Sleeper Page 11

  “Who is he?”

  “Mister Passayunk. Or that’s what he wanted us to call him,” she said. “He controlled who we would go with, he broke in the new…”

  I rubbed a hand over her back. “It’s okay. Did you remember all of this all along, or is it coming back to you now?”

  “Pieces, here and there. Some’s been with me, some I’m remembering.” She looked down at her shoes. “The ones who wanted the drugs were always the cruel ones. They were the ones who could really hurt you. I’m not stupid or naïve—I know what men like. I was more than happy to lay there and let them pretend I was whatever they wanted.”

  “So Mister Passayunk…”

  “He liked me. A lot. Said I had a pretty cunt that brought a lot of money in. He liked to used me too. He liked me when I was brought back from a client.”

  I put my hand on hers. “What do you remember about him, Ellie. He’s out there, and he’s hurting a lot of little girls right now, and you can help us find him.”

  “There was nothing special about him. Brown hair. Brown eyes. No tattoos. He looks like a thousand other white guys walking down the street. He wasn’t short or tall. There was nothing…” She wrapped her arms around her and rocked lightly. “There was nothing.”

  My hand rubbed her back. “Deep breath, Ellie. Deep breaths, slow and calm.”

  She calmed a bit. “He had dead eyes.” Her brow wrinkled after she said that. “No. That’s not right. His eyes weren’t dead, they were soulless. There was no humanity there. There was nothing to show he’d ever cared about anything but sex and making money off sex.”

  I nodded, understanding. I’d seen those eyes. There weren’t shark’s eyes, like Quint described in Jaws, because there was depth to them—but the depth was a window to the pits of hell.

  “God, they’re never going to catch him, are they?”

  “No, Ellie, we’re going to catch him I swear.” I glanced at the observation window, and back at her. “Do you remember anyone or anything else?”

  “I have the faces in my drawings. Those are all the men who fucked me.”

  My hand rested on her cheek. “Ellie, doll. I don’t want you to call it fucking anymore, okay? They raped you or they assaulted you. I want you to save the ‘f’ word for when you find a man who knows the difference between making love, having sex, and fucking. And there is a difference. What they did to you? Was none of those.”

  “I’m sorry. The streets make—”

  “That’s not why I want you to stop using it. This is part of the healing process. You have a very long, very painful road ahead of you. I’m here for you. There are a lot of people who are cheering for you.”

  She stared at me, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. The poor girl who’d been handed a shitty hand in live had probably never had anyone there for her.

  “So,” I said, steering her away from the f-bomb conversation. “All those men in your drawings are from the organization?”

  “Most of them. Either I saw them there, or they wanted to purchase time with me. Some of them were frequent flyers. I can probably remember names—but they were all streets in the city. Passayunk. Broad. South. Sansom. Race. You get the idea. All of them. They never used anything but those around us.”

  “Do you think you could remember some of the others who were there with you?” I asked. “They shifted you all around.”

  “Rotated us through different places yet, I think I was one of the few who didn’t get passed around. Mister Passayunk liked me. I cost a lot.”

  It felt like someone ripped my heart out and tore it in half. This girl cost a lot. She should have cost parents a lot, in clothes or makeup or books or art supplies. Not some random dude who wanted a pretty young thing to stick his dick in.

  “Okay. Do you think you can sleep tonight? You can’t go back to your room—you really did a number on that.”

  She grimaced. “Yes, I should be able to sleep here. No problem. Doctor Warner, why are you all dressed up? I didn’t know coming to see me was a formal occasion.”

  Laughing I patted her knee. “We were actually at a party tonight to try and secure the funds to make sure that you’re covered and cared for until you’re ready for a group home or foster home.”

  Her face fell, and she looked surprised. “For me…”

  “Yes, we were appealing to one of the wealthy patrons of the hospital to continue to cover you here, so we wouldn’t have to move you to a different hospital. You’ve got a long road—”

  “Just for me?”

  “Just for you, Elutheria. You can help us find these assholes, and it’s only right we make sure that you’re safe and warm and cared for.”

  “Did it work?”

  I took a moment to consider my answer. The straight answer was no, and I’d discovered something terrible about the man I had been falling in love with. But the real answer?

  “Yes, just not the way we thought it would,” I smiled at her, and stood up. “Now, I want you to get some sleep. If you can’t fall asleep, ask the nurse for something to help you sleep, something light like Benadryl. Detective Haden will be in with questions in the morning.”

  She nodded and laid down on the small bed. She adjusted a few times and then finally settled. I grabbed the blanket and settled it over her.

  “Night, Ellie. Thank you.” I walked to the door and flipped the light off. A second later, a soft yellow night light clicked on. I hoped it was enough to chase her demons away.

  “Doctor?”

  I stopped in the door and turned to her in the dim light. She picked at the blanket, and didn’t meet me eyes in the near dark. I didn’t say a thing.

  “Always at night. In the middle of the night. He said I was his cure for insomnia. He could always fu—find his satisfaction and sleep with me. Sometimes he wouldn’t let me go, and he would bring a little machine with him for when he fell asleep.”

