The Secret of Kolney Hatch (13 page)

“Doctor Watson,” he called out to me, “You’re needed in the infirmary…somethin’ to do with William?”

 I turned to Rosalind. “I have to go.”

“I understand; I’ll come back and visit you soon.”

“I’d like that,” I told her. For a moment, we stood under the umbrella just staring into one another’s eyes. That familiar look in her eyes made me feel closer to Rosalind.

Heathcliff scowled at me as I entered the asylum, but Rosalind quickly eased his aversion for me by showering him with attention.

I exchanged one last smile with Rosalind before rushing to the infirmary to check on Wilson. But when I reached the room, I found Wilson safely asleep in his hospital bed. After checking his vital signs, I could not help but laugh at Heathcliff’s endeavor to get me away from Rosalind, though I could not believe that a man would stoop to such a level of childishness.
 

When the day was over, and I turned in for the evening, I noticed someone had slipped a letter under my door. It was from Claire.

Letter from Claire baker To Paul Watson

“My dearest Paul,                         “May 21, 1926, London”

I hope you are well. I hoped that with your absence, perhaps I would feel lighter—a heavy weight would lift off of my shoulders. I would be unbound from the thought of you like a freed bird from a cold-wire cage. But I am afraid that is not possible because I miss you terribly Paul. I feel so alone without you around.

Richard is different since you left. He acts distant toward me most days. He is never around, always out until the early hours of morning, always with the Loxleys, and I fear that he is beginning to fall back into his old habits. Do not worry though; he has not hurt me again.

He wonders why I am acting strange, but I cannot tell him. The truth is I am pregnant, and you are the only person in the world I can tell, the only person who can comfort me.

I feel like the worst person in the world to say what I am about to, but I do not want to be pregnant, Paul. I do not want to be pregnant. I am scared. I do not feel comfortable with Richard. He is turning into someone I hardly know. What am I to do, Paul?  Please write to me as soon as you can. Send the letter to your home, not to mine. Richard will read the letter if you send it here, and I have not told him I am pregnant yet.

“Yours always and forever,

“Claire”

fifteen
A MISSING PERSON

Paul Watson’s Journal

June 1, early mornin
g
.—
Screams of restless patients kept me up most of the night until I fell into a nightmare about a corpse that rose from its grave and chased me. Cornered in a dark room, when I turned to face the corpse, it was my mother that stood before me. At first, she was as I always knew her, beautiful. But soon, her face changed to gray and dying—the bullet hole in her head oozing blood. I wanted to save her, but I could not move. Then her body crumpled to the floor, and she was just a corpse again.

When I awoke, I stared at the pasty walls for a long while before I rose from that hard bed and dressed. The eyes in the portrait of the woman over the fireplace seemed different today—less sad and more distant.

 Even after I’d dressed, I thought about my mother, how much I missed hearing her voice and her laugh. I blankly stared into the mirror. I hardly recognized my reflection. With my growing hair and beard, I looked older, hardened.

Shifting my gaze to the clock, I realized I would need to hurry to the infirmary. I had to check on Alexander Parker who was recovering from his operation. He had swallowed a bunch of metal rivets, washers, and hob-nails. I also had to check on William. His bruises had started to heal, but he was still unable to breathe well.

                      When I arrived in the infirmary, Alexander seemed fine, but I noticed an empty bed where William should have been.

                      “Have you seen William Wilson?” I asked Alice as she passed by me in the hall pushing a cart full of pills.

                      “No,” she said in her usual harsh voice.  “I’ve been busy all morning. If you’ll excuse me, Doctor Watson, I’ve work to do.”

                      “Of course,” I said to her, and then after looking into each room on the first floor with no sign of William, I headed upstairs to the men’s ward. He was not in there either, and so I cut through the Atrium to go back downstairs.

                      “Have you seen William Wilson?” I asked Lamont who was in the Atrium guiding Martha around for a small walk. It was raining again, so none of the patients wanted to go outside.

                      “I’m sorry, Doctor Watson, I haven’t. I thought he was in the infirmary.”

                      I headed straight to Doctor Reid’s office.

                      “Doctor Reid,” I said quickly. “William Wilson is missing. He’s not in the infirmary or anywhere else in the asylum.”

                      “No. He isn’t,” Doctor Reid looked up from the report he was writing at his desk. “I’m sorry, Doctor Watson. I thought Heathcliff would’ve told you. William was discharged early this morning.”

                      “What? Why?” I exclaimed.

I shut his office door and sat down in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Want one?” He said, offering me a cigarette.

              “Yes, thanks,” I said. He lit the cigarette and I continued to speak between smokes.

“He was having difficulty breathing. I examined him

myself just yesterday. I don’t think that he was well, doctor. Certainly not well enough to be discharged.”

“His daughters and his wife wanted him home.”

“But is he well enough to be home?”

“I thought so...when I examined him.”

“Well...what about what was done to him?”

“What was done to him, Paul?”

I leaned in close.

“I have reason to believe Woods and Hodgson did hurt him.”

“And you have evidence of this?”

“No, but...” I sat back in my chair. “I needed more time with William.”

“Paul, accusing Woods and Hodgson of a crime like that is very serious. They would be tried in court...go to jail if found guilty. Are you absolutely sure it was Woods and Hodgson that hurt William?”

              “I told you, I don’t have the evidence yet...but I know I could get it out of them if I had more time.”

