Nothing. He remained quiet.
“Pastor Boone wanted me to give you this. We usually wouldn’t after what’s happened but I figure it might be a letter of support, and right now that’s probably what you need.” He set a blue envelope on Jack’s chest. He looked at it but didn’t touch it. “If there is anything you want to talk about, you know where my office is.” He nodded a few times and then exited leaving Jack alone.
He glanced at the envelope again, then his eyes darted to the door before he sat up and thumbed it open. Inside was a small, folded white note. He opened it and his eyes saw that it was signed by Dalton. Quickly, he scanned from top to bottom, stopping only when Dalton broke the news of Dana’s death and potential resting place, at the bottom of a river or lake.
He squeezed his eyes closed, forcing down his emotion, and everything he felt for her. Despite what some might have thought, every second since that crash had been agony. The not knowing. Even though he believed she was dead after seeing her face in that vehicle, he didn’t know that she had been unconscious when they dragged him away. To hear that she had bled out only angered him more.
The letter validated what he believed to be true. With so many meds pumping through his veins every day and dealing with crazies, he had started to convince himself that perhaps she hadn’t died, and that maybe he was responsible for the Lewis murders.
Then this.
Although many had lied to him, he could always rely on Dalton for the truth.
There, at the bottom of the letter was a phone number, and the name of a pizzeria in New Jersey. He couldn’t believe it. Of all the places. It had meaning to him, to Angelo, to many of the kids on the block. Romano’s Pizzeria was where he first met Angelo. Like many others drawn into Gafino’s world at a young age, Angelo had been the catalyst for Jack.
Jack lay back on the bed, staring at the number.
Angelo was back in New Jersey.
Back on his home turf.
Jack closed his eyes and drifted to his youth, to better days when Angelo was different, before his father tainted him, destroyed what was good about the kid. Before he ruined them both.
Three days Jack was kept in isolation. Far longer than before. Far longer than what was typical. Twenty-four hours was the norm. He knew it was being used as a form of punishment. It was only meant to be used temporarily in emergencies when patients were a danger to themselves or others. Although not being restrained was new, but he soon came to learn that he had Nurse Cross to thank for that. In that time he never saw Jenkins or Porter. Seth visited with his food, and he had frequent visits from the psychologist. He paced back and forth, did push-ups to keep himself strong and planned out what he would do to Angelo once he got out.
On the morning of his release, a large number of patients rose from their tables and applauded him. Crazy or not, somewhere buried inside there was a part of them that wanted to be free, and anyone who had the balls to try and break out was treated like a hero.
“All right, settle down!” Jenkins said, appearing in the doorway.
For a brief moment, Jack thought he’d been fired. Unfortunately not. He glanced at Jack and glared. Jack took a seat with his group, tossing his tray down and sliding in beside Edgar. “You seen Mack?”
“Mack?”
“Rocket Man.”
“Oh him. Yeah. Earlier. He thought you’d get out.”
“The exit was blocked. Wanted to find out if he knew about it.”
“I don’t think he would have sent you down if he had,” Cowboy said. Jack scooped up some oatmeal that was like water and stared at him.
“Why didn’t you go when you had the chance?”
Cowboy shook his head. “Out there they can get at me.”
“Right. The CIA.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Yeah, like Harry over there is telling the truth about being God, or James is telling the truth about seeing ants everywhere.” Jack tapped his temple. “It’s all in your head, Cowboy.”
“It’s not.” He got up and changed tables.
“You shouldn’t rile him up. It’s not his fault,” Edgar said.
Jack gritted his teeth. “I was this close. This close to getting out of here, Edgar,” Jack said. “I could see the light from the moon reflecting off the water at the exit.” He sighed and shook his head. “Now I’ve got to find another way out.”
Edgar cast him a sideways glance and frowned. “You’re gonna try again? Are you out of your mind?”
“Apparently so, according to the court system.” He shoveled away more of his oatmeal.
“But after what they did to you. You want to go through that again? There is no way I could handle that. I would rather die than be stuck in isolation. I nearly lost my mind last time they put me in there.”
He chuckled as he glanced over at Jenkins who was eyeballing him. “You honestly think doing nothing is going to keep me out of harm’s way? No, I need out.”
“How then? That was the only way out,” Edgar replied.
“Only known way out. There’s always another way.” He tapped his spoon in the air. “I’ve just got to find it.”
A tray hit the ground.
A line of patients cleared the way as Tyler Sutton pushed his way to the front of the line.
Edgar sneered. “Man, that guy’s an asshole.”
“Yeah, well don’t you go saying that to his face or he’s liable to rip you a new one,” Jack said.
“Ah, I’m not afraid of him. Here, watch this…” Edgar
