Firefly Cove Page 5

Asha went on. “His English carried a very distinct French-Canadian accent.”

  Dino said, “How could I have missed that? It’s mentioned by all of his therapists.”

  The administrator and the pediatrician exchanged a glance. “What are you suggesting?”

  Asha looked out over the auditorium filled with medical staff. “I have no idea.”

  CHAPTER 8

  After a time Lucius rose from his bed and inspected himself in the bathroom mirror. The image remained branded inside his brain. The man he saw looked remarkably like who he knew himself to be, and yet was also completely different. He touched the unshaven cheek with fingers that did not belong to him, and saw the flesh move in response. It was a handsome face, in many regards. The hair was longer than he cared for and somewhat unkempt. The skin was pallid, but perhaps that was due to the drugs he could still feel. He was also heavier by a good thirty or forty pounds. And the blue-gray eyes looked terrified. When he reached a point where he feared the questions would overwhelm him, Lucius staggered back to the bed.

  By the time the orderly brought his first meal, he had arrived at three basic conclusions. It was not much, but they formed a foundation to resolving all the other mysteries. What was more, they anchored him. They kept the fears partially at bay.

  He had to assume, first and foremost, he was alive. Impossible, but true nonetheless. Of course he might be caught in some bizarre paradox or cosmic mistake, or perhaps even purgatory. But evidence suggested otherwise. He breathed, he thought, he felt, he . . . lived.

  Second, he occupied the body of a suicide victim named Luke. He needed desperately to know more about this stranger. What was more, he needed to know when. The why could wait. He had spent his entire existence being unable to answer that one. Lucius corrected himself. His former existence.

  And third, unless he was very careful, the powers that ruled his small corner of this hospital were going to lock him up.

  A certain dark temptation lurked here. Lucius knew it would be easy to take shelter inside a padded room from this confusion.

  But Lucius was a fighter by nature. He had always made the most of what little had been his to claim.

  He stared at the sunlit window. The prospect of entering the world with all its menacing unknowns was terrifying. But over the clamor of doubts, one word resonated at the level of his bones. One name.

  If Jessica existed within this baffling realm, he had to find her.

  * * *

  When the orderly returned, Lucius was ready. But the aromas that rose from his meal tray assaulted him so powerfully, he almost forgot his strategy. “What is that?”

  “Meat loaf and glazed carrots. I know, it ain’t much. But we’ve both had worse, right?”

  He had not even realized how hungry he was until that moment. Lucius had known little of food’s fragrance and none of its taste since his childhood illnesses. Even so, he did his best to ignore the tray. The orderly was the one who had addressed him earlier. The opportunity was too good to pass up. “Am I permitted to use the phone?”

  “I’ll have to check on that one.”

  “And something else.”

  The orderly was confident enough in his strength to smile briefly. “Don’t go pushing your luck, man.”

  “Is there any chance you might bring me a phone book?”

  “Man, I doubt there’s one anywhere in this place. Besides, what do you need one for? Ordering a pizza’s definitely out. You didn’t have any ID on you when they brought you in, much less cash.”

  “A phone then. Please. This is important.”

  “Lemme have a word with the duty nurse. You eat up.”

  Lucius could not control the tremble to his hand. He was so hungry, his entire body felt hollow. The first attempt to lift the fork spilled everything off. He used his left hand to pile on the carrots, then kept the fingers in place and crammed the food into his mouth. He groaned out loud. The vegetables had been boiled until they were almost mash. The gravy was slightly congealed. The two slices of processed meat were only a degree or so off cold.

  He had never imagined anything could bring such pleasure. He finished his plate and started on a cup of Jell-O with fruit, astonished over how each squishy bite exploded into flavors. The power of tasting what he ate was so exquisite, his eyes filmed over.

  When the orderly came back, he surveyed the empty plates. “You done good, man.”

  “May I ask your name?”

  “Jorge.”

  “Thank you, Jorge. If you have an extra meal, could I perhaps trouble you for seconds?”

  Jorge’s dark eyes showed a grim wisdom. “Being that close to the final door changes things, I expect.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I’ll check on another tray. And the nurse says only the docs can make a decision on the phone call.”

  “But . . .”

  “No good arguing, man. Least, not with me. My advice is, show the doc you’re done with, you know, trying to off yourself. Give them what they want, maybe they’ll let you connect with the outside world.” He lifted the tray. “Lemme go see if there’s anything left on the trolley.”

  But when Jorge returned, Lucius told him, “I will give you a hundred dollars for that phone call.”

  Jorge set down the tray. “I already told you, man. You don’t have a dime to your name.”

  “Not with me. But out there. They can’t keep me here forever.”

  “You’d be surprised.” But Jorge’s movements were slowed by the prospect. “Hundred won’t do it. Maybe five.”

  “For five hundred dollars I could buy a car!”

  “Not any car I’d want to be seen in. And keep your voice down.”

  “All right, Jorge. Five hundred.”

  “How do I know you’re good for it?”

  “I am a man of my word.” Lucius reached out a stranger’s hand. “Five hundred dollars for the phone book and one call.”

