Lineage(89)

John stared out of the darkened window in the kitchen before swallowing and gazing at Lance. His eyes looked strange, and it had nothing to do with the broken vessels surrounding the pupils. Lance could see a wavering there, like a candle held before a breeze.

“She’s still alive.”





Chapter 9



“A man’s conscience, like a warning line on the highway, tells him what he shouldn’t do—but it does not keep him from doing it.”



—Frank Howard Clark



Riverside Serenity Home sat several miles to the south of Stony Bay and was tucked off the road so that all one could see when passing was a corner of the main building and several cars on the edge of the parking lot. Lance vaguely recalled seeing it on his drives to and from the house during the buying process and the move. Several acres of manicured lawns rolled against one another, dotted here and there with strategically placed hardwoods. The building itself hid behind multilayered rows of towering pines that swayed in the early-morning wind.

An overcast sky greeted Lance that morning when he rose, the trip already a surety in his plans for the day. As he stepped from the Land Rover onto the paved parking lot before the nursing home, he appraised the clouds that hung just out of the pines’ reach.

The visitor parking area looked small to him; only three short rows were designated, and when he gazed at the building, now that it had come into full view, he thought he could see why there wasn’t any need for more spaces.

The word depressing, he decided, described the facility best, as he strode toward the double doors that were two dark outlines in the shadow of the structure. The building was a rough rectangle, and no one had made an effort over the years to dress up the outside walls, to make them seem more inviting, so stained concrete met his eyes as he examined its two stories. The windows were onyx squares that, upon closer inspection, revealed wire interweaving within their panes. There were a few smaller outbuildings set off to each side, not big enough to be living areas and not small enough to be storage sheds.

The door swung open easily as he stepped through an archway and into a small waiting room that ended in a counter protected by Plexiglas from the waist up. A mouse-like woman in a pale blue uniform sat behind the glass tapping at a keyboard. She looked away from her computer screen reluctantly as Lance approached, and eyed him warily.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yes, I wondered if an Annette Metzger still lived here.” Lance scrutinized his choice of words. Lived seemed a bit too friendly in the current atmosphere. Existed would have been a better choice. The nurse’s eyes narrowed, and he began to wonder if she would answer.

After a few seconds, she said, “Family or friend?”

Lance considered it for a moment before he replied. “Family.”

The nurse appraised him once more and then motioned with one hand toward a swinging door next to the desk. Lance walked through the door, which opened up into a wide hallway lined with speckled white tiles that were surprisingly clean under the harsh light of the fluorescents. Each side of the hall held five doors, and he could see the far end branched off in a T. A door directly to his right opened and a middle-aged nurse with piles of curly gray hair stepped out of what he assumed was the back of the office he had been looking into.

“Hello, here to see one of the residents?” she said, stepping toward him, her voice considerably higher when compared to her sturdy build.

“Yes, Annette Metzger,” he said.

“Ah, I see. Are you a relative?”

“Yes, I, uh …” Lance faltered. Uttering what he meant to say took actual concentration. “I’m her grandson.”

The nurse’s eyes couldn’t have gotten larger if they were pried open. Lance imagined her bringing her hands to the sides of her face and screaming as she backed away, but instead, she only raised her gray eyebrows and blinked a few times.

“Well, this is a surprise. She’s never had a visitor since I’ve been here. We’ll see if you can get her to talk.”

Without another word, the nurse spun on a flat-heeled shoe and marched away from him, down to the end of the hall. He followed, now noticing the smell that had eluded him near the front desk. Urine and something muskier hung in the air, and as he passed each room, he couldn’t help but peer into them. Several of the rooms were empty, but as they neared the corner and the nurse hung a hard right, he spotted an old man sitting at the window that looked out onto a courtyard, which sat secluded in the center of the building. Drool trailed in a slim line from the man’s chin to his lap, and when Lance looked down he saw that the man’s pants were soaked—whether from the saliva or another bodily fluid, he couldn’t tell.