The Cage (3 page)

Her heart beat with greater intensity the closer the van came. As the pounding in her chest increased, the world grew darker and spun. A wave of nausea swept over her. Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?” David whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be here.”

“I said I’m fine. I need to see him. I need to look into his eyes.”

David squeezed her shoulder. “You’re not alone in this.”

She reached up and found his hand. “Thank you.” But she
was
alone, and she knew that David would never understand what she had to do.

The van backed up to the hospital’s entrance, and David directed his men to take up positions on both sides of the van’s rear. The guards flanked the van with shotguns and Tasers. The DOC officers joined the hospital guards and cautiously opened the rear doors. The interior was dark and nearly empty with only a man strapped into a secure transport chair inside. The DOC guards climbed into the cab as the hospital guards provided cover. David called for them to check the restraints. After a final verification, they wheeled the prisoner out.

When the sun hit him, Francis Ackerman Jr. squint-ed and turned away. But after a moment, his eyes must have adjusted because he stared straight up at the sky. Jennifer watched him take in a deep breath of fresh air. She hoped that he enjoyed it, because it was the last time he’d ever get a taste of the world outside a cell. She felt her rage boil, and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from attacking the helpless killer. Her limbs shook, and pain shot through the palms of her hands. After a moment, she realized that she had squeezed her fist so tight that her nails had penetrated the skin.

As the guards wheeled him past, Ackerman locked gazes with her. She made no attempt to hide her rage or her disgust. A part of her wanted him to recognize her, to realize what was coming. But another part trembled with fear.

~~*~~

Ackerman was more than just a serial killer; he was also a serial escapist. And he knew that an escape usually wasn’t a mapped-out, intricate plan. It was usually just exploiting a weakness and having the preparedness of mind to know how to react when such a chink in the armor arose. He had become an expert in noticing the little things, the small changes in routine, the breaks from the norm.

He noticed many things as his captors wheeled him from the transport van to his new home. A group of construction workers exiting a run-down wing of the hospital. The heights and weights of the guards. One guard walked with a limp, a knee injury that could be exploited. Every detail of security, positions of cameras, points-of-view of the guards. He also noticed an old friend greeting him at the entrance, her auburn hair blazing in the shimmering sunlight, and the man standing with her who had placed his hand on her shoulder in such a sweet and loving manner.

He smiled to himself. In this particular escape, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t have to be the one to initiate the break in the status quo. He had a strong suspicion that his old friend would handle those details for him. And when she did, he would be ready.

Wrapped in nothing but a navy blue fleece blanket, Jennifer stared out of her office window and watched the storm clouds roll in. David joined her at the glass, his arms sliding around her as he pulled her close. She could feel the warmth of his body even through the blanket, and she craned her neck back and rubbed her hair against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” David said. She found his deep Southern voice intoxicating.

“Do you ever wonder where you’ll be in five years? Think about it; we didn’t even know each other two years ago. Look at how our lives have changed since then. But when I look back on everything, it seems like it’s all fallen into place somehow. All of the little details lining up and moving toward a particular outcome. But we can’t see any of that until we look back on it. At the time, none of it makes any sense.”

“Hindsight.”

“Exactly.”

“So when you look back, do you find affirmation or regret?”

“I’ll let you know in five years.”

David squeezed her tighter and leaned in close to her ear. “My divorce will be final soon. Then we won’t need to do all this sneaking around and hiding.”

Jennifer pulled away and walked back to where she had left her clothes. The office was large and comfortable. She had handpicked the decor: a dark cherry antique desk with matching tables and filing cabinets, black leather couches. The space smelled of jasmine, a fragrance she had loved since childhood. She spent most of her time here and often slept on the pullout couch. Since her apartment was almost an hour away, she’d done her best to make the space her own. “It has nothing to do with your divorce.”

“Then what? It’s him, isn’t it? Ackerman? You’ve been distant since the moment he arrived. I know that you wanted to confront your fears in order to overcome them, but I still don’t think that it’s a good idea for you to be this close to him.”

“So now you’re the psychiatrist? Maybe you should stick with what you do best and leave the rest to me.”

David said something more, but she didn’t catch it. She wished that she’d never opened up to him about her past. The familiar tightening in her chest constrict-ed her airway, and her mind floated away as the room spun. The memories came flooding back in a blur.

Sitting at the kitchen table with her family. Joining hands for prayer. The smell of warm rolls and cranberry sauce. Her father showing off his new watch. Her mother’s laughter. Her brother kicking her younger sister under the table. The doorbell ringing. Her mother telling her to answer the door. A boy about her age standing in the rain. A boy with cold, gray eyes
.

“Jennifer, it’s okay. I’m here.”

She felt David’s arms around her again and realized that she must have had a panic attack, a by-product of post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. She pushed him away and got to her feet. “Don’t coddle me. I’m fine.”

But she knew that she wasn’t fine, and she would never be fine until this was over and done. She had been driven by the same goal for as long as she could remember, and now it was time.