  “No phone book, no way. Even if there was one around here somewhere, I can’t let the nurses know what’s going down.” He must have seen Lucius’s dismay, for he said, “Who’s so important you got to call now?”

  “I want to hire an attorney.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” This time Jorge revealed a single gold molar. “I might be able to help you out on that score.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Asha and Dino did not emerge from the peer review until after two. She had not had anything to eat or drink since her predawn coffee, so they stopped by the hospital cafeteria. She used the wall phone to check on Luke Benoit. Dino waited until they were seated at a table by themselves to ask, “Anything?”

  “Benoit ate two complete meals. He remains calm. The shift has changed, and one of the incoming orderlies has called in sick. The duty nurse wants to withdraw the constant monitoring of our patient. She says the staff is needed elsewhere and she’ll check on Luke when she has time.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I don’t have the authority to object,” Asha reminded him. “But even if I did, I didn’t see a reason to do so.”

  “I agree.” Dino smiled “By the way, you handled the review like a seasoned pro.”

  Asha waited to respond until she finished her salad and peeled an orange. Dino used the time to check his messages and shoot off a half-dozen e-mails. Their relationship had undergone a subtle shift, she knew. She was no longer merely a student, nor he a mentor. They were colleagues. Asha ate a slice of orange, another, and waited until Dino stopped texting and set his phone aside. Then she said, “You’ve told me a dozen times that part of being a good clinician is learning how to correctly interpret the unspoken.”

  “Hundreds of times,” Dino agreed.

  “Everything we’re observing about Luke Benoit leads me to one conclusion.” She took a breath and said, “We’re not dealing with the same man.”

  It was a thoroughly unprofessional way of describing her patient. With more time she would find some way
to couch it in clinical terms. But that was precisely how she felt.

  But all Dino said was “The accent.”

  “That and everything else. Up until this morning Luke’s behavior has maintained an established pattern that has not changed through four therapists. He uses his counseling sessions as a dumping ground. He lashes out at fate, events, other people. Everything that happens in his life is someone or something else’s fault. Blame is his shield. It is his method of coping. Every time a therapist has tried to probe beyond his venting, or tries to have him accept at least partial responsibility, he stops therapy.”

  Dino leaned back and crossed his arms. The cafeteria’s muted din faded into insignificance. “How did you get through to him?”

  “I took a different course. I agreed with him that life has been horribly unfair. I tried to show him I care. And I do. Truly. Maybe too much.” Asha gave Dino a chance to warn, object, something. When he remained silent, she continued. “I tried to show him that our sessions were his haven from life. Here he was protected, sheltered. He could reveal the bruised and battered little boy. Come to know himself a little better. In utter safety. Without risk of being judged or found wanting.”

  She feared she had said too much. It was a risk, revealing her offbeat strategy to the man responsible for her professional career. But Dino merely nodded and said, “Tell me about the differences you detect in him.”

  “Take what the nurse just reported about Luke devouring two meals. Luke Benoit is a fast-food addict. He loathes most vegetables. And now he finishes everything on his hospital tray and asks for another?” Asha thought back to the moment her patient had emerged from the bathroom. “The Luke we met in there is different. He is hiding something. And doing so with a remarkable level of self-control.”

  Dino’s phone buzzed. He picked it up, studied the readout, and said, “Give me a moment.”

  As he texted, Asha resumed her internal struggle. Only now did she truly feel the review’s aftereffects. The panel had not found her at fault in any way. There had been almost no response from the doctors in the audience. The patient had survived. Proper protocol had been followed. The issue of confinement was not a matter for the peer review to decide. California’s laws on confining mental patients were the nation’s strictest. The doctors were only too happy to leave that in her and Dino’s hands.

  Dino set down his phone. “Do we hold Benoit for observation?”

  Asha nodded. That was the issue. She was immensely glad she did not possess the authority to make that decision. Because she had no idea what was best. When she realized Dino was going to wait as long as required for her response, she replied, “I’m conflicted.”

  Dino might as well have been reading from the text. “Patients may only be confined if they pose a risk to themselves or the general public. We are talking about an individual who has attempted suicide on three different occasions. We have grounds. But is this truly in the patient’s best interests? I’m inclined to say yes.”

  Asha wanted to object. She felt a real aversion to confining Luke against his will. And yet there was every possible textbook reason for doing so. She followed Dino from the cafeteria, wishing there were some way to phrase her objections in clinical terms. Not liking the idea simply wasn’t good enough.

  Plus, there was the distinct possibility that Dino was right.

  Despite the issues that swirled about them, Asha found a distinct pleasure in simply walking the hospital corridor alongside Dino. Most of the female staff who passed eyed him, then glanced at her. Envy, curiosity, an occasional knowing smirk. Not even the argument she was having with herself could erase that spice.

  When they arrived at the hall, Dino greeted the duty nurse and asked, “Anything to report with Benoit?”

  “He’s been the perfect little lamb since I came on,” she replied. “I checked on him four times. Then his visitor showed up.”

  Dino frowned. “I distinctly recall issuing a ‘no visitors’ policy for this patient.”

  “I saw it in the records. But it didn’t make any difference.”

