The Cry Beyond the Door Page 3

  “What was that for?” she asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “For always being there for me.” Before my emotions got the better of me, I changed the subject. “Did I tell you I’m meeting with Shawn for dinner tonight? I’ll catch him up on my visit with Dr. Sanderson then. Right now, though, I’ve got to get busy.”

  “I hear you,” LaVon said. “I walked two of the large dogs, Thor and Bear, while you were out, so you wouldn’t have to worry about doing it when you got back.”

  “Thanks. I owe you one,” I said.

  “Don’t think I’ll forget it.” LaVon raised her hands in a grand gesture. “You can thank me by getting Shawn to hook me up with one of those sexy, tall, dark, and handsome doctors at his hospital. Soon. But right now I’ve got to finish our quarterly report.”

  LaVon picked up her dog costume and headed down the hall to her office, the tail still wagging as it drug along the floor.

  I went to my computer to write another blog entry, something I tried to do every other day for the pets’ owners. It had seemed like a great idea initially, but the blog was becoming too time-consuming. I considered the idea of posting videos instead. The owners would probably prefer to see their pets, rather than read about them, anyway. There was no time to make the change today, though.

  After deleting several sentences and rewriting them, I left the office to check on the canine boarders. It was my favorite part of the day, greeting each one and making sure they had food, water, and exercise.

  I’d just finished refilling the water bowl for an adorable beagle and closed his cage when a migraine hit me. “Help me.” It was the voice from the dream. A surge of white-hot pain seared through my head and my fingers began to make odd movements. I moaned before crumpling to the floor.

  “Dar. Dar, are you okay?”

  My eyelids raised just enough to reveal LaVon’s face looking down at me. Her dark brows were furrowed into the formation of geese I’d seen as they flew south for winter, and her mouth was set in a tense line. The dogs in the cages nearby were barking frantically. Had I passed out? I lifted my hand to my head, relieved to find that my fingers were no longer twitching.

  “I’m fine,” I answered at last. There was a quiver in my voice, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “It must have been a slow reaction to your costume.”

  “Nice try,” LaVon said. “Leave the humor to me. And you’re not fooling anyone. There must be a reason you fainted.”

  I grimaced. “I have a bad headache, that’s all. Really, I’m okay. But I wouldn’t say no to a couple aspirin.”

  “Headache, my ass,” LaVon said. “I’ll get you the aspirin, but I want you to have that curly headed doctor of yours check you out. Promise me, or you don’t get any aspirin.” She glared at me with her hands balled in fists on her hips.

  “You do realize he’s a pediatric cardiologist, right?” I said.

  “Sure, and you’re acting like a stubborn, sick little kid, so I’d say he’s the perfect doc for you.”

  Knowing better than to argue with LaVon, I rubbed my temples and said, “Okay, okay. You win. Just get the aspirin, please.” I grabbed her outstretched hand and eased myself off the cool cement floor and onto a nearby metal folding chair. LaVon left in a huff in search of aspirin, leaving me to consider what I had once again refrained from telling her. I was hearing the voice during the day now. What the hell was wrong with me?

  Chapter Six

  It was a good omen, Detective Shafer thought. Not only had he managed to catch the EMTs earlier, but now he swung his older model Dodge Charger into a parking spot directly outside the Mission Shelter’s main entrance. His luck continued when he spotted a woman, whom he hoped was the director, just inside the door. She was speaking with someone who appeared to be a client. When they finished, he approached her and introduced himself. She shook his hand.

  “Director Dee Morgan, but you can call me Dee. Everyone here does. I’m guessing you’re here about the man they found in the alley.”

  “That’s right. I understand you were the one who called 911?”

  “Yes, I did, but I wasn’t the one who found him. That was Walter, one of our clients who was making his way to the shelter that night.”

  “Did you see the man who was assaulted?” Mike asked.

  “I’m afraid not. We were swamped that night, and when Walter came in so disturbed about a man he’d found, quite honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was real or one of his hallucinations. I wanted to check it out, but a little girl started getting sick here. It was all I could do to call 911.”

