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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Timeline – This prequel to Season One takes place about one year before Jarod’s escape and includes flashbacks to the children’s’ past.
Keywords –Sydney, Raines, Alicin, Patrice
Summary: Everything that can hit the fan does!
Author’s Note: The town of Moena that is mentioned in this chapter exists and is located in the Dolomite mountains of the Italian Alps. The real DellAntonio family owned an inn there and one-by-one, 5 brothers came to America to work as stonemasons in Washington DC , each brother accumulating the cost of passage and sending it home to the next. They apparently all died before they could bring a 6th brother to join them. This last brother stayed in Moena and ran the family inn. In honor of their Italian heritage, the DellAntonio family of Clearfield, PA named their restaurant ‘Moena’ which serves Italian fare that will make you forget you ever heard of spaghetti and pizza! You can check out the menu at www.moenas.com. The town’s official website is www.comune.moena.it. And finally, for a quick tour of the Dolomites, go to www.dolomiti.it . But read the story first!
Alicin Wonderland
By Lizz Part 11
Bad Boys, Bad Boys…
He could hear the muffled voices on the other side of the door and listened for several minutes to determine the tenor of the conversation since he could not make out the words. It was taking every bit of Sydney’s self-control to keep from bursting through the door and pummeling William Raines. He steadied himself slightly with a few deep breaths. Then he knocked sharply on the door and thrust it open without waiting for an invitation to enter.
Inside, Patrice was seated at her desk with Raines in a visitor’s chair opposite. She was out of her seat and halfway across the room in an instant to greet the newcomer. Raines saw only Patrice’s back as she graciously invited Sydney to join them, but the infirmary doctor’s eyes were imploring her friend to stay and follow her lead in the conversation. Sydney gave a slight frown, and then pushed past the doctor to get to Raines.
“You are deliberately violating our agreement concerning my patient, Raines! Alicin is to have no contact with you or your staff before next Friday!” The intensity of his voice was increasing and he was shaking his fist at the man. “How dare you? I could call security right now and have you thrown out on your ear!” Sydney’s face was darkened with anger and indignation and something else that Patrice could not identify.
Raines stood to face his adversary, equally incensed. “I’m here for an update on my researcher’s physical condition. I’ve been alerted that there may have been an assault. If it’s true, there will be an inquiry.” His tone grew ominous. “And I insist that any investigation be conducted in-house. I have a right to see that evidence. After that, I’ll leave of my own accord.”
“You have no right to deman-“
“Stop it! Both of you!” Patrice shouted over the din. “Sit down and be quiet!” They turned to look at her, but neither moved. “Now!” The two men sat down immediately, regarding her with shock and amazement, and did not say another word.
Patrice stepped between her two visitors, now seated. The testosterone level in the small office had finally reached critical mass, she had concluded, and it was time to act before the two adversaries did something that she would later regret. Leaning against the front of her desk, the doctor started to speak in a voice that was firm and commanding. “You sound like two strays fighting over a bone! One more display like that and I’ll personally put both of you out of my infirmary on your respective asses and see that you lose laboratory time and hospital privileges.” She let out a sharp sudden huff before continuing. “I agree with Bill that we need to discuss Alicin’s status. But that’s not going to happen until you so-called gentlemen start acting the part! Are we clear on that?” No response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She took in a slow, noisy breath and let out a measured sigh. “It’s late,” she continued. “I suggest we go splash some water on our faces, get a cup of coffee and reconvene here in ten minutes to discuss the matter at hand. After you, gentlemen.” Raines squeaked across the room first, followed by Patrice and finally Sydney. They turned right and right again toward the lounge and proceeded down the hall in silence. If I’d wanted to be a dog trainer, Patrice groused to herself, I would have joined the circus.
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The scene in the men’s washroom was comical, despite the fact that the players were steeped in anger and suspicion. Raines stopped in front of the first urinal, while Sydney strode to the last fixture in the row. Despite their best efforts to avoid it, the two ended up at the sink within seconds of one another. Sydney took a leisurely amount of time washing his hands before turning on the solitary blow dryer on the wall. When Raines had finished washing, he pressed the button to activate the same dryer and nothing happened. Sydney let out a soft snuffle. He turned toward Raines, just on the border of the other man’s personal space. With one fluid motion, the psychiatrist snatched a paper towel from the wall dispenser and offered it to his adversary, who stubbornly ignored the gesture. Sydney rested his smirking gaze on Raines’ face and let the paper leaflet sail lazily to the floor. Before the doctor could turn for the door, William Raines snapped a towel from the dispenser and was making as much noise with it as possible before depositing the damp litter in the receptacle beside the sink. After exiting the washroom, he followed his former colleague down the hall.