“Perhaps you should let it go, Paul. William Wilson is no longer our concern.”

“I thought you said no one leaves Kolney Hatch?”

              “I believe I said that a person leaves Kolney Hatch by a rare circumstance or death. This....is a rare circumstance.”

“And what if they did beat him, Doctor? They could harm someone else.”

Doctor Reid folded one hand over the other.

“Paul, perhaps you’ve misunderstood your position here at Kolney Hatch.
I’m
the superintendent, and I’ve chosen...after careful consideration...to discharge William Wilson. Now, if you want to continue as a doctor here, then you’ll need to focus on your patients...not run around solving mysteries. Patients get hurt, Paul, and regardless of how, our duty is to make sure the patients are well in the end. Anything could’ve happened to William in that ward...we’ll just never know the real story.”

                      I could not believe what Doctor Reid was saying. I knew William Wilson was not well enough to be discharged. I knew Woods and Hodgson hurt William. But there was nothing I could do.

“Are we in agreement?”

                      I nodded my head.

              “Splendid. Now. Moving forward. I’m going to need you to write up the report on Alexander Parker and have it on my desk in half an hour.”

                     “Of course,” I said, taking a final drag of my cigarette. “I apologize for my tone earlier.”

“Not to worry.”

              Filled with apprehension, I stood up and headed back to my office.

sixteen
FREDERICK HUME

Paul Watson’s Journal

June 1, 8in the evenin
g
.—
I tried not to think about what had transpired between Doctor Reid and me as I sat at my desk and wrote up the report on Alexander, but I couldn’t concentrate. William Wilson’s horror-filled eyes haunted me, and I was still tired from my bad sleep. The vision of my mother had me thinking once more about her murder, how her killer was still out there.

I needed to be alone, or even more so, I needed to escape my thoughts.

But Doctor Reid was already angry with me. I needed to finish this report. And so I did, and after I dropped it off at his empty office, I headed straight to the men’s ward.

Heathcliff sat on a stool, reading through a document.

“Where are Woods and Hodgson?” I asked him.

“Not here,” Heathcliff snapped without looking up.

Perhaps he was still angry that I spent time with Rosalind.

“Well...I need to speak to the Captain...”

Heathcliff looked up, and his eyes narrowed.

“Why? He’s not your patient.”

A woman’s scream came from downstairs, startling Heathcliff and me.

“I’ll check it out,” I said, and turned to leave the ward.

“No. No,” Heathcliff said, “Watch th’ ward for a moment, will you? I’ll call you if someone’s hurt.”

Heathcliff hurried out of the room, and I turned to see the Captain, dressed in a tattered garb, blabbering to himself in the corner of the ward.

“She’s here. Coming.”

“Captain,” I said gently to him, but he did not look up.

“Put him in a box....”

“Captain, please, I need your help...”

“Cut him up and let ‘em rot.”

“You have to tell me what happened to William,” I whispered.

The Captain stopped suddenly.

“You,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “You shouldn’t be here. I thought I told you to leave.”

“Captain, please. William Wilson. Do you remember him?”

“He was a good soldier,” the Captain said nodding his head. Then tears filled his eyes. “He died in my arms.”

“Captain...please try to remember the day William was hurt. Was he hurt by the attendants here? Woods and Hodgson?”

“So...many died.”

“Captain...”

“So...many...friends.”

Then The Captain looked at me.

“Leave this place.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Leave...before it’s too late.”

Then his eyes were vacant again and he began jabbering once more. I knew then I would not receive any reliable information from him.

Heathcliff did not return. Instead, the tall muscular scar-faced Hodgson did.

“I know what you and Woods did to William,” I accused. “I know you both beat him. And I’m going to prove it.”

He smirked at me but said nothing.

“You can smirk all you want to Hodgson, but I’m going to find evidence against you. You’ll pay for what you’ve done to William.”

“Let me know when you find that evidence, Doctor Watson,” Hodgson scoffed.

Without saying another word, I left the ward. I headed straight for the kitchen.

Sheldon took one look at my disheveled, distressed face and understood I needed a drink.

                      “
Come wi’ me
,” Sheldon said, leading me into the large kitchen.

Inside the kitchen it was hot and smelled like old rotted food and grease. I had to hold my nose. Sheldon laughed at me.

“Guessin’ yah haven’t been in many kitchens,” he said.

“Not really,” I answered as we walked across the dull red floor.

A few patients were washing dishes in large basins. Some of the other kitchen staff was slicing the lamb for dinner on steel tables. Sheldon stopped by the last cupboard at the far end of the kitchen just past the ovens and pulled out an unopened bottle of whiskey.

“Let me tell yah ‘bout this whiskey, Doctor Watson. Cardhu, single malt. Will slide down wi’ faultless manners, I promise,” he said handing me the bottle. “It’ll calm those nerves.”

“Thanks,” I said, taking the bottle.

I walked out of there intending to drink enough Cardhu to get me through the day. But as I headed toward the stairs, I heard a scream in the direction of the dining room. I hurried out to the sun porch to find Nurse Bigsby in tears. Heathcliff stood next to her.

“What’s happened?” I asked.

Lamont had joined us by then.

“It’s Frederick Hume,” Heathcliff said sorrowfully. “He’s dead.”

Nurse Bigsby continued to cry in Heathcliff’s arms.

“Have you seen Alice?” Heathcliff asked Lamont.