Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold (48 page)

What happened next he could have predicted himself. Dr. Prosser came into the lab and, seeing the situation, called for a male nurse, who hurried in and body-slammed him to the floor. The gun was pried out of his hands and his arms were yanked behind him.

He found himself with his flaming face pushed into the grooves of the tiled floor while the nurse and Dr. Murray tied his hands behind him with thick white medical tape. They frisked him and emptied his pockets, taking his cell phone and surveillance equipment, and the money.

Dr. Prosser stood over him, and he heard her, even though, between his prone position and his inflamed eyes, he couldn’t see her.

“Madelyn, what happened to you?” the big woman demanded, and Fish couldn’t make out what Dr. Murray, in her soft voice, said. Dr. Prosser dropped her voice as well, and after a long time, the big doctor stepped over Fish’s head. He could feel her gaze.

“Nurse,” she said, “get him up into one of those chairs on casters and tie him down. We’re going to call the police, but we’ve got to discuss this first. Dr. Murray was almost raped.”

The worst thing they did to him was to bind his hands and leave him alone with the mace stinging his face and burning his eyes. Because of the intense irritation, he kept writhing almost spasmodically in the uncomfortable secretary chair they had taped him to, even though he quickly realized he was not going to be able to escape from it. The thick white tape they had used pasted itself to his skin and clothing like glue, and it was next to impossible to get a finger hold. Even when he got one corner between his thumb and middle finger, he couldn’t get it to budge.

Incredibly disagreeable situation,
he thought, blinking his streaming eyes and shaking his head furiously in a further attempt to clear them.

They had left him in a windowless room that must have been very similar to the one Kateri had been dragged into. Its only furniture was a small conference table and a few upholstered chairs. The male nurse they had left guarding him came in every fifteen minutes to check his bonds. He was apparently nervous about his job, and applied more tape when he seemed to think it necessary. Under this kind of surveillance, Fish gave up trying to free himself in hopes that his situation would change.

He did ask the male nurse for water for his eyes, and on the second trip in, the man reluctantly sprayed down Fish’s face with a water bottle and dried it with a towel, which removed some of the stinging. Eventually Fish discovered he could keep his eyes open for longer periods of time, even though the aggravation of the mace continued. He kept trying to rub his face against his shoulders, attempting to get more of the irritation off his skin. All he really managed to do was ruin his makeup job, which he supposed looked silly now.

Misgivings continued to grow in his mind about what he had just done. Supposing he had guessed wrong, and Dr. Murray was innocent? He knew she had disagreements with the hospital, and might not be involved with the trafficking in human organs. She did come to examine patients in the hospital on consultations. She ran tests on them, and she probably used the laboratory. Dr. Prosser, when she gave orders to clear the lab, might not have thought to include her colleague in the warning. And the attitude he had taken with her—grabbing her arm and pulling a gun on her—would have made even an innocent person react the way she did. She might well have thought he was insane, or had evil motives.

I approached this in the worst manner possible
, he upbraided himself, trying to wipe his face fitfully on the shoulders of the awkward leather jacket.
I was basing everything on assumptions. First of all, I listened to those crazy nuns, against my better judgment. Then I set up an illegal investigation on what might be a baseless charge. Even if there’s some truth to it, I probably have just played right into the criminals’ hands by going after an innocent woman. Blunder after blunder.
He didn’t even want to imagine what Dr. Anschlung would think of him when she heard of this. 
Well, she tried to warn me…

He grimaced through his tears, wriggling his useless hands once again against their bonds.
Very badly done, Ben. Very badly done
.

With a sigh, he stared up at the sterile white ceiling, feeling the tears pooling in his eyes, and wished for the umpteenth time that the doctors would get through their discussion and decide his fate, so he could at least get on to the next bad thing.

After what he estimated was at least an hour and fifteen minutes, they came back for him, Dr. Murray and Dr. Prosser and their male guard. They sat down in comfortable chairs across the table and stared at him.

He tried to stare back, but with his eyes still pouring out tears, it was difficult.
I must look truly, truly pathetic.

“So, Mr. Denniston,” Dr. Prosser said at last, in her full, familiar voice with a touch of mockery. “Can you give any explanation for your actions?”

Fish balanced his possible idiocy with the benefits of sticking with his original plan, and chose the latter.
A strong front
, he told himself with a groan,
might still be useful
.

 “I’d like to ask you some questions first,” he said. “Such as what happened to Tennille LeBlanc, the nurse who worked here for so many years? And what happened to the mother of Daniel Brier, who was brought here with a broken ankle?” Fish took a breath and licked the tears from his mouth, wishing he could have his tear ducts removed. “Which brings me to the question of what happened to Rose Brier when she started picking up her dad’s interviews with Nurse LeBlanc. Dr. Murray, you were one of the last persons to see her before she fell, although you willingly gave us other names to investigate. And according to my sources, your hospital was willing to sell me an organ from someone in a coma, and sent Dr. Murray, the surgeon over, to take the money and set up the transaction. The problem was, she knew me and I knew her. Selling human organs, especially from comatose patients, is incredibly risky. How much longer do you think you can keep all this from coming out? It’s going to catch up with you eventually.”

