And La Reina appealed to her precisely because of its quirky reputation. Her opinion of the medical establishment was not high, and here among the outcasts she found some original thinkers she could relate to. Her one disappointment had been in the lack of challenge in her cases. Until they brought in the boy from the woods.
Holly looked down at the pale boy now, wondering what it would take to communicate with him. In the two hours since he’d been brought in, the boy had not spoken. She had finally gotten the curious onlookers cleared out of the room and felt the boy was at least beginning to relax with her.
There was a sound at the door behind her. She turned, annoyed at the interruption.
Sheriff Gavin Ramsay stuck his head into the room.
“All right if I come in?”
“Could I stop you?”
“Sure. Just say go away.”
Holly felt the muscles tighten at the back of her neck. She knew her aversion to police was an unreasonable throwback to her campus protest days, but she couldn’t help it. “Come on in,” she said.
Ramsay nodded to her. “Thanks, Miss Lang. I’ll make this as short as I can.”
“It’s Doctor.”
“Oh, right. Dr. Lang. Sorry.”
She made herself relax. “That sounded pompous, didn’t it? Shall we try first names? I’m Holly.”
“Gavin,” he said.
Not a bad looking man, Holly decided, if you liked the macho type. Sort of a younger Marlboro Man. She had seen him around Pinyon and thought it was a pity that he had to be a policeman.
“How’s the kid?” he asked.
“Doing well enough.”
“Has he said anything yet?”
Holly looked quickly at the young patient. The green eyes regarded the sheriff warily.
“We’re just getting acquainted,” she said. “So far I’ve done all the talking.”
“I’d like to ask him a few questions.”
The boy seemed to shrink a little in the bed.
“Suppose we step out into the hall,” Holly said.
“Sure.”
She followed Ramsay out through the door and looked up at him when he turned. Holly was five-eight in her stocking feet, and well built. Not many men could make her feel small. Gavin Ramsay could, and she resented it.
“I wish you’d give me some warning before you barge into the room.”
“Sorry. The door was ajar.”
“Well… no harm done, I suppose.”
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
“You must understand it’s part of my job to keep my patient from being disturbed.”
“Fair enough,” Ramsay said, “but you’ve got your job and I’ve got mine.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“I’ve got a couple of hunters missing and a dead man downstairs in the pathology lab.”
“What has that to do with this boy?”
“I don’t know that there’s any connection, but I want to find out. From the looks of the kid when they brought him in, he was out in the woods for at least three days. That’s about how long our man downstairs has been a corpse.”
“You’re not suggesting that this boy has anything to do with it?”
Ramsay’s eyes flashed blue fire. “Why not, because he’s a minor? Last week a twelve-year-old in East Los Angeles set his mother on fire because she found his heroin stash. A seven-year-old girl in Beverly Hills drowned her baby brother in the swimming pool because he got too much attention. Two boys in Glendale hung a baby girl from a swing set. The boys were six. Want to hear more?”
“No, thank you. I’ll concede that there is no age limit on criminal behavior, but I won’t jump to the conclusion that this boy is guilty of anything.”
“Holly… Dr. Lang… all I want to do is talk to him.” Gavin raised his arms. “See, I didn’t even bring any handcuffs.”
“Well, he isn’t talking yet. He’s had a frightening experience, and it may take a while. Shouldn’t you be trying to find out who he is?”
“I should and I am. I’ve put his description out on the wire. So far he doesn’t fit any missing-boy report.” Gavin looked back over her shoulder into the room. “You will let me know if he says anything?”
“Certainly, Sheriff.”
He started to go, then turned back. “Is there any chance we can get back to using first names?”
She held a stern expression for a moment longer, then relaxed. “What the hell… See you, Gavin.”
“See you, Holly.”
The boy’s eyes followed her as she came back and sat in the chair next to the bed. She smiled at him, studying his face. The two deputies who brought him in had said there was something ‘weird’ in the way he looked. Probably a trick of twilight and their imaginations. Holly saw only a frightened boy of perhaps fourteen. High forehead, straight nose, firm mouth. The eyes were a deep, lustrous green. Certainly nothing there that could be considered ‘weird.’
“Getting sleepy?” she said.
The boy’s head rolled from side to side on the pillow.
A response. The first sign he had given that he understood. Holly kept her voice gentle. “I’ll just sit here for a while, then. If you feel like talking, fine. If not, that’s fine too.”
The boy’s eyes never left her. Holly thought she could see his body relax, just a little, under the hospital sheet and blanket. She picked up a magazine from the bedside table and pretended to read. She did not leave until she was sure the boy was asleep.
Preview of:
JAMES ROY DALEY’S ~ TERROR TOWN
~~~~ PROLOGUE: CLOVEN ROCK
The people that lived in Cloven Rock considered the town’s final Monday a beautiful one, like most of the days in the recent weeks. The sun was shining; the air was clean and warm. Flowers bloomed and birds sat among the branches singing songs only birds could understand. Dogs chased master’s Frisbees and people said hello to strangers, not to suggest that thousands of tourists roamed the beachfront or the area that passed as the downtown core. That wasn’t the case; there were only a few. If you asked one of the locals why things were this way, the answer would be simple: Cloven Rock was an inclusive town, an uncomplicated town, a town that didn’t encourage a vacationer crowd even though sightseers would have flocked to it religiously. Many residents thought the town was special and they were right. It was special. It wasn’t a small place trying to be a big place. It was a town without civic uncertainty.
The Yacht Club Swimming Pool, a Cloven Rock favorite, had a full house the day before the town was lost. They also had an open door policy; if you were respectful, courteous, and didn’t pee in the pool, you were welcome anytime. Also on that day, friends sailed the calm waters of Cloven Lake and children built sandcastles on Holbrook Beach. Kids played in Easton Park while the people on the large wooden deck at the Waterfront Café enjoyed the spectacular view. The post office closed early. An ice cream store called Tabby’s Goodies was doing good business and a mile and a half up the road the men and woman working at the Cloven Rock Docks fought for, and won, a fifty-cent raise. Spirits were high at the Docks, and the personnel were getting along just fine. It wasn’t surprising. Nearly half the workforce was related and the other half was considered family.