Night Shift Page 2

  Allie takes another gulp of her soda, and then, with a deep, bracing breath, begins. “Danny came home from a walk about ten minutes before I called you. He takes long strolls nearly every night now, and for a while it seemed like it was helping him, you know?” She gives me a look as if she’s appealing for my understanding, so I nod. “Anyway, something clearly happened tonight that set him off, though to be honest he’s been off for the past two nights. I could tell something was bothering him and I asked him yesterday, but all he said was that he was tired and thought maybe he was coming down with a cold or something.”

  “Was he displaying the usual behaviors that precede one of his episodes?”

  Allie frowns and shakes her head. “Not really, no. He’s been oddly sullen and withdrawn, and he seems to be unusually scatterbrained. That’s not like him. Then tonight he came in from his walk and he was all wild and panicky. He was as pale as a ghost, which is ironic I suppose, because he started ranting about seeing one, saying that this ghost was after him, that it wanted him dead.”

  She pauses, taking another drink of her soda. Then she sets the can down on the counter and crosses her arms in front of her. “He kept saying that he saw someone get killed and didn’t do anything about it. And now the ghost of the man who was killed is haunting him.” She sighs and shakes her head, a mirthless smile on her face. “I tried to calm him down, telling him there was no such thing as ghosts, reminding him that I should know given my line of work.”

  Devo looks at me, eyebrows raised in question.

  “She works at the Olson Funeral Home,” I explain.

  “I mostly do funeral planning,” Allie tells him. “You know, meeting with families to help them figure out the specifics. Sometimes it’s preplanning, older folks who come in and want to make arrangements ahead of time, so their family won’t have to deal with it. There’s a lot to it from choosing between burial and cremation, picking out a casket, deciding what clothes the deceased will wear, choosing the burial plot location, and of course, the fees associated with all of that. It can get intense at times.”

  “I can imagine,” Devo says.

  “Anyway,” Allie goes on, “I kept trying to convince Danny that whatever he had seen, it wasn’t a ghost. But he kept escalating, and then he started talking about needing to run and hide. The last time he said something like that he ran off and lived in the woods on the north side of town for two weeks. By the time we found him he’d been half-eaten alive by bugs, lost thirty pounds, and his illness was way out of control because he hadn’t been taking his meds. We had to have him admitted to a psychiatric hospital for three months to get him back on track, and I don’t want to have to go through anything like that again.”

  “I remember that episode,” I say. “It was my first encounter with Danny. And Allie is right. He was in really rough shape that time.”

  “Maybe he should have stayed in the psych hospital,” Devo says, sotto voce, glancing back into the living room. “At the very least he should be in a halfway house where he can be monitored and cared for by people who know what they’re doing.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Allie snaps at him. “I promised my parents that I would look after my brother if anything happened to them. That’s what I’m doing. Nobody knows him better than I do.”

  I lean toward Devo and say, “Their parents died in that plane crash in Montana five years ago.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Devo says.

  Allie gives him a wan smile. “It’s been an adjustment, that’s for sure. I swear I’ve been on top of his meds. I set them out for him and check each day to make sure he’s taken them. I use one of those calendar pill dispensers with the days of the week on it to make sure he takes them all. He’s usually fine when he’s on his meds.”

  “I remember him saying he didn’t like the meds the last time I saw him in the ER,” I say. “He said they made him too lethargic. I talked with his physician and asked if there was something different he could try that might lessen that effect. His meds were changed then, weren’t they?”

  “They were,” Allie says. “And Danny was really happy with the new meds. I saw a difference in him. He was perkier and more animated.”

  “It’s possible that the meds aren’t working any longer, or that his dose needs adjusting,” I say. “I think it would be wise to take him to the ER tonight and get him checked over. Maybe there’s something else going on. Physical illnesses can interfere with certain medications and you said he felt like he was coming down with something.”

  Allie nods, looking concerned. “Think he’ll go without a fuss?” she asks.

  I glance into the other room and see Danny and Roscoe stretched out on the floor together, Danny slowly petting the dog from head to tail repeatedly, Roscoe on his side, tongue lolling. Both look relaxed, happy, and serene.

  “I think he’ll go along if Roscoe goes with him. Let’s give it a try and see what happens. Will you come with us?”

  “Of course,” Allie says.

  “Do you want me to come?” Joel asks Allie.

  She hesitates a moment, and then says, “Why don’t you hold down the fort here at home for now. If I need you, I’ll call.”

  “Okay,” Joel says, sounding dejected. He punctuates his comment with a long slug of beer.

  I turn to Devo. “There isn’t room in your car for all of us to ride, so why don’t I ride to the ER with Allie in her car and Roscoe can ride in the back seat with Danny. You follow us and meet us there, okay?”

  Devo looks unsure of this arrangement. “What if the guy goes off again?”

  “He won’t. Look at him.” Devo does, and I can tell from his expression that he’s relenting. “It’s what, a five-minute drive at most? We’ll be fine, but you can stay right behind us just in case, okay?”

  “Fine,” Devo says with lingering reluctance. “But you better be right about this. The chief said your safety is our responsibility, so if anything happens to you, my butt is in a sling.”

