End of Watch (Bill Hodges Trilogy #3)(42)

Babineau, who is at last beginning to understand who is the boss, leaves Brady’s room. As always, it’s a relief to do that as himself. Because every time he comes back to Babineau after being Dr Z, there’s a little less Babineau to come back to.





10


Tanya Robinson calls her daughter’s cell for the fourth time in the last twenty minutes and for the fourth time gets nothing but Barbara’s chirpy voicemail.

‘Disregard my other messages,’ Tanya says after the beep. ‘I’m still mad, but mostly what I am right now is worried sick. Call me. I need to know you’re okay.’

She drops her phone on her desk and begins pacing the small confines of her office. She debates calling her husband and decides not to. Not yet. He’s apt to go nuclear at the thought of Barbara skipping school, and he’ll assume that’s what she’s doing. Tanya at first made that assumption herself when Mrs Rossi, the Chapel Ridge attendance officer, called to ask if Barbara was home sick. Barbara has never played hooky before, but there’s always a first time for bad behavior, especially with teenagers. Only she never would have skipped alone, and after further consultation with Mrs Rossi, Tanya has confirmed that all of Barb’s close friends are in school today.

Since then her mind has turned to darker thoughts, and one image keeps haunting her: the sign over the Crosstown Expressway the police use for Amber Alerts. She keeps seeing BARBARA ROBINSON on that sign, flashing on and off like some hellish movie marquee.

Her phone chimes the first few notes of ‘Ode to Joy’ and she races to it, thinking Thank God, oh thank God, I’ll ground her for the rest of the win—

Only it’s not her daughter’s smiling face in the window. It’s an ID: CITY POLICE DEPT. MAIN BRANCH. Terror rolls through her stomach and her bowels loosen. For a moment she can’t even take the call, because her thumb won’t move. At last she manages to press the green ACCEPT button and silence the music. Everything in her office, especially the family photo on her desk, is too bright. The phone seems to float up to her ear.

‘Hello?’

She listens.

‘Yes, this is she.’

She listens, her free hand rising to cover her mouth and stifle whatever sound wants to come out. She hears herself ask, ‘Are you sure it’s my daughter? Barbara Rosellen Robinson?’

The policeman who has called to notify her says yes. He’s sure. They found her ID in the street. What he doesn’t tell her is that they had to wipe off the blood to see the name.





11


Hodges knows something’s amiss as soon as he steps out of the skyway that connects Kiner Memorial proper to the Lakes Region Traumatic Brain Injury Clinic, where the walls are painted a soothing pink and soft music plays day and night. The usual patterns have been disrupted, and very little work seems to be getting done. Lunch carts stand marooned, filled with congealing plates of noodly stuff that might once have been the cafeteria’s idea of Chinese. Nurses cluster, murmuring in low tones. One appears to be crying. Two interns have their heads together by the water fountain. An orderly is talking on his cell phone, which is technically cause for suspension, but Hodges thinks he’s safe enough; no one is paying him any mind.

At least Ruth Scapelli is nowhere in sight, which might improve his chances of getting in to see Hartsfield. It’s Norma Wilmer at the duty desk, and along with Becky Helmington, Norma was his source for all things Brady before Hodges quit visiting Room 217. The bad news is that Hartsfield’s doctor is also at the duty desk. Hodges has never been able to establish a rapport with him, although God knows he’s tried.

He ambles down to the water fountain, hoping Babineau hasn’t spotted him and will soon be off to look at PET scans or something, leaving Wilmer alone and approachable. He gets a drink (wincing and placing a hand to his side as he straightens up), then speaks to the interns. ‘Is something going on here? The place seems a little riled up.’

They hesitate and glance at each other.

‘Can’t talk about it,’ says Intern One. He still has the remains of his adolescent acne, and looks about seventeen. Hodges shudders at the thought of him assisting in a surgery job more difficult than removing a thumb splinter.

‘Something with a patient? Hartsfield, maybe? I only ask because I used to be a cop, and I’m sort of responsible for putting him here.’

‘Hodges,’ says Intern Two. ‘Is that your name?’

‘Yeah, that’s me.’

‘You caught him, right?’

Hodges agrees instantly, although if it had been left up to him, Brady would have bagged a lot more in Mingo Auditorium than he managed to get at City Center. No, it was Holly and Jerome Robinson who stopped Brady before he could detonate his devil’s load of homemade plastic explosive.

The interns exchange another glance and then One says, ‘Hartsfield’s the same as ever, just gorking along. It’s Nurse Ratched.’

Intern Two gives him an elbow. ‘Speak no ill of the dead, asshole. Especially when the guy listening might have loose lips.’

Hodges immediately runs a thumbnail across his mouth, as if sealing his dangerous lips shut.

Intern One looks flustered. ‘Head Nurse Scapelli, I mean. She committed suicide last night.’

All the lights in Hodges’s head come on, and for the first time since yesterday he forgets that he’s probably going to die. ‘Are you sure?’