He punched the power button on the remote control, and the screen came alive with snowy static. William grunted and scanned the other channels. They all showed the same thing.
Great. The cable was out. He stood up from the chair and crossed over to the television. He checked the cable box and the other cords and connections. Everything appeared to be fine. A power line must be down, he concluded. A brilliant flash of lightning illuminated the wall of windows and the house lights flickered as a mild threat. He huffed out a tired breath and went in search of gas lamps, flashlights, and candles.
He lit the fireplace in the living room and master bedroom. From the upstairs linen closet, he gathered extra blankets and comforters. When he put everything in place, there was a mighty thunderclap overhead, and the lights went out.
He returned to Josie’s bedside and changed her IV bag, mopped the sweat from her fevered brow, then settled back into the chair across from the bed and watched her.
His thoughts wrestled with how she came to be admitted to a psychiatric ward under a false name. Could it truly be a case of mistaken identity? How likely was it that the hospital had gotten her mixed up with another patient?
Slim to none.
However, sixteen years was a long time. He’s lived another life since then and was sure that she had, too.
His gaze fell away from the bed and slid to the medical chart on the vanity table next to him. He picked up the chart and flipped through it once again. All the while, the square box refused to cram into the small triangle.
William set the chart aside. With everything he had attended to that day, he didn’t have much time to call Marcus Hines again. The cable was still out, and there was no way fro him to know who was murdered. Had the murder happened while he was on the premises? Did he leave any clues to
Scientist say there was always clues, but he prayed that, in his case, it wasn’t true.
What if the woman was really Michelle Andrews?
He cleared his head of this train of thought. He had been over it numerous times before he concocted his plan to steal her away. He wasn’t mad, and he hadn’t taken the wrong woman.
An ear-piercing scream followed by a loud crash propelled William to his feet.
From the bed, Josie flailed about like a mad woman. Her jumbled words were incomprehensible, but it was clear that she no longer wanted the IV in her arm.
“No, no, Josie.” He rushed over to her and struggled to restrain her. At her surge of superhuman strength, William climbed onto the bed and pinned her hands down.
In response, Josie bucked, thrashed, and, as a last desperate attempt, sank her teeth into his arm.
He clenched his jaw shut. No matter what, he refused to release his hold on her, and after what seemed like an eternity, she gave up and drew away from his arm.
Seconds later, the fight left her body, and she fell limp beneath him.
Panting heavily, William held firm, suspicious of her abrupt surrender. Finally, as his adrenaline waned and Josie’s breathing became slow and even, he sighed with relief and released his grip. Immediately, Josie came up with a left hook that literally stunned him but didn’t knock him off of her. “Josie, stop. It’s me, William. I’m trying to help you.” She got another good blow across the high part of his left cheek before he was able to pin her back down. “No. No! Let me out,” she screamed. William’s heart raced while debated whether to give her a sedative. In the end, to do so would be counterproductive. Josie’s threats diminished to low grumbles.
It was a long time before William relaxed. When he did, he was fairly confident that she was sound asleep. At least he prayed she was. He couldn’t take another blow to the head.
He climbed off her and exhaled in a long, tired breath. He definitely had his work cut out for him, and he expected more outbursts before daybreak.
After he checked Josie’s IV tube, he righted the stand and spotted an old porcelain basin across the room. He stood up from the bed and walked over to retrieve it.
Minutes later, he’d filled the basin with iced water and gathered a few towels. He settled back beside the bed and dipped a towel into the water, wrung it out, and pressed it against her face.
She sighed softly in her sleep as if it was the very thing she needed.
The first seventy-two hours of detox were usually the hardest. He would do all he could to help her through it, even if it included being her punching bag.
When he finished cooling her off, he put everything away and retuned to the armchair. The rain continued outside. Instead of drifting off to sleep, he heard a light plopping sound.
He eased out of the chair again and quickly found the spot in the room where there was a small leak in the ceiling.
He rushed back downstairs and found a bucket to set under the drip. After a quick look through the house, he found two other places where he had to set pots.
Once he was through, he returned to the room and settled back into the armchair. But before he was able to close his eyes, Josie started up again.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 9
First thing Sunday morning, the rain finally stopped, and William found himself on the roof of the house. As a man who loved working with his hands, he found repairing the roof almost therapeutic.
Once he was through, he checked on his patient before heading back out to chop firewood. With him returning to work the next day, he now worried about the atmosphere at Keystone. The electricity and cable were still out, so he had no idea what was being reported on the news. At one point, his curiosity led him to sit on the car for news snippet, but he heard nothing. Because of that, he shied away from calling other colleagues to puck their brains on what was going on.
He also had the added worry of leaving Josie with Ecaterina. If her condition didn’t improve, there was no way he could leave her with a sixty-eight-year old woman.
The heavy exertion turned out to be just the stress reliever he needed. By the time he finished wielding a heavy ax and carrying the logs inside, he was ready for a hot shower and a nap.
The nap never came.
Instead he made mashed potatoes over a gas stove. The food would be soft enough for Josie to eat and easy on her stomach. From the cabinet, he retrieved a packet of instant apple cider and prepared that as well.
Josie remained curled in her favorite position with all the covers tucked beneath her.
He couldn’t help but smile as he moved over to the bed. He set down the tray and pressed a hand the bed. He set down the tray and pressed a hand against Josie’s forehead to check for a fever. It was against Josie’s forehead to check for a fever. It was still slightly elevated, but nothing life threatening. “Josie, I’m going to sit you up now,” he said, but he might as well be talking to a rag doll. Concerned, he checked the dilation of her eyes and again found nothing to be worried about. “Well, let’s see if I can get you to eat something.” He propped her up against the bed pillows and reached for the bowl.
He apportioned a small amount of potatoes onto a spoon, but couldn’t get Josie to eat. After about a half hour of coaxing, he gave up and put the food aside.
Two hours later, he tried again and still had no success.
As the day sped along, William struggled not to be alarmed by Josie’s behavior. It had been forty-two hours since he’d taken her from the institute, and by his calculations, she should be responding to the methadone and coming out of her fog.
With a frustrated sigh, he took the dishes back downstairs. He prepared himself another bowl of pasta and grabbed a warm beer from the fridge. He hoped the electricity would be back on before Ecatherina showed up Monday.
“Tomorrow,” he moaned. He would have to act as if nothing had happened. He frowned as he remembered Saturday’s news report. He really should try to call Hines again, but should he be worried? When he returned to work, would it be a trap?
He drew in a tired breath. He wasn’t at all comfortable with lying, but, at this point, what choice did he