  I see Allie give me a curious look. “Yeah, so why are you here with the cops?” she asks. “I mean, I’m glad you are but we don’t usually see you outside of the hospital.”

  “I’m here because it’s part of my new job, a second job really, because I still work at the hospital. It’s a new program that the police department is launching called Helping Hands and it involves me and Roscoe riding around with them and offering up whatever services might be useful to the community at large, at least the parts of it that are dealing with the police. We can provide counseling, referrals, resources... that sort of thing.” I pause and glance into the other room at my dog, still stretched out alongside Danny. “And, of course, Roscoe provides his own unique service.”

  “And a valuable service it is,” Allie says, walking over and looking through the doorway at her brother. She studies the tableau for a few seconds and then says, “I think the program is a great idea. And I think you’re the perfect woman for the job.”

  “Yeah, if she doesn’t get herself killed,” Devo grumbles.

  “My brother is not a violent person, at least not intentionally,” Allie protests, her hackles rising.

  “It’s the unintentional that worries me,” Devo says.

  “I’ll be fine, Devo,” I insist. “I took that self-defense class, and I have my pepper spray if I need it. But I won’t.” I’ve spent the past two weeks going through training for the new job: learning police procedures, taking self-defense classes, and getting taught basic safety measures.

  Devo gives me his best skeptical look, one that says he’s smelling cow dung and lots of it. “I know you,” he says. “You won’t use that pepper spray with your dog in the car, so, don’t imply that you will.”

  “If it’s a matter of life and death, I most certainly will,” I tell him in my most convincing voice. “But trust me, everything will be fine.”

  Famous last words.

  Chapter 2

  Danny is subdued as we walk him out to the car and
settle him in the back seat with Roscoe. I strap Danny in, and Roscoe stretches out on the seat beside him, his head in Danny’s lap. I don’t have the means to strap Roscoe in but given the short drive and the fact that we won’t be going much over twenty-five miles an hour, I think it will be okay. Hopefully, Allie is a good driver.

  As soon as Allie and I are strapped into our respective seats in the front, she starts the car, backs out of her driveway, and pulls out at a nice, leisurely pace.

  “How often do you ride around with the cops?” she says, once we’re on the street.

  “For now, I’m doing four shifts a week, Thursday through Sunday, from eleven at night until seven in the morning. My hospital hours got cut back some, so I don’t work Fridays there now. Overall, the two jobs mesh well. It’s going to be a little dicey on Thursdays because I have to work my regular hospital hours and then in the evening, when I could potentially sleep before the cop gig, I have my grief support group. By the time I get done with everything on Friday mornings, I will have been up for over twenty-four hours.”

  “Yuck,” Allie says. “That must be hard to do.”

  “I’m hoping it will get easier,” I say with a chuckle. “Last night was my first Thursday into Friday shift and I managed okay, but I was also excited about starting the new job and I think that gave me a bit of extra oomph. Once the newness wears off, I might have to rethink things. Maybe my grief support group will be willing to change the night we meet to Tuesday or Wednesday.”

  “Well, I’ll say it again. I think it’s a great idea to have you riding around with the cops. I know they mean well, but they just don’t get Danny and his illness. There have been some difficult and scary confrontations in the past.” She flips on her turn indicator—something I’m starting to think is a rarity among drivers these days—and takes a shortcut down a road that backs along the river and skirts along the length of the city cemetery.

  I hear a whine from the back seat and I’m not sure if it came from Danny or Roscoe. When I turn to look, I see Danny’s eyes widen with fear as he stares out his side window at the cemetery. Crap! Clearly the drive past the cemetery wasn’t a good choice given Danny’s issues, but it didn’t register with me at first, and obviously it didn’t register with Allie either.

  Danny starts breathing faster, and shallower, moaning slightly.

  “Danny, it’s okay. There’s nothing there,” I say, twisting my body around so I can see him.

  Roscoe pushes his head higher onto Danny’s lap, but there’s no comforting him at this point.

  “Look!” Danny whispers, pointing toward the cemetery. “There he is.” His voice breaks and he is practically whimpering. One hand reaches for the door handle. I sense he’s ready to whip that door open and jump out of the car, an insane and illogical move if he thinks the ghost is here. His chances of escape are far better in a car, but logic isn’t putting in much of an appearance for Danny right now.

  I reach back and take hold of the wrist closest to me, knowing that if Danny makes up his mind to bolt, I won’t be able to stop him. But I’m hoping my touch will have a steadying, grounding effect. “Danny, look at me,” I say in my best commanding voice. “Right now! Look... at... me.”

  He doesn’t. His eyes are glued to the cemetery. Allie has slowed the car down to nearly a crawl and I fear she’s about to pull over. Part of me thinks that’s a smart move in case Danny does try to jump out, but another part of me realizes that we need to get as far away from the cemetery as we can, as soon as we can.

  Behind us, Devo turns on his lights.

  “Danny, look at me!” I say again, more sternly this time. I squeeze his hand hard to try to break his concentration on the cemetery. This works. He turns and looks at me, his eyes wide with fear. Beads of sweat have broken out on his forehead, and his color is so pale he looks like a ghost himself.

