The Day of Legion (10 page)

Patricia rubbed her eyes. She was weary, but kept reading the file. Her own initial assessment was next. Jason presented as one would expect a five-year-old boy who had just seen his mother fight to the death, trying to protect him from a man trying to kill him. She shook her head.

She described him as timorous, seeking solace in an imaginary friend. Not unusual in a child his age, especially after suffering trauma at this level, but his reliance on this ”friend” appeared much stronger than anything she’d seen. Children younger than Jason who had seen one parent murder another didn’t rely on their imaginary friend as much.

When she asked a question, he would look to his right before answering. When she asked him what he was doing, he told her he was seeing if it was all right with Christo if he answered the question. When he was satisfied it was okay, he’d provide an answer.

He refused to talk about Christo himself though, he went silent when asked.

A knock startled her. She looked up and saw a man at the door.

“Doctor Leland?” he asked.

“Yes, can I help you?”

He held up a badge and photo ID in a small black leather case. “I’m Detective Ravenbrook. I’m here to discuss Jason Hansen. I’ve been assigned to his case to see if we can figure out what’s going on. I’m sure you’re aware there are multiple investigations in motion around the boy. Any insight you can give us may help.”

Patricia motioned to the seat beside her desk. The detective entered, sat down, and looked around.

“I’ve seen some offices in my time, but this is something else!” He smiled and shook his head.

“Yes, forgive my closet space. You should try working here all the time.”

He smiled at her again. “Maybe a picture would brighten it up.”

“Yes, a fire might do the same.”

He laughed and nodded. He was friendly and put her at ease. He seemed like a nice guy. The other officers who had been in were a little rough and a bit rude.

“I’ve already spoken to two detectives earlier in the evening,” she said. “I gave them what I could.”

“Yes, but as I said there are three investigations running and they all tie together in some way. Firstly, Jason’s father was in jail, accused of homicide. He was charged with murdering a woman and dumping her body in a ditch on the side of the road. That is the first investigation. Secondly, he was murdered, beaten to death in his cell by another prisoner. That’s the second investigation. The third investigation pertains to the mess that happened today.

“We do know that an intruder entered Jason’s room with a syringe and attempted to inject it into his IV tube. From the statement the nurse gave, we believe the impostor was spotted by Jason’s doctor. He confronted the man as the nurse walked into the room. The two men started to struggle when the intruder tried to ‘doctor’ the IV. The nurse called security. Three guards showed up. One was knocked out straight off, one was injected and incapacitated, the doctor was knocked out and the third guard had his neck broken during the struggle.

“The nurse says she tried to get in the intruder’s way, but he knocked her into the wall and her ribs were broken. That left Jason’s mother. She jumped on his back and wrapped her legs around the intruder’s waist and dug at his eyes. According to the nurse left lying on the floor, the mother was the most effective of all. The intruder tried to run backwards into the wall to crush her, but he hit the window instead. Both died.”

“Well, you have it all covered,” Patricia said. She had known most of it, including the fact Jason’s father had been murdered in prison, but didn’t know he was accused of murder himself. She made a mental note to update her file when the detective left.

“Which part of the investigation are you working on?” she asked.

“All of them and none,” he replied. He continued when she looked confused. “The three incidents are being investigated by separate teams. We believe there may be a common thread. I have been assigned to conduct a shadow investigation, where I look for any similarities in the separate cases and try and link them.”

“What makes you think there are links?” she asked.

“That, I can’t divulge right now,” he replied.

“Okay,” she said. “So, what do you want from me?”

“I know you’ve made an initial assessment on Jason. I want to know if he mentioned anything about his father or...”

Patricia cut him off, lifting her hand. “You know I can’t discuss patient assessments. It’s privileged. You’ll need a warrant. All I can tell you is he’s a very troubled boy and he didn’t say anything to me that I feel pertains to the other two investigations. Obviously, he’s a witness to the third incident. Your child interview unit has booked me to sit in on Thursday when they visit him.”

Detective Ravenbrook stood up and extended his hand. They shook. It was the first time she had really looked at all of him, rather than just his face. He was a little taller than she, about five foot eleven inches. He was in shape. He kept his dark hair short in a military cut. The top was spiked but rounded. He had five o’clock shadow, which she thought suited him perfectly. His dark brown eyes were warm, his smile friendly. She guessed he was in his early thirties.

“If I can help out with anything else, let me know,” she told him.

He reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a business card. She read it.
Detective David Ravenbrook.
David, she liked that.

“Ravenbrook. That’s an interesting name,” she said.

“Yeah, I get that a bit,” he said. “It goes back to my English ancestors.”

“I don’t know much about my ancestors,” she said. “Only that they came from somewhere in Europe.”

He smiled again. “Listen, if you do call me, just use my cell phone number. With three investigations to overview I’m not in the office much.”

“No problem,” she replied.

She watched him walk out of her office. Not too bad from behind either, she thought. His suit was a little old and ruffled, but fit him well.

She decided she was going to stop at the gym on the way home, and get a bottle of wine for dinner. After putting her files away and locking her office, she made her way to Jason’s room. She showed her identification to the officer at his door and went in. He was sound asleep.

Chapter Twelve

By the time she got to her car, Patricia decided she was far too tired for the gym. She went straight home, after the supermarket wine aisle. She showered and changed into sweats, prepared a light chicken salad for dinner, and sat on the sofa with a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and watched television.

