Something Bad, page 18
After a long pause, Doc took a deep breath and blew it out. “Misty, I’ve been meaning to tell you. My oldest brother’s daughter has just finished a nursing program up north, and she’s looking for a job. I’ve been needing someone with a little more formal training, so I’m going to take her on at the clinic. I’m really sorry, but I can’t afford to pay you both. I’m going to have to let you go. I can give you two weeks to find something else and I’ll give you some severance pay.”
Misty peered at Doc out of the corners of her eyes. “You crazy? I thought you loved me. We’ve been together for nearly a year. I thought we were going to settle down.” Fluids ran tributaries across the lower part of her face.
The situation required a little brutality, he thought. “There’s a difference between love and sex. You’re good at the second, but that doesn’t mean any love has developed between us.”
Misty turned her head toward Doc so fast fluids flew from her face to the back of the seat. “You bastard. You’re just like all the others. You’re fine when you’re getting what you want, but if I want something back, then it’s over. You bastard.” Her head collapsed into her hands and she bawled.
“I’m sorry, Misty, but we discussed this when we first started. I wasn’t in the market for a serious relationship then, and I’m not now.” He almost said there are lots of men out there who’d love to have her as a partner, but he figured most of them had already.
Misty peeked above her hands. “I think I’m pregnant.”
“I doubt that very much, Misty. When we get back to the clinic, I’ll give you a test to make sure.” He anticipated this move, so before he initiated his physical liaison with her, he personally checked his own sperm count. It hadn’t changed for the better—if anything, it was worse than before. He thought not telling her about his physical problem was unethical, but so was porking her in the clinic lab almost every day. Anyway, he assumed she would be the last person to get upset about it, so he enjoyed the ride and endured the self-disappointment of his ethical slide.
CHAPTER
39
GABE AWAKENED WHEN the first light broke the top of the dashboard. He looked at his watch—six-thirty. The patients would be having breakfast and getting ready for the day, and it made him feel his hunger, and the need to clean up.
A few off-ramps back on the freeway, he’d seen a billboard for a restaurant called “McDonald’s.” He’d seen advertisements for the chain on the television, and he’d heard they even had one up in Calhoun Township, so he decided to eat there and clean up in their restroom. Hopefully, it wasn’t one of those fancy places where everyone had to wear a nice clothes.
The restaurant looked like a cartoon set, with brightly colored chairs and tables. Everything was made of rounded plastic. Cartoon characters adorned the wall displays. He seated himself at a table near the door and sat there drumming his fingers. There wasn’t a waitress in sight. After a few minutes a customer walked up to the counter and placed an order, then within a minute or so, he walked away with a full tray of food. As Gabe stood, he thought of a school cafeteria.
The sandwich was wrapped in paper, the orange juice in a paper cup with a plastic lid. He wondered who thought of putting eggs in a sandwich, with cheese and ham, on some kind of biscuit. But it was really good. Another potential addition to Teddy’s menu back home?
Gabe pushed through the front doors of the hospital as the clock approached eight o’clock. Sunlight beamed through the windows creating alternating shafts of bright and dim light. He tiptoed to the reception desk. The large McDonald’s-like counter, in one of the dim areas, was spot-lighted by two large can lights in the ceiling.
“Can I visit a patient?”
“Which patient would you like to see?” The receptionist was an older woman in a white uniform, grossly overweight, with a kind smile and a patient attitude. The hospital was exceptionally clean, but it looked like only minimal maintenance had been done over the last several years.
“I’d like to see Father Costello, please.”
The woman’s head snapped up at the mention of the name. “He’s not one to have visitors. Are you from the church? Do you have credentials?”
Gabe was stumped. But he hadn’t come all this way to be turned back at the reception desk. Tell a half-truth, he thought. Sometimes telling the full truth was as bad as telling an out-and-out lie, but getting half of it right frequently worked like a greased cake pan.
“No, Ma’am. I know all about what happened to the Father. I know about his condition and all. I come from the town where he had his problem—Boyston. If nothing else, it might help him a bit to hear what’s come of all of the people there who he used to preach to. Couldn’t do any harm, as I see it. Worst could happen, I tell him, and he just stares. If I were in his place, it’d help me to hear. He really cared for us back then.”
The receptionist smiled and walked behind a glass wall. She dialed a phone and engaged in a short conversation. Gabe could see that it was neither agitated nor a one-way “yes, sir-no, sir” interaction.
The receptionist waddled back to the counter. “Doctor Lawrence thinks a visit from you might do Father Costello some good. The patients are finishing their breakfast. Then they have to shower and get dressed. Can you come back in an hour?”
“Okay if I wait over there?” He pointed at the small waiting area. “I got nowhere else to go.”
“Of course. Here.” She handed him a magazine.
The government-issue metal-framed chairs had smooth, green fake-leather seat and back cushions. They were as uncomfortable as they looked. Positioned in a semi-circle under a large window, the light was operating room intense.
