said.
“Maybe. But this saves time.”
“Wonder why they don’t have a guard at the gate.” He studied the place with a cop’s eyes.
“Don’t know.” I was grateful for no guard. I’m not one for overanalyzing a situation, but this one seemed unusual.
I followed the truck until it turned at the sign marked SERVICE ENTRANCE. Gravel crunched under the tires like a giant eating stones as I drove into an empty area marked VISITOR PARKING. The drive had led us more than a quarter mile from the main road.
Flynn made me open the trunk so he could leave his gun behind. An asylum for criminals probably wasn’t the best place to carry one. I used the key and didn’t tell him that his gun storage locker would open with a good hard smack. It often popped up when I hit a bump in the road.
I had to shade my eyes against the sun reflecting from three stories of blinding white brick as we climbed the steps to the front door. Decorative metal grills covered every window, and created a cage with elaborate bars.
Flynn stopped before we entered. He stared back across the expansive stretch of green lawn. “No wonder they don’t have a guard. High-tech ground security,” he said. “See the little spikes. Sound, probably motion sensors, too. They know we’re here.”
This cop’s eyes had seen what I’d missed.
We walked inside and had to stand blind for a few moments while our pupils dilated. The vestibule contained a single spare desk, and an equally spare woman sitting behind it. Her long, bony fingers clutched a phone receiver and she radiated an unwholesome air, almost like someone worn down by a chronic illness.
“May I help you?” she asked. Her lips barely moved. “I didn’t get a call from security to—”
“We’re here to see Elise Ramekin.” I stepped up to the desk and spoke with as much authority as I could muster. She wasn’t a big woman, and that put me in the superior position of towering over her.
She hesitated, so I rushed on. “I’m a friend of her son, Michael.”
“May I see some identification?” She lifted her hand from the phone.
I dug out a driver’s license and Flynn flashed his badge and ID. Her eyes slid over my license, but lingered on Flynn’s. Flynn’s charm wasn’t like Michael’s. He had no hypnotic thing saying, Adore me, worship me. Flynn made a connection on a human level. He asked for nothing more than goodwill and, in this case, seemed to receive goodwill as requested.
“We don’t permit weapons—”
“None.” Flynn smiled. He drew back his vest to show he was unarmed. He gave her a dazzling smile. “Social visit.”
The woman almost smiled back. I probably should have let him sweet-talk her in the first place instead of playing a bully. Damn it! I’m in charge here. I glared at him and he winked. I resisted the urge to punch him.
Her eyes lingered on him as she spoke into the phone. “Mrs. Ramekin has visitors.”
A lock clicked and a door to my right opened. Two doors actually, one wood and the other behind it steel bars. A mouse-faced woman with a tag clipped to her white nurse’s uniform entered.
The receptionist waved her hand in our direction. “This nurse will escort you.” She did smile at Flynn this time.
The mouse-faced nurse, so low in the pecking order that even a receptionist didn’t introduce her by name, stepped back and motioned us to enter. She closed and locked the door behind us, and we followed her down a silent hall. Her spine was so rigid it allowed only a bare hint of movement in her hips, but practical, thick-soled oxford shoes squeaked faintly with each step on the polished wood floor.
We went through a metal detector and another barred gate. A few people walked the halls here, nurses, a janitor mopping the floor, a maintenance man with a ladder. After we passed the last checkpoint, the close halls stood empty and silent except for the squeak and shuffle of our shoes.
“This is the sun room,” Mouse Face said. Her
“Maybe. But this saves time.”
“Wonder why they don’t have a guard at the gate.” He studied the place with a cop’s eyes.
“Don’t know.” I was grateful for no guard. I’m not one for overanalyzing a situation, but this one seemed unusual.
I followed the truck until it turned at the sign marked SERVICE ENTRANCE. Gravel crunched under the tires like a giant eating stones as I drove into an empty area marked VISITOR PARKING. The drive had led us more than a quarter mile from the main road.
Flynn made me open the trunk so he could leave his gun behind. An asylum for criminals probably wasn’t the best place to carry one. I used the key and didn’t tell him that his gun storage locker would open with a good hard smack. It often popped up when I hit a bump in the road.
I had to shade my eyes against the sun reflecting from three stories of blinding white brick as we climbed the steps to the front door. Decorative metal grills covered every window, and created a cage with elaborate bars.
Flynn stopped before we entered. He stared back across the expansive stretch of green lawn. “No wonder they don’t have a guard. High-tech ground security,” he said. “See the little spikes. Sound, probably motion sensors, too. They know we’re here.”
This cop’s eyes had seen what I’d missed.
We walked inside and had to stand blind for a few moments while our pupils dilated. The vestibule contained a single spare desk, and an equally spare woman sitting behind it. Her long, bony fingers clutched a phone receiver and she radiated an unwholesome air, almost like someone worn down by a chronic illness.
“May I help you?” she asked. Her lips barely moved. “I didn’t get a call from security to—”
“We’re here to see Elise Ramekin.” I stepped up to the desk and spoke with as much authority as I could muster. She wasn’t a big woman, and that put me in the superior position of towering over her.
She hesitated, so I rushed on. “I’m a friend of her son, Michael.”
“May I see some identification?” She lifted her hand from the phone.
I dug out a driver’s license and Flynn flashed his badge and ID. Her eyes slid over my license, but lingered on Flynn’s. Flynn’s charm wasn’t like Michael’s. He had no hypnotic thing saying, Adore me, worship me. Flynn made a connection on a human level. He asked for nothing more than goodwill and, in this case, seemed to receive goodwill as requested.
“We don’t permit weapons—”
“None.” Flynn smiled. He drew back his vest to show he was unarmed. He gave her a dazzling smile. “Social visit.”
The woman almost smiled back. I probably should have let him sweet-talk her in the first place instead of playing a bully. Damn it! I’m in charge here. I glared at him and he winked. I resisted the urge to punch him.
Her eyes lingered on him as she spoke into the phone. “Mrs. Ramekin has visitors.”
A lock clicked and a door to my right opened. Two doors actually, one wood and the other behind it steel bars. A mouse-faced woman with a tag clipped to her white nurse’s uniform entered.
The receptionist waved her hand in our direction. “This nurse will escort you.” She did smile at Flynn this time.
The mouse-faced nurse, so low in the pecking order that even a receptionist didn’t introduce her by name, stepped back and motioned us to enter. She closed and locked the door behind us, and we followed her down a silent hall. Her spine was so rigid it allowed only a bare hint of movement in her hips, but practical, thick-soled oxford shoes squeaked faintly with each step on the polished wood floor.
We went through a metal detector and another barred gate. A few people walked the halls here, nurses, a janitor mopping the floor, a maintenance man with a ladder. After we passed the last checkpoint, the close halls stood empty and silent except for the squeak and shuffle of our shoes.
“This is the sun room,” Mouse Face said. Her
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