37
DR. HICKS, A TOP FBI forensic psychiatrist, was also an extremely competent hypnotist in his own right, and a huge Beatles fan. He didn’t wait for the rest of the FBI team, he arrived by himself that afternoon, his eyes bright with excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning, Ox thought. Dr. Hicks introduced himself and shook hands with Ox. Ox waved over at Blessed. “There he is, sir.”
Dr. Hicks turned immediately to look down at the motionless middle-aged man. He shook his head. “So this is Blessed Backman. An interesting name, don’t you think? He looks harmless enough. Talk to me,” he said, turning his formidable attention on Ox. “Tell me what this man did to you.”
Ox told him.”... I wasn’t there, you know, inside my own brain, at least not until the pain got me back into myself.” Ox jabbed his fingers through his flattop. “Sounds stupid and weird. You believe me?”
Dr. Hicks was frowning down at Blessed again. “Of course I believe you.”
He pinched the back of Blessed’s hand. Blessed didn’t react. Dr. Hicks lifted the blindfold, then his eyelids, stared at him a good minute, then said,
Savich said from the doorway, “I told Sherlock you’d be here, no way would you wait for the team. You didn’t even check in at the B-and-B or stop at the men’s room or eat a bagel, did you?”
Dr. Hicks gave Savich a really big smile. “I didn’t even eat an apple. I couldn’t wait to see this guy. Drs. Chambers and Bailey will be here tomorrow. I’ll tell you, the report you gave them had them flying at me with questions and speculation, not to mention a cargo bay full of disbelief. I left them with their heads together, plotting out what kinds of tests, what kind of restraints, to arrange for him at Quantico. We can get an MRI here to see if there’s a brain tumor. We can see if he can bend spoons, that sort of thing, later. I hope he comes out of it soon. I really want to talk to him.”
Savich nodded. “Come outside with me for a moment, Dr. Hicks.”
Once in the hallway, Savich looked at Sherlock, who nodded and and without preamble, “We appreciate your enthusiasm, Dr. Hicks; that’s one of the reasons we called you. But we’ve got a major security problem here until we get Blessed to Quantico. We need to keep him in this room while he’s here.”
Dr. Hicks said thoughtfully, “I can’t begin to imagine such power, to actually make someone willing to kill themselves. And you, Savich, you are immune to him. Life never ceases to amaze, does it?”
“You’re right about that,” Savich said. “I’m also going to set up a video camera in the room so we can monitor Blessed remotely. I sure hope it doesn’t happen, but it’s possible, given Dr. Truitt’s skeptical response to Blessed’s hypnotic ability, that we just might get a live demonstration if the hospital staff doesn’t believe us. If this does hap-pen, I just hope no one gets hurt.”
“Let’s have Dr. Truitt attend him,” Ethan said. “See what he does.”
Savich said to Ethan, “That would be justice. Ethan, you okay with this? If Blessed does try anything, there’ll be living proof on film. A defense lawyer could claim it was all staged, but we’ll worry about that when we need to.”
Dr. Hicks held up his hands, palms out. “Hey, wait, I want to speak to him first, listen to his voice, have him talk to me. I want to look into those eyes of his. Why can’t I do it? If he does anything to me, Ox here can smack me.”
Savich said, “Tell you what, sir. If he wakes up while you’re here, you can have a go at him. But his blindfold stays on. No more victims for him on my watch.”
Ethan said, “When you get that camera set up, Savich, I’ll see that Ox drags his chair out here into the hall.”
38
“IS ANYONE THERE? How can I know if anyone’s there if I can’t Yes, I’m here, Mr. Backman. I’m sorry about the blindfold. I’m your nurse, Cindy Maybeck. Do you need anything, sir?”
His voice sounded weak, querulous. “I need you to take off this ridiculous blindfold.”
“ I’m sorry, sir, but I was told to leave it in place, for my own pro-tection, not that I believe it, but I have to follow orders. Let me take your pulse, listen to your heart.”
Blessed felt her lift his wrist, place two fingers against the pulse, “It’s that hick sheriff; he’s torturing me because we had a disagreement. Here I’m old enough to be his daddy and he’s afraid of me. Isn’t that a kick? Listen, how would you like to lie in darkness, Nurse, with your hands strapped down? I can’t even scratch my nose. It’s inhu-mane, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Backman. I was told—”
“I hurt; I hurt real bad.”
“Now, sir, you had a shot of morphine not an hour ago. Why don’t you try to sleep? Sleep will make you heal faster. You want me to scratch you anywhere?”
Blessed hissed out a moan but didn’t say anything more.
Cindy took his pulse. Nice and slow and regular. Then she put a cuff on his good arm and a stethoscope below it. He had good pressure, a little on the high side but nothing to merit alarm. She straightened, looked down at him. She said softly, “Don’t cry, Mr. Backman, you’re getting the blindfold wet.”
He sobbed.
“You’re going to make yourself all itchy if you don’t stop crying, Mr. Backman.”
“Just wipe my eyes for me, Nurse. Please. What can I do? My hands are tied down, I’m helpless.”
She held herself silent for a few seconds. She’d heard Dr. Truitt say all of these precautions were ridiculous; he was an old man, for God’s sake. But then the sheriff and the FBI agent had told everyone not to remove his blindfold and why. He could hypnotize someone instantly? She’d never heard of such a thing. She agreed with Dr. Truitt. This poor old man, shot twice, helpless as a foal—she said, “I really shouldn’t, I’d be disobeying orders. Oh, all right, but only for a moment. It’ll be our secret, all right? You promise you won’t tell anyone?”
His voice was liquid with tears. “I swear I won’t say anything, Nurse.”
Cindy eased the blindfold over the top of his head. She wiped away his tears. Real tears, she saw, and she knew Dr. Truitt was right. This poor man couldn’t do anything to anybody. She studied his pale face for a moment. No, surely he couldn’t—Blessed Backman opened his eyes and looked up at her.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “You’re quite pretty, all that blond hair. Is it real?”
“Yes,” Cindy said, “from my grandmother.”
“You’re a pretty, helpful girl. Unfasten the straps on my wrists.” He smiled up at her.
Cindy didn’t hesitate. She unfastened the straps and straightened to stand next to the bed, unmoving.
Blessed slowly eased onto his side, pressed his palm to his bandaged shoulder, and sat up. He winced, cursed softly. Cindy said, “Can I help you?”
He looked up at her and smiled again. “No, thank you, Nurse. That is much better. Now, I want you to bring my clothes.”
Cindy walked over to the patient’s closet that held his shirt, trousers, and shoes. She pulled them off the hangers. “I don’t see any underwear or socks,” she said.
“It’s all right. Bring them to me now.”
Cindy turned back with the clothes over her arm.
“I want you to go outside and talk to that guard, distract him; you’re pretty enough to turn the head of a dead man. Flirt with him, keep him busy until I call you. Then you can bring him in with you, all right?”
“All right.”
In the hospital room next door, Savich, Ethan, and Dr. Hicks were watching them. Savich said, “Well, that didn’t take long. Do you think Dr. Truitt will believe us now?”
“You said Dr. Truitt is a skeptic, Savich. He could say this was all performance.”
“Good, you sound just like a defense attorney,” Savich said, “We’ll play it out some more, until and unless he acts against the nurse, then we move fast.” But he didn’t want to. Savich watched Cindy Maybeck walk out of the