She lived alone; had done so for some time. When she broke off an engagement, she moved into the two bedroom apartment in the central business district, and loved it. It was walking distance to the hospital and gym, close to shops, although she didn’t shop much, close to cafés and restaurants and, more importantly, it was quiet.

It was a building the city had listed as ‘historic’ so the owners couldn’t do anything to it without council approval. It had no elevator which appealed to artists and doctors. Artists chose it because of the classic structure, doctors because of its proximity to the hospital. The phone rang, making her jump.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Doctor Leland?” the male caller asked.

“Yes, who is this?” she asked.

“This is Detective Ravenbrook. I’m sorry to call you at home and this late, but I’m just tying up a few loose ends and wondered if you had thought of anything you could pass on to us in regards to the cases.”

“No,” she replied. “I told you there was nothing I could think of and I’ve not thought of anything since.”

“Okay, well thank you for your time. I’ll leave you to your privacy.”

“How did you get my home number?”

“You gave it to the other detectives,” he replied. “Good night.”

“Good night, detective.”

Patricia thought it was very odd. She had spoken to him less than three hours ago and told him what she could. It wasn’t much, but there wasn’t much to say yet. She secretly hoped he might have called to ask her out but lost his nerve.

“I can dream,” she said to herself, exhaling loudly.

About half an hour later she went to bed. She lay there, looking through old photo albums. It helped her to sleep. She thought it was because she felt trapped in her last relationship, and she wanted to feel that freedom she felt when she left him, which would relax her.

The photos were of her and Adam and their friends, mostly at parties. They were laughing and joking around. One particular photo always caught her attention: it showed her and Adam dancing at one of his work functions. The photographer had caught the moment they looked each other in the eye. He was deeply in love and it showed. She wasn’t and it showed. Not long after that, she left.

Adam took it hard and abused her. He demanded his engagement ring back and told her he never wanted to see her again. She hadn’t seen him since. His parents weren’t very friendly afterwards. They saw her in Starbucks, waved briefly, then walked out.

She closed the photo album and slid it under her bed, turned the light off and was asleep within five minutes.

A loud bang woke her up. It sounded like someone on the fire escape outside her window. She was on the third floor, but an old metal fire escape ran up the side of the building. Usually the sliding ladder on the second floor was up, out of reach from anyone on the ground, so she assumed it was her neighbor’s cat again. It was a cute little grey, fluffy ball and she loved it, but not at three in the morning. It had a habit of sitting on her windowsill and scratching at the glass.

She got out of bed, lifted the window up and poked her head out. She had only just fallen asleep and was drowsy and confused. A cold wind chilled her as she stood there in a light pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. A shiver ran down her spine, making her squirm on the spot.

Someone just ran over my grave, she thought.

There was no one there. No cat either. She looked down and saw the fire escape was still out of reach of the ground.

Just as she was about to close the window, she saw a figure across the street. The street lights on the corner weren’t working and the figure stood in the dark, but she could make someone out. It looked like they were looking up at her. She couldn’t see their eyes, but got that feeling from the shadow.

The figure didn’t move, just stood there, and so did she, watching. A feeling of dread built in her. She got nervous. The figure remained, still and quiet. She decided it was time to call the police.

She left the window and grabbed her cell phone. She dialed as she walked back to the window. The operator answered.

“State emergency service required. Fire, police or ambulance.”

“Uh...sorry, I misdialed,” Patricia answered. She stared out the window and across the road. The figure was gone and the streetlights were glowing, brightly illuminating the corner.

She went back to bed, but couldn’t fall asleep again. There was no way she imagined what she had just seen. Eventually, she fell into a light, fitful sleep where she dreamed of dark, caped figures, a dream she hadn’t had since she was a child.

The next morning Patricia felt wiped out. If she could have managed it, she wouldn’t have gone in to work, but there was too much to be done, too many patients relying on her. The work would just build up and be waiting there when she got back.

On her way in she stopped at Starbucks and brought the biggest Latte they had. When she got to the hospital, she saw Detective Ravenbrook talking to the front desk receptionist. She was surprised to see him there again, but with three investigations to oversee he had to cover everything.

He didn’t see her. She didn’t want to go over and talk to him when she had nothing further to add, so she walked to the elevator and went up to her floor. She stepped out and nearly walked into the old janitor.

“Sorry, Alan,” she laughed, almost spilling her coffee on him.

He smiled at her. “Careful, Patricia. I’ve got two years before I retire, I don’t want to get third degree burns, thank you.”

She kept on walking, but he called out to her.

“Oh by the way, you should lock your office door when you leave at night. There are a lot of people who come through here.”

She turned around. “I did lock it.”

He shook his head and carried on, pushing his cart down the hall. Patricia walked quickly to her office.

The door was ajar. She inspected the lock, but it didn’t appear to have been forced. The office was just as she left it. She could see the entire space from the doorway. Her desk appeared how she left it. She decided it wasn’t another hospital employee. It all seemed ok.

Then she saw the filing cabinet. Initially it had looked all right, but now she noticed the top drawer was slightly open. When she got closer she saw the lock had been popped and was hanging on by a piece of metal. It was a weak lock anyway. It was more of a hindrance than prevention. A small screw driver could easily force it.

She opened the drawer with her sleeve over her fingers and looked in. There were a lot of files in the upright folders. She would have to compare her list with the remaining files. She picked up the phone and called security to report the break-in, then had a thought just as they answered.