Gabe thumbed through the magazine, scanning the pictures—nearly all of smiling men and women. He folded it closed. “People” the cover said in bold white letters. Thumbing through again, he paused at a familiar photo. A woman from one of his favorite TV shows smiled at him. From the caption, her seven-month marriage had just broken up. Why was she smiling?
“Sorry for the delay,” the receptionist said, her voice skipping across the room on the slick linoleum. “One of the patients had a little accident and we had to put everyone in their rooms for a while. You can go see Father Costello now. You don’t have to worry about being interrupted. All the others will be locked in until we find out where they got the videos. Father Costello is in the Day Room. Number 353. Take the elevator to the third floor and turn right.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gabe said with a smile. He laid the magazine on the counter like it was a bible.
The only inhabitant in the Day Room was seated in another government-issue chair placed close to one of several windows that ran along the east wall of the room. The man stared out the window like he was in a trance. A table to his right held a few scattered magazines.
Gabe approached the table and looked out the window, over Father Costello’s shoulder. It overlooked the parking lot. He took a step closer. From the angle of this window, the entire truck seat, where he had slept, was visible.
He walked around to the opposite side of the table and pulled up a chair. Although the priest was seated, he could tell he was a short man, in his fifties, with white temples blending into jet-black hair peppered with random strands of gray. Small in stature but in good physical shape, he sat erect with his hands folded in his lap. His feet were crossed at the ankles but both were nearly flat on the floor. The traditional suit with collar was impeccably neat and pressed.
Gabe watched him in silence. Not a single subtle movement—even an eye blink.
He leaned over the table. “Father Costello? My name’s Gabe Petersen. We knew each other back in Boyston. I was a young man back then, so you probably don’t remember me. You remember Boyston?”
The priest stared out of the window.
“Anyhow, some strange things have been happening back there. They remind me of things that happened back when you had your problem. I’m wondering if you could give me some information about what was going on back then.”
Nothing.
Gabe leaned farther forward so his chest was on the table. “There’s this little man, named Thibideaux. Ever heard of him? He’s been doing some strange things—making the earth move, making lightning, throwing fireballs. Ring a bell?”
No change in the priest’s expression.
Gabe leaned back. “Pardon me, Father. I’ll be right back.”
He took the elevator to the first floor and approached the reception desk. “Can I borrow a pencil and paper?”
The receptionist flashed a knowing smile. “Can’t get through to him, can you?”
“Not yet, Ma’am. Still working on it, though.” He hurried from the desk. As he entered the elevator, the receptionist’s voice rang a sarcastic tone: “Good luck.”
Gabe sat down across from Father Costello without saying a word and drew on the paper. Finished, he pushed the paper across the table. “Look familiar?”
Father Costello stared out of the window.
Gabe grabbed the paper and walked around the table. He held the paper between the Father’s face and the window and raised his voice. “Look familiar?”
Father Costello’s expression went from a blank stare to a slight squint. Then his eyes came alive and focused on the paper.
Gabe had drawn a face with small features, including arching eyebrows and a mouth that was straight. Thick lines turned the mouth upward at the corners.
Father Costello blinked twice and hissed a single hoarse word. “Hughes.” He grabbed the paper and slammed it down on the table. “Hughes!” His head swung toward Gabe. He looked scared.
Gabe hurried around the table and sat down. He felt the priest’s eyes on him the whole way.
Father Costello spoke in a whiskey-and-cigarettes baritone. “What are you here for? Haven’t you people done enough to me already?”
Gabe put his hand up in a stop motion. “Whoa there, Father. I’m not in with Thibideaux, or Hughes, as you call him. I’m here because of things he’s doing to people back in Boyston. I need to find out what he’s up to. By the way, my name’s Gabe Petersen.”
The priest turned his head slightly and frowned, scanning Gabe from top to bottom. “My daughter’s not really dead. She’s living somewhere on the West coast. You can try, but you’ll never get out of me where she is.”
“The heck you talking about, Father? You got a daughter? I thought you priests weren’t supposed to do that kind of stuff.”
Father Costello relaxed a little.
Gabe tried to do the same, but he was spooked, like he was talking to a ghost.
“Father, I ain’t so interested in what’s happened to you unless it has something to do with how we can stop Thibideaux. Hughes. I think he’s fixing to do something bad out our way, but I don’t know what it is. Can you help?”
A worried look flushed the priest’s face as his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. “Is anyone pregnant in Boyston?”
Gabe frowned. “Yeah. A woman named Miz Murtry.”
The priest lowered his hands and placed the palms flat on the table. “Is the baby’s father around?”
“Naw. He took off as soon as he got the news. Hasn’t been seen since. What’s that got to do with the price of apples?”
“When is she due?” A deep crease divided the priest’s forehead down to the bridge of his nose.
“In about a week or so. You want a birth announcement? Sorry, Father. I don’t see what this has to do with my problem.”
Father Costello leaned back and let out a loud sigh. The crease in his forehead disappeared. “Hughes wants her baby.”
Gabe jerked back in the chair. “He wants her baby? What for?” He leaned across the table.
Father Costello froze. It looked like he was trying to move his lips, but nothing came out.
“Father?”
