Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 31

Zandra asks for a bandage after she's seated in a waiting area. The nurse, the sort of bright and handsome young man she'd consider dating 25 years ago had her life not nose-dived into its own sewage lagoon, was more than happy to accommodate the request.

When's the last time I even went on a date?

Who cares.

Zandra gives the nurse the slip after he leaves for the bandage. It's nothing out of a spy novel, as her bad ankle supports only the stealth of a melted candle.

The other patients in the waiting area look relieved to watch her hobble away. Their faces confirm her suspicions about the aroma announcing her presence several feet in front of her stilted gait. There's plenty she notices in return.

The young lady in the corner is doctor shopping for benzos.

The man with the big jacket will try, unsuccessfully, to convince a nurse that his toddler became injured after a spill at a playground.

The old man sitting with his wife will need a kidney transplant.

The gay couple by the fish tank is locked into co-dependency and alcoholism.

Everyone else is here for standard stuff. If I had more time, I could leave here with their co-pays in my pockets.

Time isn't on Zandra's side, though. She's too late. Herman is absent from the room she met him in previously, where he revealed to her the Six Reasons. In his place is a woman with a cast on her leg. She asks whether Zandra is here to give her a ride home.

"Wrong person," Zandra says and turns to walk away.

"You're not with Uber?" the woman says, alarmed.

"I smell like hot trash. Would you get in a car me?" Zandra says.

"That smell is coming from you? Oh, my."

"There's your answer."

Zandra leaves the conversation and flags down a nurse. She asks where Herman went, qualifying the question with, "Don't give me none of that patient privacy bullshit, either. If he's dead, he doesn't need privacy anyway."

The average person on the street might seem alarmed by Zandra's abrupt demeanor, but the nurse looks like it's just another day soaking up the ooze that crawls into the hospital.

"He didn't die," the nurse says.

"So where did he go?" Zandra says. She struggles to keep up with the nurse's brisk pace down the hallway.

"Do I look like his mother?" the nurse says, keeping her attention on a tablet computer.

My kind of nurse.

"That'll do," Zandra says and peels away.

Herman is alive and he left. The question is whether he left by himself, and how to find him.

I'm not out of ideas yet. I'm the psychic. I can figure this out.

Zandra rides an elevator up to a cafeteria on the fourth floor. It's part of the hospital's attempt at creating a more relaxed environment for visitors and patients. How relaxing hospital-grade food can be is up for debate, but the panoramic windows provide excellent views of the surrounding area.

It couldn't have been long between the time that the man with the scars on his face left the bunker for the hospital and the time that Vince and I left. Herman must have left without raising much suspicion, since they gave his room away already.

That means he formally checked out of the hospital. There's always lag time between wanting to leave and actually leaving because of the paperwork, which closes the gap between my arrival and his departure even further. It's probably a difference of a few minutes.

If that's true and he left by himself, I should be able to spot him walking away from the hospital. He wouldn't take a taxi. He doesn't have any money. If he wanted one, he'd probably loiter until someone paid him to go away. Freak.

If I don't spot him, the man with the scars on his face probably whisked him away in a vehicle.

It isn't much to go off of, but it never is much. And it'd be a lot easier if the city didn't plant all these stupid trees along the sidewalk.

Zandra shuffles from window to window in the cafeteria and scans the streets below. No sign of Herman. She hurries from one wide view to another, but she comes up empty. In her haste, she nearly mistakes her reflection for Herman standing a few feet away.

Slow down. Slow way down. Look.

The only familiarity she can spot is Vince. He's moved on from beating others to receiving them himself. He's plugged up the entire four-way stop with the help of a TASER administered by three Stevens Point police officers. Vince still stands despite the voltage, a testament to the amphetamines preventing his breaking heart from splitting itself in half.

On the one hand, it's only a matter of time before they shoot him dead. On the other, at least he wasn't lying to me earlier.

As predicted, the shot comes a moment later, although Zandra wonders why the officers didn't lead with lead in the first place. Then comes another. And another. They don't miss this time.

Enjoy the afterlife, Vince. Maybe I'll get a Ouija board and you can tell me who hired you.

The shots resonate into the cafeteria. Zandra's joined by a dozen or so patients and staff at the window. Bloodshed isn't enough to keep her attention anymore, though, and she uses the opportunity to grab a free meal from an unattended cafeteria tray instead.

Everyone looks one way while I look another. Just like giving a reading back at Sneak Peek. Just like always.

She washes the expedited meal down with a cold, forgotten cup of coffee. The caffeine barely touches her exhaustion. Then it's back to the elevator, where she heads down to a wing full of patients. She wanders until an empty bed presents itself in a room at the end of a hallway. Making sure no one notices, she rolls onto the bed and wraps herself in blankets.

Jo is dead. Vince is dead. Herman is probably dead. The man with the scars on his face got Herman checked out, drove off and killed him. I'm 95 percent certain on it. I can guess where he dumped the body, too, because Gene is a dick. One more body face down in Soma Falls.

The speed with which Zandra falls asleep could only be compared to jumping out an airplane. It won't last long enough.