Next door, in the women’s washroom, Dr. Patrice had buried her face in a double fistful of cold, wet paper towels. Her eyes and sinuses were dry from too much indoor climate control. She had hoped to be settled at home by now, but was resigned to the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. When she did arrive home, Mister Emily, her elderly cat, would be indignant because of her absence and would ignore her for at least a whole day before remembering that he didn’t have an opposable thumb for working the can opener. Even then, she laughed quietly, he would gobble his dinner and then promptly cough it up on the living room carpet. After that, they would be even.
The trauma team doctor examined her face in the mirror as she dabbed at it with the icy towels. It was hard to intimidate anyone with her features. For one thing, her mouth seemed sensuous even when she didn’t want it to be, and now was one of those times. Decidedly, she had her mother’s Mediterranean looks with her dark skin and hair, and eyes the color of ripe olives. Her parents had met in Italy, before the war, at the International School For Advanced Studies in Trieste. Her father, an American from Chicago, was chairman of the Cognitive Neuroscience Sector. His list of research projects, publications and teaching credentials was impressive. Her mother was a resident researcher in the same Sector with an interest in somatosensory cortical information processing and plasticity. In short, they were suited for each other’s company.
Her mother’s family owned an inn in the northern mountain town of Moena, and it was there that Edgar Patrice asked Sergio DellAntonio for permission to marry his only daughter, Isabella Angelina. The courtship was a long one; complete with chaperones to accompany the couple everywhere and Edgar’s many gifts for members of the bride’s family. Over a year passed before the town gathered at the small Catholic Church in Moena to celebrate Edgar and Isabella’s nuptial mass. The reception lasted for nearly a week with relatives and friends from both sides of the Atlantic arriving and departing, leaving in their wake a swell of gifts and their best wishes. The newlyweds were banished to the nuptial rooms early, with merry instructions to not come out until they had produced an heir. From their balcony, Edgar assured everyone that they would do their very best; much to the delight of those who had gathered to serenade them that night. And it was, indeed, in one of those rooms that the couple’s first child was conceived on a candlelit night of incredibly passionate lovemaking.
It was in the same church where they were married, that Isabella and Edgar Patrice presented their newborn for baptism nine months later. After the mass, family and friends gathered under the grape arbor at the inn to have their first look at the youngest member of the DellAntonio family, Patrice Isabella Angelina Antonia Patrice. These were the same people who would celebrate her milestones and mourn her losses and pray God’s blessings upon her young life. She was a raven-haired princess who had captured their hearts.
But here she stood, in the present, tired and wanting so desperately to be curled up at home with her cat. Instead she was babysitting two old bulldogs. So she wasn’t surprised when Elinore burst through the door, looking like she’d just dodged a speeding locomotive.
“You need to come now, Doctor,” the nurse begged breathlessly. “They’re in your office at the top of their lungs! I think somebody threw a punch!”
“Oh, for...” Patrice started to say in disgust as she pitched the wet towels into the receptacle, but never finished the thought. She snatched a dry towel on her way past the dispenser and followed Elinore into the hall, hurrying toward the office. “If they break anything in there,” the nurse heard her boss threaten under her breath, “I will feed them to the fishes!”
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Dr. Patrice’s office could not contain the angry storm of words that raged inside. The weary doctor leaned against the wall and took a few minutes to think about her options. She could walk in there and try to break it up. Or she could let them hurt each other for awhile and then try to break it up. Or she could call security, walk away, and let them break it up. But then, she had never walked away from a fight in her life and, because Alicin was officially on her turf, this was her fight. Oh, hell, she thought, why not?
“Elinore, go stay with Alicin, just in case these two do something really stupid. She’s had enough excitement today,” Patrice sighed. The nurse nodded and started down the hall in the direction of the elevators. “Naomi and Jo, you’re going in there with me. Are you both okay with that?” They looked at each other, then at their boss and nodded. “Jo, do you think you can handle Sydney? Keep him away from Raines?”
“Yes.”
“Naomi, you and I will take care of Mr. Raines. Our goal is to get them away from each other. Use talk or passive restraint when you can; we’ll sit on them if we have to. I suspect that the worst these two have for each other is a fat lip or a bloody nose.”
