Asylum (Asylum, #1)(49)

Their voices bounced, muted, as if his skull had become an empty echo chamber. Dan tried to sit up, but his head just hurt too damn much. He fell back to the floor.

“Can you hear me? Hey! Are you all right? Did you hit your head?”

He stared up at the officer. Teague.

“Are you okay? Can you stand?”

That remained to be seen. At least his vision was starting to piece itself back together. Dan tried to nod. Ow. Bad idea.

“The window,” he slurred, trying to point the cops to where the man had escaped.

“Call an ambulance,” an officer was saying to his partner. He was kneeling at Felix’s side. “This one needs to get to the hospital. He’s been hit.” A blanket appeared from somewhere and the cop draped it over Felix. “Can’t have him going into shock.” Another blanket was wrapped around Dan’s shoulders.

“Mm fine,” Dan insisted. “The man . . . through the window.” A moment later, Teague helped him to his feet. The cops let him regain his balance, and the ache in his head gradually subsided as they waited for the paramedics.

The ambulance came, and they put Felix on a stretcher. He was stirring as they left the room, and trying to sit up. Soon Dan heard the sound of an ambulance moving away.

Dan stood on wobbly legs while they took his name and room number, and contact information for his parents.

“The guy is getting away,” he said desperately. “You can still catch him if you go now—he’s probably still on the roof.”

One of the cops ran over to the window and checked around outside. Finally, he turned back to them with a shrug.

“There’s no one out there,” he said. “And it’s a good fifty foot drop down to the ground.”

“He’s out there!” Dan shouted.

“Whoa, whoa, calm down, buddy,” Teague said. “Start at the beginning. What are you doing up here in the first place?” Teague took out a notepad and pencil.

Dan wanted to cry.

“I got up to go to the bathroom,” he said, not wanting to touch the thing with Jordan and the mysterious text message. “When I got back to my room Felix was gone. He’s been frazzled lately. He was the one who found Joe in the stairs. . . . The Sculptor sent me this weird poem thing and told me he would sculpt me if I met him on the fifth floor. I was scared Felix was with him, so I went looking. I didn’t want him wandering alone at night.”

“Uh-huh,” Teague said. He motioned for Dan to continue, but then a third cop strode up to them. She handed Teague a phone. Felix’s phone.

“I think you should see this,” she said. “And you need to confiscate this kid’s cell.”

Dan swallowed around a knot, the hot, sick feeling in his gut enough to make him want to double over and hurl. Both cops stared at him, waiting.

“What’s on Felix’s phone?” Dan asked, stumbling over the words. When had it gotten so hot in the room? He was sweating bullets. “Please, I’m sure I can explain if you just—”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can. Your phone, please.”

“But—”

“Your phone.” Teague narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going to ask again.”

It was no use protesting. Maybe this was for the best. His outbox probably had a message like “HELLO FELIX I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO BASH YOUR BRAINS IN WITH A CROWBAR.” Somehow, it would happen. Then he’d be taken to jail and locked up. At least then he couldn’t get into any more trouble. He’d be left alone with his thoughts, and that would finish him off without ever needing a trial.

Then Dan remembered he had a message from the Sculptor in his in-box. Now the police would have to believe him. And they could trace the number!

Dan handed Teague the phone. It would all be over soon.

Teague found his sent messages quickly. “Bingo,” he said triumphantly. “‘Fifth floor lounge, 3:30, I’ve got something cool to show you.’” He clucked his tongue softly. “Just what was on Felix’s phone. Sounds friendly enough, kid. What went wrong?”

“I didn’t send that,” Dan snapped, ballistic. “I didn’t. I swear to you. . . .”

“Do I look like an idiot?” Teague asked.

“Check my in-box!” Dan burst out. “I told you there’s a message there from the Sculptor telling me to meet him here!”

Teague looked at him strangely, but clicked on the in-box. There was a pause. “Nothing there, kid. No mysterious message. And like I said before, the Sculptor is dead.”

This was getting worse by the second. The sweat had soaked through the front of Dan’s shirt. He wanted to curl up and disappear.

“Why don’t you tell me what really happened.”

Dan took a deep breath. “Honestly, I don’t even know any more,” he said. Teague narrowed his eyes. “I tried to find a cop before I came up here but no one was around.”

“Kid, we’ve got cops on every floor.”

“There wasn’t one when I left my room!” Dan shouted. “All I know is I got to the fifth floor and heard Felix crying out for help. So I came in here and there was this huge guy with a crowbar. I ran at him.”

“Go on,” said Teague.

“We were fighting, and then he heard you guys coming and he jumped out that window.” Dan pointed to it again, feeling especially stupid.