  “What kind of machine?” I was shocked and could barely get the words out.

  She paused for a moment. “It went over his nose, and made a whirring sound. He had to fill the water tank once in a while. A seepah? A see-ap?”

  “CPAP?”

  “That’s it,” she whispered. “CPAP. That’s what he called it.”

  Holy hell.

  CPAP—something a sleep doctor could proscribe.

  Fischer

  I couldn’t sleep.

  That was ironic considering what I did for a living.

  My brain couldn’t decide how to process all that was going on. The woman I was falling in love with, hard, had walked away from me today. Not only had she walked away, but she had thrown my own words back in my face.

  A very large part of me felt I really deserved that. She was right to do it.

  But there? Then? Right after some of the hottest sex I’d ever had, and then refused to talk to me about it at all? Just walk away and let the doors close?

  I had called up her contact on my phone a few times. I had a few messages typed out. But I never hit the send button—not on the message or the phone number.

  I was confused.

  Wren was absolutely passionate about helping people. She hadn’t become a doctor of social work to sit in an office. She didn’t go into one of the lowest paying professions for the glory and accolades. She did this because she loved it, and loved making a difference.

  I loved what I did, too, but I didn’t want to let my obligations take over my life. They already took up a huge swath of my life, I didn’t need more.

  That hadn’t worked out so well last time.

  When I had finally gotten my shit together in that hallway the night before, I managed to get to my car. I was still reeling from what happened, and I was worried about her. Calling Laxmi had seemed like the best bet to make sure she was home safe, but she wasn’t answering her phone. I texted her, and then Detective Haden, to make sure that everything was okay.

  Det. Haden: She’s at St. Chris. Whatever you did, this is not the time
to talk to her.

  Whatever I did? Why did they immediately blame me. And what was going on that it wasn’t a good time to talk to her?

  So, I spent a good portion of my night running Google searches on Temperance Dear Warner and her family.

  No wonder she’d told Lincoln Foster to fuck off, in not so many words.

  The girl was beyond loaded. Beyond. She had money that had money, that made money. Her parents had been patent and inventor sponsors, all over the world. They were good people, and they had taken a small percentage to get people to market. But some of those inventions had taken off like bats out of hell. They were savvy, and smart with the money. They had invested, and it had grown and grown.

  And then they had adopted Wren.

  She was an orphan at a Chilean orphanage. She stuck out like a sore thumb because she had such pretty light eyes and brown hair and looked nothing like the other children. But she had been left at the door, and they had no birth certificate for her—her birthday was a guess.

  Just like mine had been.

  I sat back in the chair and looked at the picture of her on the screen. She was so fucking gorgeous. I didn’t want to lose her. But how the hell did I start to explain my aversion to the whole legal system? The whole thing. I didn’t mind cops, or lawyer—but the legal system.

  It always failed. Always.

  Was I going to lose the best thing that had happened to me in years because we looked at this situation differently? Because years of experience had taught me one thing and her something else?

  I ran a hand down my face, and scrubbed against the beard that was already trying to grow in.

  Everything in my life had focused on getting where I was. I was the best. People came from all over the country to see me about their sleep problems, their neurological issues. They paid me top dollar to help and my failure rate was less than five percent. Less than five percent of all the people I saw continued to have problems.

  Laxmi was amazing as well. She had a less than fifteen percent failure rate. She was tied with Dubrovsky for second.

  Nothing in my life or my practice was less than exceptional.

  I slumped in the chair. Everything had come to me easily. My parents knew from when I was very young, I was ridiculously smart. I screwed up tests so I didn’t get held to standards I didn’t want to perform to. I did exactly the kind of work expected to get good grades, to get into the best schools. I never let on how high my IQ really was, to my parents’ great disappointment. They were always aware I was hyperintelligent.

  And they were always aware I was lazy. They didn’t know what to do with me. I was exactly as smart as I needed to be so I could get what I wanted and not be pushed to the next level.

  It had all gotten me here. To perfection, to being the best. The laziest best doctor on the planet. I knew everything I needed to know, and I could figure out most every problem.

  Except this one.

  I couldn’t let myself be sucked into the lawsuits and bullshit that had nearly crushed me. I had to shut down the part of me that gave a crap about the terror these kids could experience. I had to leave my fear for their future in the operation room or I would never be able to work. To think. To operate and function in the world.

  The sun peeked over the horizon and I sighed. Sunday morning.

  I had to find her.

  I had to apologize and explain why I had to leave my worry on the table, behind the doors. If she chose to walk away again, I wouldn’t stop her. I couldn’t. She was too much...her. She was who she needed to be.

  I wasn’t there yet. I might never get there. The balance of my sloth and my brilliance was still a way off—even at age thirty-six. Even for as much success as I had.

  I grabbed the phone.

  Fischer: Can we talk?

  I didn’t expect an answer for hours. She could sleep now.

  Wren: Can’t. Too many things going on right now.

  Fischer: You’re up? Don’t tell me the insomnia is back.

  Wren: No. At St. Chris. Things happened. Haven’t slept yet.

