Walter several weeks to chart the best route to the chapel.
As he walked down the tunnel, his thoughts drifted back in time to his stay at Sinclair, the nights he had spent alone inside his room rocking back and forth on his bed, sweating, the medicine burning inside his veins. He would look to his drawings of the Blessed Mother holding his hand and sometimes the pain became manageable. Sometimes Nurse Jenny took him to the chapel.
It was during his first visit to the chapel that Mary revealed herself to him.
Mary's dead son, the saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, was sprawled across her lap. Mary's sorrowful expression pierced Walter's heart. He felt the weight of Mary's unbearable loss.
Kneeling, Walter closed his eyes and prayed to his mother.
I know I wasn't a good boy. You were good to me and I know you did the best you could. I forgive you. I love you, Momma.
A new voice spoke to him: Your mother is safe. She's here with me in heaven.
Walter opened his eyes. Mary, the Blessed Mother of God, was looking directly at him.
I know how much you love your mother, Walter. She wants me to look after you. Come here.
The Blessed Mother stood. Jesus tumbled from her lap, dropping to the floor, and Mary stood there in her flowing blue and white robes, arms wide open, ready to accept him, to bring him closer to the secret world held inside the red-painted heart glowing in the centre of her chest.
There's no reason to be afraid. I love you so much. Come here and let me hold you.
Walter obeyed the Blessed Mother. He left the pew and went to Mary and she held him in her arms.
You're a brave boy. I'm very proud of you.
Surrounded by Mary's love, Walter cried.
You'll never be alone, Mary said, kissing the top of his head. I'll always be with you. I love you so much.
Walter came back to the chapel and visited Mary often. When they were alone, she would reveal herself to him. The crippling loneliness, the pain, fear, isolation and loss – it vanished every time Mary held him in her arms.
In time, Mary shared all of her secrets. They had many wonderful conversations. When the hospital closed, Walter found a way back to his Blessed Mother.
Walter walked through the abandoned hallways of paint-chipped walls. He didn't like the dark but he wasn't scared. Mary was close; he couldn't hear her voice yet but he could feel her love stirring inside his heart.
He put the flashlight in his back pocket and climbed the rusted ladder bolted to the wall. When he reached the top, he ran through the cold hallways. He was almost in tears when he slipped through the final door and into the last hallway.
Mary's love swelling inside him, Walter picked up the wooden ladder and walked carefully over the debris to a hole in the floor. He slid the ladder through, and when he set foot on the gravelly bottom, he pushed open the door and moved inside the chapel. He grabbed his flashlight.
His Blessed Mother stood at the end of the aisle. Her expression of eternal sorrow disappeared, turning into a smile when she saw him.
Walter, you came.
Sweet relief flooded through him. His legs buckled. He grabbed the edge of a pew to keep from falling.
I'm so glad you're here. I missed you.
'I missed you.' His eyes were burning, wet.
Come talk to me about Hannah.
Walter stumbled down the aisle. He couldn't hold his Blessed Mother's love any longer. It was too strong, too powerful. He dropped to his knees, weeping. He closed his eyes.
Hail Mary, full of Grace, I am with thee…
Mary screamed. Walter blinked, and through his tears saw a bright light aimed at him. Walter raised his hands.
'Down on your stomach and put your hands behind your head.'
The voice came from the man holding a flashlight and moving up the aisle fast – a short, wide man wearing a knit hat. He was holding a gun.
Walter looked over the man's shoulder, at Mary standing tall, her face twisted in anger.
Don't let him take you away, Walter. The doctors will pump you full of those awful chemicals and you won't be able to hear me and they'll take you away and you won't be able to see me.
The man with the gun spoke into a walkie-talkie pinned to his jacket. 'Brian, it's Paul, I need backup.' Then to Walter: 'Lie down on your stomach and put your hands behind your head.'
Walter felt his mother's love bleeding away. The man with the gun was going to take him to a hospital room and the doctors would pump him full of the medicine and he would never see Mary again and without his Blessed Mother he would be lost in limbo for eternity – he would die without her.
Walter turned off the flashlight and tossed it into the air as he rolled into the pew.
A gunshot, the muzzle flash jumping like lightning inside the chapel, and Walter was on his feet.
'Brian, get in here, he's running!'
Walter knew every inch of the chapel by heart. His hand was on the back of the pew and he saw the beam of the man's flashlight moving through the chapel. Another man was shouting, another flashlight beam crisscrossing through the darkness. Walter ran up the centre aisle, heading for the back of the chapel, and heard another gunshot, the muzzle flash lighting up the door to the room holding the ladder, and he ran inside and threw the door shut.
A gunshot splintered the door. Walter climbed the ladder, legs shaking, rubbery. He reached the top and scrambled to his feet as another gunshot blew apart the wood. Walter gripped the ladder and pulled it up. Below him, the door flew open, banging against the wall. Walter tossed the ladder into the hallway. The man with the knit hat moved into the room, saw the hole in the ceiling and fired. The man started to climb the mountain of debris and Walter grabbed a brick and threw it down the hole, the man screamed and Walter threw another brick, then another. A gun fired again but Walter was gone, running through the dark.
78
'Walter Smith isn't here,' Darby said.
Dr Tobias looked over his bifocals. 'What's that?'
'Walter Smith's entire pharmaceutical history is listed in the pharmacy database but his name doesn't appear in your patient database.'
The hospital director groaned as he got out of his chair. Darby handed him the printed sheets listing Walter Smith's medications.
At the beginning of the year a physician named Dr Christopher Zackary had renewed Walter Smith's prescription for Lycoprime. Walter Smith had been using the product for the past year and a half. He had used the Derma camouflage concealer steadily since the early eighties. The medical entries for Derma stopped in 1997, the time when it no longer required a prescription.
Tobias scanned the pages then set them aside and typed on the keyboard 'Smith, Walter'. The search came up empty.
'That's not possible,' Tobias said. 'If he's in the pharmacy database, then his patient file should be in our system.'
'I'd like to see his paper file.'
'Dr Zackary has most likely gone home for the day. Let me see if I can find someone to unlock his office.'
Darby leaned back in her chair, stretching as she stared up at the ceiling tiles. It was after 10 p.m.
Why was Walter Smith's patient file missing? Was it some clerical oversight or computer glitch? A hospital of this size would have a system in place to perform weekly if not daily backups of its computer systems.
Her cell phone rang.
'You were right,' Bill Jordan said. 'He came back to the chapel.'
Darby stood, almost knocking over the chair. 'You've got him in custody?'