  “I don’t suppose Walter is here today?”

  Mike didn’t expect his luck to last, so he was surprised when Dee said, “Actually he is here. That’s unusual for Walter, but he seems agitated and keeps mumbling something under his breath.”

  “Would you mind introducing him to me?”

  “Sure. Don’t get your hopes up, though. When Walter gets like this, it’s very difficult to communicate with him,” Dee said.

  She led Mike to a corner of the room where a disheveled man was seated alone. Walter was wearing several jackets in spite of the warm facility, each one filthier than the next. A stained red knit hat covered most of his matted brown hair. It was difficult to determine his age due to his weathered face and scruffy beard, but Mike guessed him to be in his forties. Walter hugged himself, rocking back and forth as they approached. Mike figured his luck had just run out. A pair of dark bloodshot eyes stared blankly at them as Dee tried to reach into what seemed like the abyss that was Walter’s mind.

  “Hi, Walter. It’s good to see you today,” Dee said. “This is Detective Shafer with the Reed Police Department. He would like to ask you some questions about the man you found in the alley.” Walter began to rock faster. “It’s okay, Walter. He wants to thank you for finding the man.” Dee motioned for Mike to speak.

  “That’s right,” Mike continued. “The police department would like to thank you for your help. You did the right thing by asking Director Morgan to call 911.” Walter’s rocking slowed a little.

  Mike pulled a photo out of the file he brought and showed it to Walter. “Do you recognize this man?” Walter began rocking faster again and making strange whimpering noises.

  “May I see that?” Dee asked.

  “Of course.” Mike handed Dee the photo. She studied it only a moment before her jaw dropped open.

  “This . . . this is the man Walter found?” Dee’s hand flew over her gaping mouth.

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  Dee nodded. “It’s Jack.”

  “Does he have a last name?” Mike wanted to plow through the questions he had for Dee, but she obviously knew him, and experience taught him that people needed a chance to process bad news.

  Dee frowned. “I don’t know. He always went by Jack.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “Jack’s been coming in to volunteer on Saturdays to help some of the kids with school work, especially math. He’s so good with them. Is he going to be okay?”

  “He’s in a coma, and the doctor doesn’t know if or when he’ll come out of it. As you can see, he was severely beaten.”

  Dee glanced at the picture again, then handed it back to Mike. “Jack was a client at this shelter himself when he was a teenager. Although he never shared his story, I doubted that Jack was his real name.” She paused. “He was a good kid, and smart, too. An anonymous donor offered a scholarship contest for one of our kids, and Jack won it. He attended a local college and got a degree in accounting, finally getting himself a job somewhere in Reed. I should have asked where he was working,” Dee said, apologizing.

  “Do you know who would want to hurt him?” Mike asked.

  “Not a soul. Everyone loved Jack.” A loud crash came from the vicinity of the kitchen. “Please excuse me,” Dee said, racing to see what the commotion was about.

  “Not true. Not true,” Walter spewed out in two quick bursts.

  “What do you mean?” Mike asked. “Was there someone who didn’t like Jack? Do you know who might have wanted to hurt him?”

  Walter opened his mouth as if to speak. His wild eyes bounced around the room without focus, and he turned abruptly away, holding himself tighter and swaying back and forth with a greater intensity.

  Mike sighed. Evidently, he’d pushed his luck too far. When Dee returned, he handed her his business card.

  “Please call me if Walter remembers anything at all, even a small detail. And thank you for your time.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “I’m sorry Walter wasn’t more helpful. Maybe another day.” An individual entered the facility, peering about the room with uncertainty. “Excuse me,” she said, then rushed over to greet her new guest with a welcoming smile.

  ***

  After watching them leave, Walter pulled a bulging black garbage bag closer to him. It held his life’s belongings. Reaching inside it, he pushed a ratty shirt aside to reveal his new prized possession. The black baseball cap was the newest thing he owned. He was about to try it on, then reconsidered. Walter looked over his shoulder and saw the man named Mike hovering near the door writing in a small notebook. He stuffed it back in the bag and quickly covered it again with his shirt.