Just then they heard a loud crack followed by the sound of breaking glass and heavy objects landing on the carpet inside the office. Patrice ran for the door, followed by Naomi and Joanna.
Inside, Raines had thrown a heavy bookend from Patrice’s desk at Sydney, who had leaned out of harm’s way at the last moment. Instead of hitting its intended target, the alabaster elephant had crashed into one of the framed lithographs, shattering the glass and sending the prized artwork to the floor. Raines then wrapped his hands around Sydney’s neck and squeezed surprisingly hard for a man in his condition, unbalancing his opponent backward onto the glass surface of their host’s desk. With a burst of strength, Sydney threw off his attacker, toppling him onto the carpet beside his oxygen tank. The psychiatrist shifted a cold gaze from the tank to its owner and then, very deliberately, he stood on the man’s lifeline.
Raines’ eyes were wide with fright. “What are you doing, Sydney? For god sake, man!” Gasping, he clutched at the doctor’s pant leg in an effort to free his oxygen line.
Sydney’s smile was almost feral. “We’re going to review the terms of our agreement, Mr. Raines.”
Now panting, Raines reached for the small portable tank attached to the back of the cart, only to have his arm slapped away. “You won’t get away with this!” the man on the floor growled, trying to convince himself of that point. It was at that moment that the door opened and the three women from the hall spilled into the room, just in time to see William Raines reach inside his jacket and draw his sidearm.
Several things happened at once. The three intruders shouted a chorus of, “Nooooo!” Raines took aim at Sydney and started to squeeze the trigger. Joanna launched at Sydney to knock him out of the line of fire. Patrice and Naomi lunged at Raines in an attempt to divert the bullet. A single shot rang out. The gun vaulted into the air, coming to rest in front of the door to the adjoining room. Naomi spun away from the pack and dropped facedown on the floor. Finally, everyone settled, motionless, on the carpet.
In an instant, Sydney was back on his feet, his nine-millimeter Beretta pointed at Raines’ heart. A groan drew attention to Naomi. She was sitting up behind Raines, pressing her hand over the left sleeve of her nurse’s uniform, as dark blood began to seep through her fingers.
“Sydney?” Patrice began, eyes pleading.
“Take care of her!” he snapped in reply, eyes never leaving the man on the floor before him.
“Jo,” Patrice started cautiously, watching the two men for any hint of further hostility, “get Naomi to a treatment room and take care of that, okay?” Then she added in a whisper, “Get the gun while you’re at it and lock it up.”
“Yes, Doctor,” came the soft reply as Joanna moved quickly to pocket the firearm before kneeling at Naomi’s side and helping the tall woman to her feet. They were out of the office in next to no time.
“Patrice!” Raines croaked, gasping to regain his breath as he pleaded with her to intercede on his behalf with the man who now held a gun on him.
“Quiet!” roared Sydney.
“What is going on here?” Patrice demanded, truly puzzled and alarmed by the scene unfolding before her. “Look at yourselves! Sydney? Please! Put the gun away”. She studied her friend’s face as she prayed that he was listening to her words, but he was looking straight at Raines, who couldn’t even blink. “Sydney?” she said softly, but his mind was somewhere else.
Mama, I wish you were here now, the doctor thought soberly, seeing in a flash the house in Trieste where, as a child, she had spent many nights on the top stair step to hear her parents solve problems and share their wisdom about life and living. You’d know what to do about this. You’d know three things to do, so I’d have a choice! She smiled slightly at the notion, and then continued to assess her situation: Jo is taking care of Naomi and Sam; Elinore is with Alicin, so there’s no one next door; Earl is off duty (Poor baby will be sorry he missed this!); the others on duty know better than to come in without knocking; and everybody else is home in bed like normal people. So the bottom line is this: I have these boys all to myself, there’s only one gun and I have a little pull with the guy holding it. Raines is unarmed, a coward, and too weakened put up any further resistance. She pondered for a minute and then, suddenly, a plan presented itself.
=====
Unused Office
Near The Elevators
“Gunshot!” Alicin shrieked and dove for cover under the wooden desk, leaving Elinore in a half-crouch, trying to figure out what had just happened.
“Move over, Alicin, I’m coming in!” the forensic nurse whispered hoarsely as she dropped on all fours and crawled under the desk to sit beside the frightened young woman. “That sounded like a nine-millimeter, Centre issue.”
