. Nothing she said or did could alter his course. Often, this caused consternation in her. She felt helpless in aiding her son and questioned her motherly abilities. Am I failing him somehow? she thought.

As with every new mother, she was proud as punch to take as many opportunities as possible to show him to whomever paid attention. She was ecstatic when she went to church and gloried in all of the fuss made over him. Melonie was an avid church member who bore high and strict morals, whereas Jeff seldom attended the services.

Jeff’s job prevented his going, but he was secretly relieved. He had had his fill of churches and the hypocrisy that seemed to dribble in. Both of his parents were staunch Christians who went overboard, as far as he was concerned. Jeff’s whole childhood was chockful of painful and disgusting memories, all in the name of God which left him resentful and confused.

Melonie was twenty-two when she gave birth to Kevin, announcing she was pregnant for the second time fourteen months later. Once again, she gave birth to a boy, feeling somewhat disappointed. She had longed for a daughter. Kevin,