  Things happened?

  Fischer: My fault?

  There was no answer for hours.

  The door to my office opened without preamble, and Laxmi walked in. I had never seen her so angry or resolute, and I was a little afraid of what was going to come out of her mouth.

  Turned out, I had every right to be.

  She put two pieces of paper on my desk, and pushed one forward first. I moved it closer reluctantly and saw the lawyer’s letterhead staring at me. Blackwell, Hathorne and Ferrera.

  “What’s this?”

  “My release letter. I’m dissolving the partnership.” Laxmi folded her arms.

  “The partnership we just formed last month? Why?”

  “Because I can’t work with someone who doesn’t get involved in the lives of his patients. I don’t only care for a patient in the office and never think about them again. If someone needs me beyond the confines of this office, or of the emergency setting where I first meet them, I am not going to walk away from them. And if that’s a condition you want to set, that’s fine. I’m not beholden to it and I’m not beholden to work with that attitude.”

  “Laxmi, that’s...”

  She folded her arms and I knew I wasn’t going to get through to her. I sighed and pulled the other paper forward.

  It was a police sketch. I studied it a moment, and saw the date was yesterday. “What’s this?”

  “That is the ringleader of the sex traffic ring. Elutheria had a complete freak out Saturday night and she drew his picture all over the walls of her room. It’s an impressive and terrifying portrait. If you actually gave a shit, I’d tell you to ask to see the pictures from Haden. But since you don’t and I don’t think anyone could make you, I figured I’d walk it down to your lazy ass so you could see it.”

  The man was unremarkable. There was nothing unique about him. Even his stats were boring. Brown hair, brown eyes, middle height, middle weight, no tats, no scars... “How the hell are we going to find this guy out of the millions who look like John Smith Whiteman here?”

  “Good question.” She sighed. “It was one we spent most of yesterday trying to figure out while we were waiting for his picture. We thought about releasing the real image of him, from Ellie’s room, but that’s going to remain an unreleased detail. This is the picture we have.” She stared at me for a long moment. “He uses a CPAP.”

  I started at that detail. “That’s oddly specific.”

  “Ellie remembers him wearing it and falling asleep next to her.”

  Wrinkling my brow, I stared at the picture. “Why would she know that?”

  “She was one of his favorites, Fisch. He kept her in the same place so he could use her when he wanted to.”

  My lip twisted down in a frown. That was disgusting. A child, kept for his perverse entertainment.

  “How long?”

  “She was there for eighteen months.”

  I felt the bile in my throat. “Jesus Christ, she’s only sixteen.”

  Laxmi slammed her hand down on the desk. “Don’t start to give a shit now, Fisch. Just don’t. We’ve got this and we’re handling it. She’s got help, she’s got support and she’s going to have a place to stay and get well. She doesn’t need you to suddenly find your conscience.”

  She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I stared, completely unable to move.

  The picture of the ringleader and rapist sat there, staring at me. He was the most unremarkable person I had ever seen. It was the perfect disguise. Mister Normal. Someone who would never be suspected. How were they ever going to find this guy?

  I picked up the sheet and stared at it for a long moment to see if I could place him in my head.

  …“You won’t see her again. Not ever. Because you will never learn your temperance.” The dark man stood over me, holding a flaming sword. The light man stood next to him chuckling.


  “You can’t take her away, Seleth. You can’t. Do you understand what that will do to the world? To the very mortals we were meant to tempt and temper!”

  “Chaos,” the light man said, his blade burning with a strange black flame. “Utter chaos.”

  “How do I stop you, Malachai? You can’t create a curse without a cure! It is demanded by the balance, by El!” I screamed. A welling of power coursed through me. A gray power, balanced between evil and good. “Tell me how to break your curse!”

  They jerked and stood straight as I let the power whip through them from my outstretched hand. How did I have this power, but not the power to stop them?

  “There is no line between good and evil. Temper your sin, and find that evil lies in good and good lies in evil.”

  The dark man twisted his lip angrily and drove the bright blade and it’s flames straight through my chest...

  Laxmi was standing in front of me in the door, looking terrified and confused. She stared at me for a long, long moment before I saw her hand on my forearm, holding me in place.

  “Fischer...?”

  “I’m okay. Just a flash of memory.” I pulled my hand away from hers and headed to the bathroom we shared between our offices.

  “Who is Seleth?” Her voice was low and quiet.

  I spun. “You...how long were you holding on to me?”

  “A few seconds. You yelled, really loud and I found you here.” Laxmi’s voice was shaky. “I was trying to...” She shook her head. “What the hell was that?”

  “Nothing, it was nothing.”

  She strode over to me, slamming the door behind her. She grabbed my elbow. “That was not nothing, Fischer. What the hell was it?” I didn’t answer her. “Fischer. I saw someone shove a flaming sword through your chest. Talk.”

  I turned my head away from her and let out a breath. “It was a vision. Wren calls them hallucinations. I’ve had them my whole life and most of the time I just ignore them.”

  “Vis...visions?” She shook her head. “How the hell did I see what was going on in your brain?”