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Her lips part, as if she’d say something, but she’s quick to shut them. “Should I get you a pen and paper?” I ask her, but she only shakes her head again, falling back to her side and tucking her hands under her head. I leave her there, staring at the empty chair.
I’m still thinking of her when I enter the last door. Melody’s room. Which is why I nearly scream and throw my tray at the sight of a man at the end of her bed.
Thump, thump. My chest hurts from the sudden pounding.
What the hell is he doing here? It takes me more than a second to note his uniform. “Officer,” I greet the man as he holds his hands out in defense.
“Nurse Roth,” he says and his voice is gruff at first, but his tone and demeanor apologetic. He clears his throat, and it’s only then that Melody looks up at me. She’s in her young twenties and on antipsychotics. She’ll more than likely be on them all her life. When she tilts her head at me as I glance between the two of them, her straight blond hair falls over her shoulder. A lock slips into her loose blouse, so loose I can see straight down and I know she’s not wearing a bra. Knowing Melody, that large gray shirt is probably all she’s wearing, even with this officer in the room.
It’s then that I see the name tag: Walsh. Holy fuck!
“Melissa showed me in,” the policeman explains, rising from his chair. The legs drag against the floor as he stands, pushing the chair back. With his hand held out, he introduces himself to me. “Officer Walsh.”
The cold sweeps along my shoulders and down my back as I take his hand.
“You can call me Laura.”
This is the first time we’ve met, although I know all about him from Delilah’s notebook. She drew a picture of him once and I’m shocked to see how much the man in front of me looks like the sketch, but older. Years and years older.
He’s good looking to say the least. Although obviously tired. The darkness under his eyes doesn’t distract in the least from his pale blue eyes. I may remember pieces of what Delilah wrote about him, but I’ve heard other things recently. Whispers from patients who talk about Marcus. They say Walsh is a dead man for coming down here when he should have stayed in New York.
“It’s nice to meet you, are you visiting?” I ask cautiously and he shakes his head as I thought he would.
“I have questions to ask Miss Trabott.”
Setting the tray down on the dresser I explain to him, “I don’t know that Melody is in a condition to answer any questions right now. She’s not well, on heavy psychotics.”
“I understand that,” the officer says and eyes me, looking me up and down as if he’s sizing me up. It feels like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I hope regardless of whatever he sees, he gets the impression that I’ll kick him out. I have before. Authorities can either take the patients into custody, or they can leave them alone after visiting hours. This place needs to run on a schedule and with strict procedures. Cops don’t get free rein just to visit. “Melody asked me to come in. She has information about a murder.”
Melody’s sweet when she responds, nodding and gathering her skinny legs to sit cross-legged on the bed.
“Officer, I don’t know if you’re aware—”
“A murder case she’s a suspect in… Laura.”
All of the blood drains from my face as I stand there, stunned. Melody? Murder?
“It’s not just me. He has other suspects,” Melody explains and her voice drags from the drugs. She talks slowly, but with purpose and there’s always a sweetness behind the words. When she’s alone, she rocks and hums to herself.
“Accomplices, you mean?” Officer Walsh questions her. He’s kind in the way he looks at her. As if he’s not accusing her of murder.
“They were good people. Don’t you agree?”
Walsh’s demeanor changes. “They were, but a priest is dead.”
“Officer,” I interrupt, the cup of pills in one hand, and a cup of water in the other. “I don’t want to… hinder an investigation. But it’s important she take these at a certain time and if she’s being questioned—”
“I waive my rights; I don’t need a doctor or lawyer present.” Melody gives me a soft smile, as if thanking me and I ignore her.
“With all due respect, Officer, her doctor would need to approve her mental state before anything she says would be admissible in court.”
Walsh searches my gaze; it’s quiet. Too quiet. The way he looks at me, like he knows something I don’t… I don’t like it.
“I can take them,” Melody pipes up just as I part my lips to tell him he has to come back during visiting hours. She reaches up for the cups, throwing the pills back and then does the same with her cup of water. She huffs a small humorless laugh as she crumples the little white cup in her hand. “I can’t believe the priest was in there,” she whispers.
