Jon Talton - The Pain Nurse

“No! Lennie wouldn’t…” He held his hands up defensively and the deputy took a step, but Will waved him back.

Will slapped down an eight-and-a-half by eleven color photograph.

“Ahhhh!” Lennie gasped. Will could also hear Cheryl Beth take a sharp intake of breath. The photo showed Jill Kelly slashed to death in her kitchen.

“No, no…that’s awful.” Lennie shook his head and turned away. His shock seemed genuine. Will replaced the photos in a folder.

“Lennie, the bad picture’s gone.” The man still avoided looking at the tabletop. “Do you remember when you had the knife, when you were in the hospital?”

“The hospital’s a good place. They help Lennie. Cheryl Beth helps Lennie.”

She said, “But you had a knife, Lennie.”

“I was afraid.”

“Were you afraid of me?” Will asked. Lennie didn’t answer. “That day we fought, you said something about the devil. Do you remember that?”

“No.”

Now Will thought he was lying. Too many years of too many lies. He had perfect pitch for it. He leaned in close. A finger’s length separated them. From that distance, the man still stank.

“Lennie, you talked about seeing the devil.” Will lowered his voice. “It’s okay, he can’t hear us. These walls are too thick.”

“No, I don’t remember.” He fidgeted, pulling on one finger, then another.

“You do, Lennie.” He was whispering now. “Don’t you want to help those pretty women? I know you do.” He paused, made the distance half a finger’s length. “Did you see the devil at the hospital, Lennie?”

The man slowly nodded.

“Where did you see him?”

“In the basement. I’m not supposed to go down there. But it’s quiet and it’s warm…”

“And you know all the hiding places, right?” Will said it as one kid admiring another’s skill. Lennie nodded enthusiastically. He had specks of yellow in his eyes.

“You saw the devil in the basement?”

“Yes.” His voice was a soft, serious whisper.

“How did you know it was the devil?”

“Blood.”

“That’s very brave, Lennie. That will help us.” Will slowly opened another file folder and began arranging photos of ten different men. Some were suspects from old crimes. One was Judd Mason. Another was Gary Nagle-this had necessitated a trip to Cheryl Beth’s house to retrieve the old lover’s shot. She had been so embarrassed that she had actually turned bright red to admit she still had it. He had told her to leave the door open and come out immediately if anything seemed wrong. He hadn’t known what he would do if he couldn’t immediately shoot someone. Fortunately, the trip to her house had been uneventful, the new locks unmolested. And she had returned with a photo of Dr. Gary Nagle. Will couldn’t see her with him. He looked like a weasel. Will set Nagle’s photo alongside the other nine.

Then he turned over the photo of Bud Chambers.

Lennie made a sound like an animal that had been shot, a half whimper and a half last breath.

Will said, “Just point if you saw any of these men down in the basement.”

Lennie’s finger shook violently, but it rested on Bud Chambers’ nose.

“You saw him in the basement, with the blood?”

“Yes.” A whisper.

“Did you think he was the devil?”

Lennie nodded emphatically.

“What did you see?”

“Blood…everywhere. It was a sacrifice.” He enunciated the word very clearly. “The devil needed blood. But I hid so he couldn’t see me. Lennie knows how to hide.”

The old homicide cop inside Will said, fuck me runnin’. Lennie had witnessed the murder. Getting a jury to believe Lennie was another matter, but for the moment Will had done as Bull had taught him so many years ago: had a theory, played a hunch.

“You’re going to be fine,” Will clapped him on the forearm, and let the deputy take him away.

Outside, Cheryl Beth finally spoke.

“That was pretty amazing, the way you did that. But as I recall that day, Lennie kept yelling that you were the devil.”

It was only when he looked at her that he saw the broad, playful smile on her face. She was beautiful.

They argued briefly at the car. Will said he wanted to try to stand by the wheelchair and let himself down in the car, instead of using the transfer board. Cheryl Beth was afraid-afraid he might fall, and that she was responsible. The sharp, cold wind was whipping around the buildings and there wasn’t time to argue long. She let him try it. Before she let him stand, she cinched the gait belt tightly around his waist, locked the wheelchair in place, and grabbed the belt tightly. Her stomach tightened in anticipation as she looked down at the big man, confined to the chair. He took a breath and stood, one fluid motion. Then he pivoted slowly to the left and dropped himself down in the car seat. She pulled the wheelchair back to the trunk and stowed it.

“You’re looking way too proud of yourself, Will Borders.” She pulled out in traffic and waited for the car heater to get warm. He just smiled.

“I’m responsible for you, you know.”

“And I’m grateful. And thank you for letting me try to do that. It’s important.”

She was grateful to be out of the jail, and drove slowly past the old industrial hulks and railroad bridges that nested above the untended streets southwest of downtown. High chain link fences were topped with rusty concertina wire. Seeing Lennie again brought back the awful fight in the hospital. Watching the way Will worked intrigued her-it was like a window into a totally different world. But it didn’t make sense. It just didn’t.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, noting her silence.

“Who was that, in the picture Lennie pointed to?”

“A man named Bud Chambers. A former cop. Bad actor.”

“Chambers?”

“He was Theresa Chambers’ husband-estranged husband. We always thought he did it. He was our first suspect.”

Will told her about Chambers, while she remembered what Gary had said that first night, about the husband always being the prime suspect. She felt so tight inside, like all her organs had compressed together and were being wrapped around like the rubber band that propelled a child’s plywood airplane.

“So you thought he would pick him.”

“Yes,” Will said. “But I had to do it right, run it with several mug shots. I’ve been wrong before.”

“Really? You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

He seemed abashed. She laughed. “It’s fun to see you in your element.” He was sensitive. That was a nice quality in a man, especially a cop. But she switched to a serious voice.

“Did you show him pictures of Judd and Gary?”

“I did. He just glazed over, like he didn’t know them. The same with the other pictures. He only recognized Bud Chambers.”

“So why didn’t you arrest this Chambers in the first place?” Cheryl Beth asked.

“We worked it hard, and then we caught Craig Factor and the semen from Theresa matched.”

“But you were never convinced?”

“No. I knew some corrupt cops were covering for him. It’s not like this never happens. A few years ago, a cop was messing around with his wife’s sister. The sister knifes the wife to death-her own sister. We always thought the cop was present at the homicide and covering for his sister-in-law. Some of his buddies-rotten cops-gave him an alibi. Then they hired a lawyer, a former corrupt cop himself, and he gets the cop off and gets a sweetheart deal for the sister-in-law. When I joined Internal Investigations the guy retired. He came up to me and said he knew I was going to get him, and he was right. So this stuff happens. It did with Bud Chambers.”