Cowboy grimaced and dumped his pizza in front of him. “Okay, okay, we get it. If it didn’t taste bad enough, thanks for that imagery.” He shifted his meal to one side.
“This guy who escaped, he still here?”
“Oh yeah. But best of luck trying to get any sense out of him,” he said pointing with his spoon towards a guy on the far side of the room who was sitting alone at a table looking as if he was playing the piano. He wasn’t making any noise but he was definitely in his own world. His fingers would drum from one end of the table up to the other end, then he would flip his head back as if he was singing out loud.
Cowboy jabbed a spoon at him. “You think that’s nuts, you should see him when he does air guitar.”
“What’s his name?”
“Rocket Man.”
Jack frowned. “What?”
“You know… like the Elton John song.” At which point Edgar burst into his rendition of the chorus. Cowboy joined in swaying side to side. Einstein shifted to the left to distance himself from the madness. Jack eyed the guy across the room. His head turned and a smile formed before he pointed at them then continued to play the table like a piano.
“All right. Keep it down,” Jenkins yelled.
“Come on, join in, Jenkins, you old fart,” Edgar said.
“What’d you say?” He charged over but before he could reach Edgar, Jack stood up and shouldered him. Jenkins responded by pulling his personal alarm and tackling Jack to the floor. All hell broke loose in the cafeteria. Patients jeering, others getting on top of tables. Food was thrown, trays hit against the tables. Jenkins hauled Jack out under the fire of drinks and food while other psych techs and nurses tried to get everyone to calm down.
He was dragged into a seclusion room. Porter closed the door while Jenkins laid down a beating using an extendable baton. He had stashed it under his uniform, hidden from view. Batons weren’t allowed by anyone except security but that didn’t stop him from using one. A few sharp blows to the legs and Jack fired back with a fist to the gut before kicking Porter in the nuts and then slamming Porter into Jenkins. Both of them groaned on the floor as the door swung open and in came a nurse, and Seth. “What the—?”
Jack pointed to the baton.
“Get them out of here,” the nurse said to Seth. Both of them groaned as they got up, holding their head, Porter holding his nuts with his other hand. They staggered out, sneering at him as they exited. Once the door was closed, the nurse picked up the baton. “Where did this come from?”
“Ask Jenkins.”
“He used it on you?”
“Tried to.”
The woman stared at him. She was about five foot nine, dark hair pinned back, oval face, pretty looking. He glanced at her name tag. It read Nurse Cross. “Do you remember who put you in the ECT room?”
“Same individuals.”
She nodded. “They turn it on?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He refused to say as he knew what it would mean. Angelo Gafino was considered dead. Saying a dead man turned on the ECT machine would only validate his craziness. “Mr. Winchester. Who turned it on?”
He looked down.
“You’re not helping yourself.”
As she turned to leave, he said, “Actually I am.”
They locked eyes for a second before she exited.
After he was strapped down using only four of the five restraints. There wasn’t much to the room. It was empty barring a bed. There was a window that let in light but that was it. He felt a needle go in his forearm and then his mind went hazy.
“You sure this is it?” Dalton asked the kid. Without a ride, he’d taken a taxi just southwest of Apalachin. On a long stretch of road, Dalton bent down and found what appeared to be a few fragments of glass from a taillight, and not far from that were grooves in the earth as if a vehicle had come off the road and the grass had grown over but not managed to cover the deep tracks in the earth. However, there were no tire marks on the road. Four months of weather had wiped away any sign of that. Had the cops taking Jack seriously, they would have clearly seen the signs.
Someone had swooped in quickly and removed the vehicle and any large pieces of debris. There was so much about the situation that didn’t make sense. Was this retribution from the Gafino family? Was Jack trying to drop him a hint? Or was he just remembering someone that mattered? Either way, the fact that Jack had been set up, meant that someone was behind it. The question was who, and where were they now?
“These men who paid you to send Jack to the tavern. They still in town?”
“Haven’t seen them since.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
He shrugged. Dalton sighed. It felt like they were taking three steps forward and two back. Even if they could prove there had been an accident, without Dana’s body, a vehicle or witnesses that would confirm Jack didn’t kill the Lewis family, an appeal wouldn’t stand a chance in the court system.
Kelly peered out the window as a light rain fell. They were parked in a lot across from Temple Street where Dr. Grossman’s office was. Upon arrival they’d gone in and asked to see him but were told he was too busy. Zach had suggested they wait for him to finish his shift as it was near the end of the day and he thought blindsiding him in the parking lot was more likely to get results than arranging a bogus doctor’s appointment.
“You mind?” Kelly asked as the SUV filled up with cigarette smoke. Zach
