A few minutes later, Evan arrives.
“Where have you been?” I ask.
“What?”
“Why is nobody standing guard outside Donny Ray’s room?”
“Shift change.”
“You guys don’t cover the gap between them?”
“Normally, but we’re short one person. I got called in early, because Peters hasn’t shown up for work in two days.”
“What do you mean? Is he sick?”
Evan shakes his head. “Nobody knows. He didn’t answer his phone, and when we sent somebody by his house, the place was empty.”
“Empty, as in . . .”
“Everything. No furniture, no car . . . no Peters.”
I look at Evan for a good five seconds, then nod toward Donny Ray’s door. “It’s unlocked. This could have been a serious problem.”
Evan immediately inspects the door, but when he attempts to turn the knob, it won’t budge. He looks up at me.
I step forward and try it myself.
Locked.
“I swear the thing was unsecured just a few minutes ago.”
Evan scratches his head. “Could be something with the mechanism?”
I’m still staring at the door.
“I’ll radio for backup,” he says, “and try to figure out what happened with the lock.”
I explain the other patients’ strange behavior to Evan, then he enters Donny Ray’s room to check on him.
“Nothing suspicious with the patient that I can see,” he tells me after returning outside, then with cautious steps, proceeds up the hallway, looking carefully into the other rooms.
Evan comes back and says, “They all seem fine to me.”
I’m stunned and speechless.
“You’re clear to go inside if you want,” he says, reaching for his key ring.
Wary and watchful, I enter Donny Ray’s room.
Inside, I find him sitting up in bed. A pair of fluorescent tubes hovers overhead, bathing his face in blue, sulfurous light. I move toward him, observing that his restraints are now gone. In and of itself, that’s not unusual. We don’t keep patients bound unless they pose a threat to themselves or others. Apparently, he’s calmed down enough to warrant this, but with the lock to his door acting wonky, I’m not quite loving it.
I step closer and find more to bristle my nerves, because Donny Ray is clearly in a different state than yesterday. A far better one. His posture is firm, his hair combed neatly in place. Face fresh, skin more evenly toned. Judging by his much improved appearance and manner, it would also seem that whatever moved through Alpha Twelve missed this room—either that or it was no match for Donny Ray Smith.
Is he in some way connected to all this?
The thought is fleeting, but I consider him more closely.
“Is something wrong?” he asks in his southern twang.
“I feel like I should be asking you that question,” I say, still observing him, still trying to sort through my mixed-up impressions.
He shakes his head, appears confused.
“Donny Ray,” I say, standing just a few feet away from him now, “what’s going on with your door?”
“My what?”
“It was unlocked when I arrived.”
He gives the door a baffled glance. “I can’t tell you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I didn’t know it was unlocked,” he says.
I study his affect, trying to discern whether he’s telling the truth. “What about before I arrived?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Outside. On the floor. Did anything happen? A disturbance of some kind? Maybe something to upset the other patients?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t sound very sure about it.”
Donny Ray looks past me, face blank, eyes shooting back and forth like dancing blue flames. “I’m really not sure. I was dead asleep, Christopher.”
That sleep of death, Christopher.
A sharp and fiery sensation twists through me.
“But Nicholas was having bad dreams all night,” he offers rather quickly.
“Donny Ray, I never mentioned Nicholas. What made you think I was talking about him, specifically?”
“I heard him.” He shrugs. “Anyone could.”
Nicholas’ room is a good fifty feet from here. Would his mumbling whispers actually penetrate these thick concrete walls? My nod feels hesitant. Since I wasn’t here earlier, there’s no way to verify whether what he’s telling me is true.
Before I can press further, there is noise and motion through the window in Donny Ray’s door. Evan and some other members of our security staff are talking, and one of them is turning the knob to inspect it.
I get a little lost inside my head.
“Christopher?”
My attention jerks back to Donny Ray, but when I look at the bed, it’s empty. I blink a few times, then swing my gaze to the left. He’s now standing on the opposite side of this room. I didn’t see him get up, didn’t even hear or sense it.
His face reads like an empty page.
“You’ve lost something.” He holds up my pen.
I pat my shirt. The pocket is empty. I feel unhinged, unsure what’s going on.
“We’re not supposed to have these,” he tells me, as if I don’t already know that patients are forbidden from having sharp objects.
My fingers feel a little numb, a little cold, as I take the pen from him. Then I glance back at the window. Evan and the security officers are gone. I never saw or heard them leave.
“Thanks for clearing things up,” he says appreciatively. “It was very helpful.”
What is he talking about?
“Sure . . . ,” I say, angst juddering my response. I’ve got no idea what I’m agreeing to, but at this point, making him aware of my confusion doesn’t feel professional. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”
“Okay.” He smiles politely. “Careful on that road from now on. It sounds like a nasty one.”
Razor-edged fright torpedoes through me. “What are you talking about?”
He points at my forehead. “The car wreck.”
“How did you know about that?”
“You just told me.”