  Chapter Seven

  I changed my mind about meeting Shawn for dinner. Canceling those plans, however, proved more difficult than I’d expected. LaVon had probably given him a heads-up about me fainting at work—I could hear the worry in his voice when I spoke to him on the phone. He offered to have dinner at his place instead of going out, but I declined amid his protests. r />
  I couldn’t handle all of his questions yet. I expected him to ask about the headache and fainting, but I feared it would lead to more questions. It was sweet of him to care so much. Still, I knew if he asked what else was going on with me, I would try to lie and pretend all is well. Having no poker face, though, the red color rising up my neck to my darting eyes, would tell Shawn I was holding back. I needed to find answers to my own jumbled questions about the dreams, voices, and hand movements, before I could explain any of it to Shawn. I only hoped I wasn’t losing my mind. We still had lunch plans for the following day, so Shawn finally relented.

  Merlin did not hesitate to leap into the car the next day when it was time to head to the two local hospitals. It was Saturday, which meant volunteering at both Reed Memorial Hospital and Currie Children’s Center with Merlin in tow. Although Merlin was still considered a Therapy Dog Novice, he was terrific with the kids and had only a few more visits to earn his Therapy Dog title.

  It had actually been Dr. Sanderson’s idea. Returning to Reed Memorial, where I had been kidnapped a little over a year ago, forced me to face the trauma. With Merlin, LaVon, and Shawn by my side, the initial anxiety attacks had subsided by the third visit. Dr. Sanderson warned me, though, that it was an unusually quick improvement, and that they could return at any time. I liked to credit the improvement to seeing the joy Merlin brought to the children. Their smiles had made a huge difference. Now I looked forward to making the rounds on the children’s floor without needing the support of my friends, and there was no question that Merlin loved it as well. The new red bandana that I bought him contrasted with his dark fur, and he seemed to hold his head higher as though showing it off.

  “What kind of dog is he?” one little boy asked. He was petting Merlin with one hand and hanging on to his I.V. pole with the other.

  “Good question,” I said. “He’s a grand mix, or what some might call a mutt. I think he might be part lab, part retriever, and who knows what else. But I do know he’s one hundred percent lover and a great listener.”

  “Can I tell him a secret?” the boy asked in a shy voice. His brown eyes appeared huge within his small face.

  “Sure,” I said. “Merlin, sit.” Merlin sat on his haunches and waited patiently. “What’s your name?”

  “Mica.”

  “Merlin, this is Mica. I think he has something very important to tell you.” I squatted down to Mica’s eye level and said, “Merlin loves secrets. You can whisper right in his ear, and your secret will be safe with him.”

  A serious look crossed Mica’s face as he bent over and spoke quietly into Merlin’s ear. Merlin’s ears perked up at the sound of Mica’s soft voice. When Mica finished whispering, Merlin whined, then gave Mica a soft nudge toward the nearby reclining chair. Mica eased himself into it with a smile on his face and closed his eyes.

  “Okay, Merlin, that’s our cue to leave,” I said.

  Merlin and I finished greeting the other children on the floor, then left to meet Shawn for lunch at Currie Children’s Center, or CCC, as it was typically referred to by most in the area.

  Walking into the cafeteria, I spotted Shawn’s mop of curly brown hair and white doctor coat. He had to be the only doctor I knew whose lab coat was covered in children’s stickers. His ability to make the seriously ill children’s day a little brighter was one of the endearing qualities I loved about him. As I approached the table, he got up and greeted me with a warm embrace. Then he bent down to Merlin’s level.

  “Pick a hand,” he said, holding out two fists.

  Without hesitation, Merlin nudged Shawn’s right hand and was rewarded with a doggie treat. His tail wagged in appreciation.

  “Where’s my treat?” I teased.