“What year is this?”
“Two thousand and seven.” Gabe drummed his fingers once on the table.
The priest drew a deep breath and held it like he was winding up for something big. “About twenty-five years ago I came across a composition book that belonged to Hughes. It contained notes on his training from when he was a child. It also explained how his organization worked, from top to bottom.”
“Organization? What kind of organization?” Gabe rubbed his forehead. “I thought he worked as a land speculator.”
“Listen to me. Hughes found out I had the book. I tried to hide it in a Bible, but he made it burst into flames right in the Bible. But I was smart. A few days before that happened, I copied a lot of the information. Anyway, his organization constantly requires new recruits. They get them as babies from people like this friend of yours.”
“There are other babies in Boyston. Why Miz Murtry’s?”
Father Costello leaned forward and massaged his temples with the thumb and fingers of his right hand. “I just can’t remember the details. It was a long time ago. Frankly, it’s a time I’d like to forget. I’d give my life just to forget, but that’s a mortal sin. That’s why I’m here and why I have to withdraw from everyone and everything. From myself.”
Get right to it, Gabe thought. “So how can I stop Thibideaux from taking Miz Murtry’s baby? I got special feelings for her.”
“I’m sorry, Gabe, but I don’t have any idea. I just can’t remember the details of his organization. I wanted to go through it to see if there was any way to stop him back then, but I never got the chance. Without that information, and a good understanding of his organization, it would be hopeless. I think I remember something in the notes, though.”
Gabe sat upright. “You said you made copies? Where did you put them?”
Father Costello looked into Gabe’s eyes, through them. “I hid them in the rectory in Boyston, but I’m sure it’s been torn down by now, along with the church, after what I did.”
“No.” Gabe slapped his hand on the desk. “It’s still there. Both buildings are, but Thibideaux’s living in the rectory. Where’d you hide them?”
A slight smile seemed to elevate Father Costello’s cheeks. “I put the papers in an old family Bible, the same one that held the original notes when he burned them. I hid the Bible in the bathroom. The mirrored cabinet on the wall over the sink can be lifted out. It’s heavy, but you could handle it. I put the Bible in the wall behind the cabinet. If you could bring it here, I could explain my notes. Maybe something in there would help. You say Thibideaux lives in the rectory?” His grin faded to a frown.
“Yeah. He don’t leave very often. And he does strange things. Some families have been killed already.”
Father Costello slumped. “Then I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. He’ll find a way to kill you, too.”
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t think so. He had a chance once, when I was snooping. He shook me up pretty good, but he didn’t kill me.”
“He must need you for something. Do you know what that might be?”
Gabe shrugged. “No clue, Father.”
“Well, it gives you a chance, anyway. It looks like you have a choice to make. You can go back to Boyston and try to do something to stop Thibideaux or you can try to get the Bible and bring it back here so we can go over the notes. I’d love to get the best of him again, but I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger. That will have to be your decision alone.” He looked at the table and tapped a foot on the floor. “Is your friend going to have her child baptized?”
“She talks about it all the time.”
His eyes defocused. “Time will be getting critical, then.”
Gabe leaned forward again. “What does that got to do with all this?”
The priest appeared to be physically fading. “He takes the babies at baptisms, but I can’t go into that now, mostly because I can’t remember the details. One thing, though. If you decide to get the notes, it would be best if you didn’t open the Bible until you get here. Don’t expose the contents to anyone. Not even your family. You never know when Hughes is watching. He could torch the notes, too, and that would be the end of it. You understand all this?”
“No, but I understand what you want me to do. What are you going to do now?”
The priest sighed. “I have to go back to my personal prison. It’s my penance for what I’ve done.”
“While you’re in there, can you think about his situation?”
Father Costello smiled. “No. I think about one thing, over and over again. And that’s what I did. It’s my personal hell and I have to live out the rest of my natural life in that hell if my soul will have any chance of being saved after the death of my body.”
Gabe didn’t know what to say, so he became practical. “So how do I get through to you if you go back inside?”
“Just do what you did today.” He pushed the piece of paper across the table. “Save this picture. Put it in front of my face. Hopefully I’ll see it, like today.”
Father Costello straightened in his chair, put his hands in his lap, and crossed his legs at the ankles. He turned to look out of the window.
“Father? Do you remember a young Lutheran boy who would come into your church to confess his sins in the inhouse on Sunday mornings?”
Father Costello didn’t answer. His eyes defocused, aimed out the window. Gabe stood up and turned to leave, but then he stopped. He looked around at Father Costello. Tears welled in the priest’s eyes, then rolled down his cheeks.
CHAPTER
40
THIBIDEAUX FIDGETED IN his chair. He wanted to help the birth of Deena Lee’s child along, so he was trying to capitalize on her headache situation by causing the barometric pressure to vacillate wildly. It had little effect. But that was the best he could do.
With all of his powers, he wasn’t allowed to bring harm directly to anyone. The Organization’s training was clear on that point. If he directly caused the death or discomfort of a citizen, by either using his powers or by using traditional physical force, he could be terminated on the spot.
