Coop called as Darby was examining another patient file. Coop was at a Cambridge dermatologist's office who was the third largest supplier of Lycoprime.
'Nothing on Sam Dingle, but I found six male patients who use Lycoprime,' he said. 'The oldest is twenty-eight. Ten years ago, this guy's father was in massive debt and took out insurance policies on his family. The asshole lit the house on fire, tried to make it look like they were victims of arson. The whole house went up in flames, and when the fire department arrived, they managed to save this kid. His parents and four other siblings burned to death.' Sighing, he added, 'I think I need to find another profession.'
'What about a criminal record?'
'Drug offences,' Coop said. 'Kid's both a user and a dealer. The other five patients are clean. No criminal records.'
'Who's next on your list?'
'I was thinking of tackling Mass General's Burn Center.'
Massachusetts General Hospital was the second largest supplier of Lycoprime in New England.
'Head over,' Darby said. 'Depending on what time I finish up here, I'll either join you at Mass General or we'll head over together to Beth Israel.'
An hour later her phone rang again.
'I think you can scratch Frank Hayden off your list,' Neil Joseph said. 'I just got off the phone with the guy's mother. Hayden's been living in Montana for the past year. He's an auto mechanic.'
'Hold on.' Darby shuffled through her papers, found Hayden's pharmacy records. 'He refilled his Lycoprime prescription two months ago.'
'Yeah, I know. The mother says she goes to the hospital, picks it up and mails it out to him. He can't get his hands on it down there.'
'What about Derma?'
'She didn't mention it. I have people looking into Hayden just to be sure. Do you have any more names?'
'Not yet.'
The hum of the printer filled the room. It was after eight and the windows were dark.
Darby picked up the fresh stack of patient files and started reading. Please God, give me something.
77
Walter parked his car in the back lot of the Sleepy Time Motel on Route One. He never drove into the hospital campus. Security trucks patrolled the area day and night. Walking through the woods behind the motel was long and hard, especially in the snow, but he always made the journey because he never wanted to do anything to put his Blessed Mother at risk.
The access tunnel was on the south side of the Sinclair campus, an ancient water duct built sometime after the turn of the twentieth century. Walter reached it after a long hike up a steep, snow-covered hill.
When the hospital officially closed in 1983, the security staff in charge of monitoring the property installed a metal gate with a lock across the tunnel's opening. Walter came back with a pair of bolt-cutters and a lock of his own – the same make, model and size. Security never found out about the replacement lock because they never came out this way.
Walter shook the snow off his boots. He turned on his flashlight and unlocked the gate.
During his stay at Sinclair, Walter had become very well acquainted with the hospital. Danvers City Hall had a copy of the original architectural blueprints on file. For a cost of only twenty dollars, they printed out the several colour pages detailing each floor.
The problem was the amount of decay and ruin. Many of the basement hallways had collapsed. It had taken Walter several weeks to chart the best route to the chapel.
As he walked down the tunnel, his thoughts drifted back in time to his stay at Sinclair, the nights he had spent alone inside his room rocking back and forth on his bed, sweating, the medicine burning inside his veins. He would look to his drawings of the Blessed Mother holding his hand and sometimes the pain became manageable. Sometimes Nurse Jenny took him to the chapel.
It was during his first visit to the chapel that Mary revealed herself to him.
Mary's dead son, the saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, was sprawled across her lap. Mary's sorrowful expression pierced Walter's heart. He felt the weight of Mary's unbearable loss.
Kneeling, Walter closed his eyes and prayed to his mother.
I know I wasn't a good boy. You were good to me and I know you did the best you could. I forgive you. I love you, Momma.
A new voice spoke to him: Your mother is safe. She's here with me in heaven.
Walter opened his eyes. Mary, the Blessed Mother of God, was looking directly at him.
I know how much you love your mother, Walter. She wants me to look after you. Come here.
The Blessed Mother stood. Jesus tumbled from her lap, dropping to the floor, and Mary stood there in her flowing blue and white robes, arms wide open, ready to accept him, to bring him closer to the secret world held inside the red-painted heart glowing in the centre of her chest.
There's no reason to be afraid. I love you so much. Come here and let me hold you.
Walter obeyed the Blessed Mother. He left the pew and went to Mary and she held him in her arms.
You're a brave boy. I'm very proud of you.
Surrounded by Mary's love, Walter cried.
You'll never be alone, Mary said, kissing the top of his head. I'll always be with you. I love you so much.
Walter came back to the chapel and visited Mary often. When they were alone, she would reveal herself to him. The crippling loneliness, the pain, fear, isolation and loss – it vanished every time Mary held him in her arms.
In time, Mary shared all of her secrets. They had many wonderful conversations. When the hospital closed, Walter found a way back to his Blessed Mother.
Walter walked through the abandoned hallways of paint-chipped walls. He didn't like the dark but he wasn't scared. Mary was close; he couldn't hear her voice yet but he could feel her love stirring inside his heart.
He put the flashlight in his back pocket and climbed the rusted ladder bolted to the wall. When he reached the top, he ran through the cold hallways. He was almost in tears when he slipped through the final door and into the last hallway.
Mary's love swelling inside him, Walter picked up the wooden ladder and walked carefully over the debris to a hole in the floor. He slid the ladder through, and when he set foot on the gravelly bottom, he pushed open the door and moved inside the chapel. He grabbed his flashlight.
His Blessed Mother stood at the end of the aisle. Her expression of eternal sorrow disappeared, turning into a smile when she saw him.
Walter, you came.
Sweet relief flooded through him. His legs buckled. He grabbed the edge of a pew to keep from falling.
I'm so glad you're here. I missed you.
'I missed you.' His eyes were burning, wet.
Come talk to me about Hannah.
Walter stumbled down the aisle. He couldn't hold his Blessed Mother's love any longer. It was too strong, too powerful. He dropped to his knees, weeping. He closed his eyes.
Hail Mary, full of Grace, I am with thee…
Mary screamed. Walter blinked, and through his tears saw a bright light aimed at him. Walter raised his hands.
'Down on your stomach and put your hands behind your head.'
The voice came from the man holding a flashlight and moving up the aisle fast – a short, wide man wearing a knit hat. He was holding a gun.
Walter looked over the man's shoulder, at Mary standing tall, her face twisted in anger.
Don't let him take you away, Walter. The doctors will pump you full of those awful chemicals and you won't be able to hear me and they'll take you away and you won't be able to see me.
The man with the gun spoke into a walkie-talkie pinned to his jacket. 'Brian, it's Paul, I need backup.' Then to Walter: 'Lie down on your stomach and put your hands behind your head.'
Walter felt his mother's love bleeding away. The man with the gun was going to take him to a hospital room and the doctors would pump him full of the medicine and he would never see Mary again and without his Blessed Mother he would be lost in limbo for eternity – he would die without her.