Jennifer had been the only one to survive that night. After the murders of her family, she moved in with her great uncle, who was not necessarily a cruel man, but wasn’t kind either. She changed her name, had her records sealed, and did all that she could to escape the stain of her past. In fact, only one other person in the world knew her true story. And she deeply regretted sharing that burden with David.

They had met at a support group for people suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and became fast friends. David had been dealing with the things he had seen and done as a soldier, and she had been trying to overcome the night terrors and panic attacks. When a new position as head of security came open at the hospital, she recommended him to Kendrick, and he landed the job.

“Listen, Jennifer, I understand what you’re going through. I may be the only person here who does. I’ve seen my friends die right in front of my eyes and been powerless to do anything about it. When I was in Iraq—”

Jennifer had heard enough. She rounded on him and jabbed a finger into the firm muscles of his chest. She did her best to keep her voice down, but when she spoke, it was barely below a scream. “Don’t you
dare
tell me that you know what it’s like. There’s no comparison between soldiers dying in combat and my family being slaughtered in our own home. You signed up for a job, and you should’ve known what you were getting yourself into. We were just good people trying to live our lives in peace, and the war came to us. Not the other way around. So don’t you
dare
compare the two.”

She looked into his eyes and saw that tears had formed. She felt her own tears break free as well. She loved him and wanted to apologize. She hadn’t meant to attack him, hadn’t meant to trivialize his experiences or undermine the impact that such events would have on a person. She was merely angry and was directing her rage at the closest outlet.

She wanted to apologize, but she didn’t. “Just get out.”

David didn’t argue. He gathered his things and left without a word.

Once he was gone, Jennifer walked over to her desk and picked up the picture of her deceased family that faced her every day. She admired their smiling faces and wondered where her life might have taken her if not for the events of that night. She wondered if her little sister would now be her best friend. Would she have nieces and nephews? Kids of her own?

The tears came again, and she slumped to the floor, clutching the photo to her chest.

David walked through the first set of security doors and down a white sterile hallway flanked by secure treatment rooms of his own design. At the end of the hall, he pushed the call button and glanced up at the security camera. The large steel door clicked, and a buzzer sounded as the lock of the outer door disengaged. He then entered a narrow hall with a door on each end and one on the side. Industrial-sized vents that could pump sleeping gas into the space if a prisoner were to make it this far covered the ceiling. David waited at the door on the side of the hallway, but nothing happened. He glanced at his watch and then at a camera mounted above the door.

“Ferris!” he said, with a little more bite than intended. He had hoped to escape the uneasiness of his confrontation with Jennifer and occupy his mind instead with more productive applications. However, he wondered if he’d be able to accomplish much in his current state of mind.

The buzzer sounded, and the door clicked open. He pushed his way inside as his second-in-command, Anthony Ferris, greeted him. “Howdy, boss. You come to watch the show?”

“What do you mean?”

An array of video monitoring and security control equipment filled the cramped space, and the room stank of day-old doughnuts and body odor. Ferris gestured toward a video monitor to his left. David moved closer and leaned over the desk to get a better look at the screen.

The picture showed the facility’s newest arrival, Ackerman, sprinting back and forth within the confined workout area where the prisoners were allowed their required hour of physical activity. The space was really nothing more than a round concrete room filled with Astroturf. All of the cells within the Iron Circle stretched in a crescent moon shape, and their back walls opened into the workout area. The inmates were never allowed contact with one another. Like the narrow hallway leading to the control room, more vents dotted the room’s ceiling so that sleeping gas could be pumped in if an inmate refused to return after his hour of allotted time.

As David watched the killer’s training, Ferris said, “Did you hear about the Chamber of Horrors?”

“Don’t call it that.” The Chamber of Horrors was a nickname given to the basement of the hospital’s old wing, an area currently undergoing renovations. It had earned the name during the days when lobotomies and electroshock therapy were common treatments for uncooperative patients. The old-timers said that you could still hear the screams on a quiet night. David knew that the ghost stories were all just a load of crap, tall tales concocted to frighten the rookie orderlies. But there was definitely some truth to the old basement’s reputation, and the place gave him the creeps.

“Sorry, boss. But did you hear about the water?”

“No, what’s up?”

“The whole basement is flooded up to your knees. They’re not sure if a pipe burst or if it’s just from all the rain. Drains must be clogged up with debris or something from the renovations. The construction guys left a bunch of their tools sitting out down there, and now they’re probably all shot. We called the plumber, but he can’t make it all the way out here until tomorrow afternoon. Said he’s had several emergencies come up with the rain we’ve had lately.”

“Great. That’ll probably set the new construction plans back a month. Don’t we have any sump pumps over there?”

Ferris shrugged. “Not my department.”

David returned his gaze to the monitor where Ackerman maintained his pace. The look on the killer’s face was determined and calm. His speed and agility unsettled David, reminding him of the times he had witnessed training sessions of Navy SEALs or Delta operators. “How long has he been at it?” he said to Ferris.