Once again he had to pause to sniff and try to shake away the discharge from his eyes. This was certainly cramping his style.

Dr. Prosser shook her head. “This is a very interesting story you’ve cooked up about traffic in body parts. I have no doubt you wiled your way into our hospital laboratory on some insane story similar to this one. Your anti-choice friends probably gave you all sorts of ideas.”

She leaned towards him. “But the fact is, Mr. Denniston, your motives in coming here are clear and simple to me. You came here to assault a woman, and you found Dr. Murray alone in the laboratory. She’s described to me what you said to her and what you did to her, and if that’s not a premeditated rape, I don’t know what is.” There was almost a smile on her lips.

She had him trapped by circumstances, as surely as she had him tied hand and foot to this blasted chair, and she knew it. He was sure that the evidence of the camera and the tape recorder would have disappeared by now into oblivion.

“You think you can make it stick?” he said mildly, nevertheless.

“Not only can we make it stick, we’ve got a psychological profile roughed out on you already.” Dr. Prosser leaned an elbow on the table and grinned at him. “Since you were such pals with that Kovach girl, Dr. Murray did a little research of her own, and she tells me that you have a pretty twisted past. That a few years back, the dirty old man at your high school kidnapped and forced himself on you.”

His face burned now, and not just from the poisonous chemicals.

“It was in the court records,” Dr. Murray said, and was silent again.

Dr. Prosser nodded. “It’s the commonest thing in the world for victims of violence to turn and inflict violence on others. Tons of cases every day in the courts proves this. And we’ve got great lawyers, and great psychologists, and they’re going to bring it all out, Mr. Denniston, they sure are. And another thing,” she pointed at him. “You say you’re so concerned over your Miss Brier. What I want to know is—where were you when she fell off that hayloft in a deserted barn far from help? What’s your alibi?”

Up until now, he hadn’t realized that he didn’t have one. He had been out rock climbing, alone, and sitting in his car in a solitary place in the park doing his “Eve of St. Agnes” paper. No one could vouch for him.

 “I wonder if maybe this Rose Brier was your first victim—or maybe intended victim. We’ll leave that to the courts to decide. And if they find out something else unpleasant about you after they start going down that path, it’s going to make your despicable assault on my colleague here more understandable. Guilty consciences seldom rest. Why would you have a gun in your hand when you talked to Dr. Murray if you didn’t have some kind of evil intent? It’s obvious that you could have shot her and it would have been pretty easy for you to escape back onto that street before anyone caught you.” She leaned back in her chair. “How’s that for asking questions, Mr. Denniston?” 

He had listened to all this without moving a muscle, but his insides were sinking. At the back of his mind, Freet was laughing.

“Will you look at that?” Dr. Prosser said to Dr. Murray. “Cold-blooded as a fish. He’s a psychopath, this one. Good for you, girl. You caught this kook all by yourself, too.”

Dr. Murray’s face was uneasy, and she wasn’t looking at him.

Her fellow doctor wasn’t disturbed at all. In fact, she looked quite satisfied.

“I think it’s time to call the police,” she said.

22
...the king’s son approached the hedge of thorns, on which many other young men had failed...

H
IS

Now that she was apparently sure of herself, Dr. Prosser had Fish wheeled on his chair into the hospital corridor for display. “Make sure he can’t get out of that tape, nurse,” Dr. Prosser said authoritatively, as doctors, nurses, and other curious onlookers drifted nearby, shocked and whispering as they passed.

The humiliation was deliberate, and effective. He could hear Dr. Prosser, in supposed confidential tones, detailing his lurid encounters with Mr. Freet to all interested ears. He kept his eyes down, almost thankful for the irritation of the mace that disguised his burning face.

But he hadn’t been arrested three times previously for nothing. When the police came, he looked up and met the eyes of the first officer he saw, blinking back the fluid from his eyes. He recognized the man from his dealings with the police  during the time of Rose’s accident, and guessed that it was possible the man recognized him.

“Officer, there’s no reason for them to have me tied up like this. I didn’t do what they’re accusing me of. And I didn’t resist them once they apprehended me. This is pure malice.”

Dr. Prosser snorted. “Oh, sure. Officer, this is one sick young criminal we have for you here.”

“Leave that for the courts to decide,” Fish said, attempting to wipe his eyes with his shoulders again. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about the rest.”

“I assure you that we wouldn’t have done this to him if he hadn’t fought us tooth and nail,” the hospital director said to the officer huffily.

“Nevertheless,” Fish said, with a bare touch of a smile, “I think you should untape me. I won’t fight you. As you can see, I’ve gotten mace in my eyes.”

“Actually, Dr. Prosser, he’s right,” the policeman said. “I can’t take him in tied up like this.”

“Oh! Certainly, now that you’re here, I’m sure you can keep him under control,” Dr. Prosser said.

Even so, it seemed like forever before they cut his hands free. When his arms were released, he didn’t move from the chair, but began methodically wiping his eyes and massaging his arms and forearms, waiting for the arrest. He barely paid attention to the overblown charges that Dr. Prosser made against him, although he was mildly surprised to hear Dr. Murray lie so believably. Her demeanor was so reticent that she could convince anyone, particularly a jury. But she had slipped up once, and that was enough.