“How would you know that?” Alicin challenged.
“I did my forensics internship with the Pennsylvania State Police Crime Lab. Really interesting work, once they got past all the crap about my being a rookie and female. My first week, a trooper brought me some tissue samples to analyze. He told me they were from a shooting. Turned out the tissue samples were from a boneless chuck roast. Like I wasn’t going to notice the difference! Can you imagine? This grown man walks into a grocery store, buys a ten-dollar roast, takes it out in the woods and shoots it, just so he can make me look like an idiot!”
“And that’s how you know it’s a nine-millimeter?” Alicin asked dryly.
“Well, no,” Elinore put in quickly. “I spent a lot of time in the ballistics lab, firing rifles and handguns into tanks of water and retrieving the slugs for comparison with crime scene evidence. There was this game we played in the break room, just down the hall from the tanks. Between shifts, we’d try to guess the make and caliber of the weapons fired just by listening. You got a point for each one and an extra point if you got both. We checked our guesses against the logbook. Sometimes we’d bet on it. I usually won.”
Alicin couldn’t guess where this conversation was going or when it would arrive, but her mind was no longer down the hall with Mr. Raines. And that was a good thing, to Elinore’s way of thinking.
“That’s how I got really good at identifying make and caliber,” Elinore wound down. “And that’s how I know it’s a nine-millimeter, Centre issue!”
“Good for you,” was all Alicin could think to say. The two fell into silence again, hugging their knees as they sat under the wooden desk in the dark.
=====
Dr. Patrice’s Office
Slowly and deliberately, Patrice sank to one knee in front of Raines and checked his oxygen line and the gauge on his tank, the Beretta now pointed at her back. Very quietly, she asked questions intended to assess his condition. Then without looking at Sydney, she helped Raines to his feet and insisted quietly that he resume his seat in the visitor’s chair in front of her desk. She turned to face her friend and said nothing for a moment.
Sydney spoke first. “Get out of the way, Patrice.”
But the doctor kept her feet firmly planted on the carpet. “If you want to kill him, Sydney, that bullet will have to go through me first,” she said as calmly as she could manage.
“Trust me, Patrice, he’s not worth your life.”
“Or yours, Syd. That’s what you’re throwing away if you pull that trigger. Think about consequences, for god sakes! This will never see the inside of a Delaware courtroom! You’re looking at a very long stay in the Renewal Wing! Think of your work here. Think of Alicin. Think of Jarod! What happens to Jarod when you’re gone? What then?”
Patrice turned her back to Sydney and whispered to Raines as she fussed over tubing that required no fussing. “Your best chance for surviving this, Bill, is to sit there and do not say or do anything to draw attention to yourself.” Then she narrowed her eyes, dropped the pitch of her voice and continued, “Oh. And for the record, Bill, I hold you responsible for this mess. You just couldn’t let well enough alone,” she accused. The man opened his mouth to defend himself and was immediately silenced by a frosty look from the good doctor. “Now, stay!” Her hand was extended in the animal training hand gesture for that command before she even realized it. Maybe years from now she would remember the moment and laugh. For the present, however, she was scared spitless.
“I’ll ask you one time, Patrice,” Sydney spoke. “Please, move out of the way.”
“Or what, Syd? You’ll shoot me, too?” Patrice gently countered. “You just said that he’s not worth my life. Now you’re actually considering…” she waved a hand in the air in frustration, “I can’t finish that thought. It’s too obscene.” Silence covered the room for longer than was comfortable before Patrice spoke again. “Do what you think you have to, old friend, but I won’t help you kill him.”
The room fell quiet once more, save for Raines’ shallow wheezing. Patrice was about to make another plea, when she saw Sydney remove a supporting hand from the Beretta and then lower the piece to his side. He was still poised in a shooter’s stance, a line of perspiration on his upper lip, despite the coolness of the room.
“Sydney, are you okay?” Patrice approached him slowly, moving to his side to retrieve the gun.
“Yes, Patrice,” he replied, anger seething beneath his surface calm, perspiration now forming on his forehead. Swiftly and without warning, Sydney raised the Beretta again and drew a bead on his adversary, Raines, who cried out in alarm and shifted so suddenly in his chair that it toppled to the floor with him in it. With a smirk on his face, Sydney advanced on his target, placed the muzzle over Raines’ heart and squeezed the trigger. There was a wail of agony followed by Patrice’s shriek of horror in response to the gun’s single staccato click.