  Shawn’s eyebrow raised and a crooked grin spread across his face. “For now, it’s our delectable grilled cheese and salad, compliments of Jean wearing the hair net over there. She promised me it was their best ever.”

  Shawn waved to the plump lady behind the counter, then put his fingertips to his lips as if to say “delizioso!” Jean laughed and waved him off good-naturedly in return.

  “Do you always have this much fun at work?” I asked.

  “I try. Some days are better than others, though.”

  Shawn focused his electric blue eyes on me, and I feared what was coming next. Fortunately, I was saved from his questions when a familiar figure walked toward us. Although his middle was thicker, and his hairline further back than I remembered, it was definitely Detective Mike Shafer with the Reed Police Department.

  Shawn recognized him as well and reached him first. The men shook hands and gave each other hardy slaps on the back. I rushed up and hugged him, which produced a beaming smile from the detective. When he realized everyone in the cafeteria was gawking at us, he became somber, clearing his throat.

  “I have a reputation as bad cop to uphold, and you two shitheads have me looking like Mr. Rogers. Thanks a lot.”

  Shawn pulled over an extra chair for him. “Sit down and take off your cardigan, and tell us what’s happening in your neighborhood.”

  “Still a wise ass, I see,” Mike said.

  “We haven’t seen you since you helped stop Dad’s murderer last year,” I said. “Dad would have wanted to thank you for everything you did, not just for him, but for the other victims as well. I’m not sure I thanked you enough.”

  “Now that you mention it, I wouldn’t say no to another bottle of scotch.” Mike winked. “The two of you played a big part in that, so how about I buy you each a cup of coffee, since that’s all I have time for today?”

  “Thanks, but we’re good,” I said, pointing to our steaming cups of brew. “What’s up, and how do you happen to be at CCC?”

  “I came by to see my niece, Sarah. I told her this hospital was the best, and that I had a friend who might be willing to keep an eye on her.” Mike looked at Shawn hopefully.

  “You know I will. How old is Sarah?”

  “She’s ten. Started having some trouble about a month ago. Her doc thought it best they do a thorough workup on her here to get some answers.” His voice thickened as he spoke, and Shawn shoved his coffee in front of Mike. Mike nodded thanks and took a sip.

  “Anyway, I need to get going. There’s a John Doe over at Reed Hospital who they need help identifying. Guy got beat up pretty bad in an alley near the Mission Shelter. Looks like whoever assaulted him wanted him dead, but somehow he survived. He’s in a coma, though, so it’s up to me to find some answers.”

  “And if anyone can do it, you can,” I said, raising my coffee cup in a salute.

  “It won’t be pretty, but you’ll get the job done,” Shawn added with a sly grin.

  “Like I said, still a wise ass,” Mike shot back.

  Mike stood and hustled out of the room as Shawn’s pager went off. Shawn ran a hand through his hair.

  “Go, save lives,” I said.

  “So dramatic,” Shawn said, giving me a quick kiss. “Wanna play doctor later?” He raised his eyebrows up and down.

  “I pity your patients. At least I can leave.” I kissed him back, then shoved him on his way. As I watched him walk away, I struggled with the mixed messages I was sending Shawn. Torn between wanting to be with him, and wanting to keep him at a distance, I realized I was being unfair to him. It was not only my distrust in my judgement of men that blocked me from allowing Shawn closer. A part of me also wondered if the promise Shawn had made to my dad to protect me, influenced his feelings toward me. We’d been through so much together, only time could separate the affection born out of shared trauma from the everlasting kind. But that would be difficult if I continued to hold him at a distance and avoid any questions from him about my dubious mental state. If Shawn only knew, I feared, he would have ran, not walked out of the room.

  Chapter Eight

  As dives go, Rocky’s Tap in Reed was one of the pits. Dark gray-green paint peeled from the exterior wood that was half-rotted from neglected roof and gutter repairs. A red neon sign flashed “O EN.” The interior matched the exterior in every way except for the smell of stale beer and fried food. Customers sat in dark despair, hugging their favorite bottle of courage that was never quite finished before ordering another.