  “Allie, drive.” I say. “Get us past this cemetery.”

  She does what I tell her, hitting the gas and making the car lurch forward. To an outsider watching all of this, it would look like Devo is trying to do a traffic stop, and we, the culprits, have just decided to run. Fortunately, Devo doesn’t make any other maneuvers to stop us, though he does keep his lights on. At least he isn’t using the siren. Not only might it attract unwanted attention, I have a feeling the sound of it would escalate Danny’s panic.

  “It’s okay, Danny,” I say in my best soothing voice. “You’re completely safe here. Roscoe is with you and he’ll protect you.”

  Danny stares at me but I don’t think he sees me. All he sees are the frightening images playing out in his head. But at least the hand that was on the door moves away from the handle.

  “You’re safe and you’re okay,” I repeat. “We’ll be at the hospital in another minute or two and then we can get you checked out, look at your meds and make sure everything is the way it needs to be, okay?”

  Danny doesn’t answer, but his breathing slows and a hand settles on Roscoe’s head and begins stroking the soft fur there.

  I glance off to the side and see that Allie is turning into the parking lot of the hospital. She pulls up to the entrance to the ER and shifts the car into park.

  “We’re here,” I tell Danny. He seems calm, so I undo the latch on my seatbelt and turn around to face front. I’m out of the car in seconds and opening the back door beside Danny. Devo has pulled up behind us and he’s already out of his car standing next to me. I take Danny’s hand and give Roscoe a sideways head nod. Roscoe backs off Danny’s lap, rising to a sitting position beside him. I tug gently at Danny’s hand and he climbs out of the car.

  “What happened back there?” Devo asks.

  “Just a moment of panic. We got through it fine. Can you put Roscoe back in your car?”

  Devo hesitates, frowning. I’m not sure if he’s put out by the fact that I’m giving him directions and not filling him in on exactly what happened, or if he’s worried about not accompanying me when I take Danny inside.

  “Everything is under control,” I tell Devo. I look up at Danny, who is standing beside the car’s back door, staring off into space, chewing on the side of his thumbnail. “Ready to get things straightened out, Danny?” I say.

  He nods, still chewing, his eyes scanning the surrounding area.

  Devo hesitates a few seconds longer, his scowl deepening, but then he sighs and turns to the inside of Allie’s car. “Come on, Roscoe,” he says, and my dog obediently hops out of the back seat and follows Devo to his car.

  I breathe a sigh of relief, whisper “good dog,” under my breath, and then Allie and I steer Danny inside to the registration area of the ER.

  * * *

  An hour later, Danny is lying on a stretcher in a glass-walled room, sound asleep. The curtains to the room are open so the ER staff and anyone else in the area can see him clearly. He’s been given a shot of medication to relax him and it’s working like a charm. Allie and I are seated in the hallway outside his room and the doctor on duty, Susan Finnegan, is listening to a brief history of Danny’s mental health issues provided by both me and Allie. She is new to the doctor’s group on staff here and doesn’t know Danny the way some of the other doctors and the nurses do. The way I do.

  “Typically, when he starts hallucinating and behaving like he did tonight it’s because he’s off his meds,” I explain. “Though his reaction tonight is a little different from his usual. Danny typically has auditory hallucinations, the classic schizophrenic voices in his head. To my knowledge he’s never had a visual hallucination before, so that’s new. Right Allie?”

  She nods, looking worried, and chewing on the side of her thumb the same way her brother had earlier.

  “Allie has assured me that she’s been checking his pill dispenser every day to make sure the meds are being taken,” I go on. “And ever since they changed Danny’s meds a few months ago, he’s been good about taking them. He tended to stop them before because they made him feel so dead and leaden, but he says the new ones
don’t do that.”

  “Just because the pills are no longer in the slots in the pill dispenser doesn’t mean he’s actually taking them,” Dr. Finnegan says. “He might be removing them from the dispenser and flushing them down the toilet. Do you watch him swallow the pills?” she asks Allie.

  Allie is staring off into space, her mind clearly elsewhere, and she doesn’t answer. Dr. Finnegan looks at me over Allie’s head and arches her brows.

  “Allie,” I say, nudging her with my arm. “Dr. Finnegan asked you if you watch Danny actually swallow the pills each day.”

  Allie blinks several times rapidly and stares at first me, then the doctor. “Sorry,” she says. “And no, I don’t watch him swallow them. I leave for work earlier than him so I’m not there to supervise him. Besides, he doesn’t like it when I treat him like a child. I do ask him every day and he’s said he has. He’s not a very good liar and I can usually tell when he’s trying to put one over on me.”

  “Maybe he isn’t lying,” Dr. Finnegan suggests. “Maybe he thinks he has taken the pills. If he’s imagining ghosts and people getting murdered, it’s not much of a leap to think that he might be imagining that he takes his pills.”

  Allie frowns and looks like she’s about to say something, but then she bites it back. Her eyes go to the floor.

  Dr. Finnegan watches her with a concerned expression. “Do we need to look at placement somewhere for Danny?” she asks softly. “Even if it’s only temporary. Perhaps it’s not wise for him to be at your house right now.”