The Blessed - By Tonya Hurley Page 0,71
reaching his hand across it to Jesse. “Thank you for coming. I know it couldn’t have been easy to get here.”
Jesse took hold of it only briefly, not wanting to catch any crazy bugs that might be floating around.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “On the news they were saying even crime has hit record lows, there are so few people on the streets. Looks like they keep you pretty busy around here though.”
“Yes,” the doctor said, dismissing the teen’s insensitivity. “Very busy. Mental illness is a silent epidemic, one that doesn’t discriminate or stop for storms.”
“Not even for kids or killers,” Jesse said, still disturbed by what he’d seen in the hallway.
“You are observant, as a person in your line of work should be,” Frey complimented. “The boy, Jude, is prone to sudden violent outbursts. He comes and goes. We monitor him mostly as an outpatient.”
“He didn’t look violent,” Jesse noted.
“It starts young,” Frey advised. “Children. Teenagers. Always best to nip it in the bud when you can. Looks can be deceiving, as the saying goes.”
“Nothing deceiving about the way Sicarius looks,” Jesse parried.
“Oh, he’s harmless as long as he’s being treated, and he’s quite restricted as you saw,” Frey responded. “I keep him very close by.”
Harmless. That wasn’t the first thought that came to Jesse’s mind, but Frey was the doctor, a very respected one he’d heard, and he should know best. Besides, the Perpetual Help Psych Ward treatment program was not the reason for his visit. “Why am I here, Doctor?”
“As I mentioned, your friend Lucy,” Frey began.
“I hope you didn’t ask me here to tell me she’s a lunatic,” Jesse warned. “First of all, I know that. Second, I’m the only one who can say it.”
“Loyalty is an admirable trait,” Frey said. “I’m sure it’s mutual.”
Jesse was silent.
“As I was saying,” Frey continued. “You say your friend is missing.”
“A bouncer at the nightclub where I last saw her found her phone in the street. She’s not at home and no one we know has seen her. I’m hoping it’s just the storm, but . . . ”
“But you have a bad feeling,” Frey said, completing his thought. “You have good instincts. No wonder you are so successful.”
Flattery. Something to which Jesse was quite susceptible.
“Yes,” Jesse agreed. “But this isn’t the missing persons bureau, so what has that got to do with you?”
“I think I may know what happened to her.”
The doctor reached calmly behind him for a set of files and set them down. He flipped to a small stack of photos and began to explain. Jesse was listening.
“There was a patient here. A young man named Sebastian. A very sick young man.”
Jesse casually examined the picture. It was of a guy, about his age. He was striking, magnetic, with sharp features, deep-set eyes, and faraway gaze. Jesse was surprised he hadn’t seen him around but from what the doctor said, Sebastian had other priorities. It was a shame, Jesse thought. A guy with his looks and presence could go places with the right people behind him. But even in the photo, it was clear to Jesse that this guy was somewhere else entirely in his mind.
“This is a nuthouse, Doctor. Isn’t everyone here very sick?”
“Not like him.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“He has certain ideations,” Frey explained. “I won’t bore you with the clinical details, but he is quite dangerous.”
“To himself or to others?”
“Both.”
“This patient escaped from here the other night. We think he got out through the ER. He is still free.”
“Do you mind, Doctor?”
Jesse reached for his notepad. The one he normally used to chronicle the comings and goings of up-and-coming celebstitutes whose story might travel to the mainstream media and weekly rags. This was different.
“Please,” Frey said approvingly. “It was the same night that your friend came into the ER.”
“Are you saying she was involved in his disappearance somehow? Not likely. First of all, she’s much too selfish to help anybody.”
“No, I’m saying that he might be involved in hers. He didn’t just escape you see. A man is dead.”
Kidnapping. Murder. Insanity. This was front-page stuff, Jesse thought, as he felt the inside of his mouth dry up and his throat begin to close slightly. He was inexperienced in this kind of reporting, in fact, in any real reporting at all, and he was starting to feel he might be in over his head. “And you think he might have Lucy? Why?”
Frey pulled up Jesse’s own site and scrolled down to a BYTE bit from