  “What are you saying?”

  She pointed at Benoit’s door. “The patient’s lawyer is in there.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Asha could see the news of a lawyer’s presence rocked her boss. And she understood why. It threatened Dino’s authority. His decisions were now subject to legal challenge. What was worse, as soon as the hospital administration heard, they would insert an attorney of their own.

  “Who authorized the patient to make a phone call?” Dino demanded.

  The nurse bridled. She was a senior warhorse, well accustomed to holding her ground in hospital politics. “I certainly didn’t. And to answer your next question, the room does not have a phone.”

  “Then it must have been one of the orderlies,” Dino decided. “Where are they?”

  “The only ones your patient had contact with have gone off duty.”

  Dino’s scowl creased his features from neck to hairline. The nurse responded by rising to her feet. Two seasoned veterans ready for battle.

  “Dino.” Asha gripped his arm and pulled him back a step.

  He continued to address the nurse. “I need the names and contact numbers for all orderlies who were on duty—”

  Asha broke in with, “It’s happened. It’s over and done. It’s too late to be talking to the orderlies or anyone else.” Asha gave him a chance to object, then said, “We’re going about this all wrong. We need to rethink our strategy.”

  Dino turned slowly. The ponderous motion of a man withdrawing from an unlit fuse.

  “We’re treating Benoit as a victim. Like we know him. Like we understand.” Talking it out helped solidify Asha’s swirling thoughts. Gradually her idea took concrete form. “Our assumptions are clearly wrong. We need to accept that we have no idea who we’re dealing with.”

  There were a hundred reasons for Dino to shoot her down. Starting with how the student was lecturing the professor. In public. In a potential crisis situation. Not to mention how she was leaping to conclusions based on a meager few moments of observation.

  Instead, Dino merely nodded once and said, “Benoit is your patient. You take the lead.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Asha knocked on Luke’s door. When there was no response, she waited for a time, then knocked again. When a voice finally spoke from within, Asha opened the door a fraction and asked, “May we come in?”

  Clearly, Luke and the man seated on the bed’s opposite side were expecting a confrontation, not a request. Asha’s polite approach caught them off guard. As she had expected.

  Finally Luke turned to the man and nodded. Only then did the newcomer say, “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” There was only one other chair. Asha indicated that Dino should sit down, while she remained standing just inside the closed door. “My name is Asha Meisel. I am the patient’s therapist.”

  “You have been his therapist up to this point,” the lawyer countered. “Your future role is yet to be determined.”

  “Thank you very much.” It was a distinctly Persian sort of response, using polite formality to mask any number of emotions. Inwardly Asha fed off the room’s tension. It clarified her vision to a remarkable degree. She felt as though she could parse each of her rapid heartbeats. Observe the patient and the man seated beside him down to the level of bones and secret thoughts. “May I ask your name?”

  “Sol Feinnes. I am the patient’s attorney of record.”

  She kept her gaze on Feinnes, but her real focus was on Luke. In her secret non-therapist thoughts, Asha had always considered Luke Benoit to have wasted a substantial portion of good looks. His face had formerly remained creased like an infant about ready to wail. He denied ever using controlled substances, but Asha had often smelled the treacly-sweet odor of marijuana or hash on his clothes. His eyes were usually red-rimmed and weepy. She had found it very easy to treat him as a wounded child hiding inside an adult’s body.
/>   No longer.

  Luke had the bed angled up as far as it would go, so his head was almost level with her own. He studied her with an intently focused gaze. Silent. Still as a forest animal. Cautious.

  In control.

  Asha continued to address the attorney. “Do you practice family law, Mr. Feinnes?”

  “No. I am a litigator. As your director knows, to his regret. I have successfully brought suit against this hospital on two previous occasions.”

  “May I ask why the patient feels your presence is necessary?”

  “To ensure my client is released. Now. Today.”

  “Of course. If you think that is best for our patient. Mr. Benoit is hereby released.”

  Behind her, Dino’s chair creaked loudly as he shifted his weight. Asha held her breath until she was certain her boss was not going to object.

  Feinnes was in his fifties, with thinning silver-gray hair and the air of an intelligent, thoughtful gentleman. He wore his gray pin-striped suit like a uniform of office. His voice was deeply resonant. Asha thought he would probably charm a jury with ease. He demanded, “My client is free to go?”

  “I just said that. We can complete the paperwork in a few hours. Perhaps less.” She watched the attorney and patient exchange another glance and took a distinct pleasure in knowing she had disarmed them both. “Am I permitted to address your client?”

  “I . . . We have no objections to a few questions. Within strict limits.”

  Asha bowed slightly from the waist, the act of a servant. Her demeanor remained utterly calm, which did nothing to ease Luke’s evident tension. The patient’s jaw muscles were so clenched he looked like he held a pair of walnuts in his cheeks. “Luke, why don’t you trust me?”

  The question caught both patient and attorney off guard. Luke struggled for a moment, then demanded, “Why should I?”

  “During our six sessions together, have I ever lied to you? Have I ever done anything that did not keep your best interests at the forefront?”

  He hesitated, then asked, “Were you going to lock me up?”