Raines recovered quickly from his fear and raged, “You threatened me with an empty gun! You son of a…” His tirade was cut short by a deafening explosion and the sight of a cloud of carpet fibers floating around him. Raines, and now Dr. Patrice, cowered; staring dumbfounded at the man they thought they knew.
Leaning close to Raines’ paler-than-usual face, Sydney whispered, “First rule of gun safety, Mr. Raines. Never chamber the first round.” He ejected the clip into Raines’ wet lap and handed the gun to Patrice before turning to leave. Six steps from the door, he hesitated, swayed slightly and promptly crumpled onto the floor like a discarded jacket.
Patrice pulled the cell phone from her belt and pushed the speed dial button that would summon the EMT to her office. She was at Sydney’s side in an instant and pulled on gloves from her pocket before rolling him onto his back. Placing two fingers over his carotid artery, she found a weak, racing pulse. She laid her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat and was not pleased with the rhythm. The front of his sweatshirt was wet with perspiration and when she finally got his jacket off, the lining of that was wet as well. She could feel the heat rising from his face. Placing a hand on his forehead, she exclaimed, “You’re burning up!
“Bill, my medical bag is by the door to Alicin’s room,” she called over her shoulder. “Could you bring it here? I need to listen to his heart and get a BP, and then you can help me loosen his clothes. But get his shoes off now, please.” When there was no answer, Patrice turned toward her desk only to see the door to Alicin’s room standing open and no trace of William Raines.
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Unused Office
Near The Elevators
At the second gun blast, the wooden desk in the little office levitated slightly and came to rest a few inches to the right of its original position. From underneath came yelps of unwelcome pain and surprise as two dazed young women dragged themselves out to the middle of the dark room.
Alicin held the top of her throbbing head with both hands as she shuffled forward on her knees and collapsed, rolling onto her back. Elinore toppled over beside her, alternately holding her ears and then the top of her head.
After a long, high-pitched whine, Alicin spoke. “That really hurt!”
“Tell me about it,” Elinore exclaimed.
“I just did.” Alicin whined back in pain.
“Never mind,” groaned Elinore.
“Oooooo! Look at all the pretty lights.” Alicin sing-songed, stretching each word. She reached out her arms and tried to catch them.
“They’re stars, Alicin,” Elinore sighed, trying to be helpful. “You get hit on the head, you see stars. It’s in all the cartoons.”
“Ya see ‘em too, Elinore?”
“Naw. But I’m pretty sure I hear Elvis singin’ Blue Suede Shoes.”
“Who?”
“Elvis Pretzel,” Elinore replied with a giggle, now beginning to see a few stars herself.
“An’ he sings to shoes?” Alicin giggled, too, at the image it drew in her slightly confused mind. Then she tried to be serious again, asking with urgency, “Does he have an untreated mental illness? I did some research for NIMH on similar behavior. He certainly fits the profile for—“
“Alicin?”
“Yeah, Elinore?”
“You’re makin’ my head hurt again.”
“Sorry.”
“S’okay”
“So what was it, Elinore?”
“What was what?”
“You know! Make and caliber, Ms. Forensics-Person-Champion-Guesser- Betting… Person.”
“Oh, that. Nine-millimeter Beretta. Definitely not Centre issue.”
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End Part 11
TBC
Feedback shamelessly solicited: lizzkirsch@hotmail.com
Keywords –Sydney, Raines, Alicin, Patrice
Summary: Everything that can hit the fan does!
Author’s Note: The town of Moena that is mentioned in this chapter exists and is located in the Dolomite mountains of the Italian Alps. The real DellAntonio family owned an inn there and one-by-one, 5 brothers came to America to work as stonemasons in Washington DC , each brother accumulating the cost of passage and sending it home to the next. They apparently all died before they could bring a 6th brother to join them. This last brother stayed in Moena and ran the family inn. In honor of their Italian heritage, the DellAntonio family of Clearfield, PA named their restaurant ‘Moena’ which serves Italian fare that will make you forget you ever heard of spaghetti and pizza! You can check out the menu at www.moenas.com. The town’s official website is www.comune.moena.it. And finally, for a quick tour of the Dolomites, go to www.dolomiti.it . But read the story first!
Alicin Wonderland
By Lizz Part 11
Bad Boys, Bad Boys…
He could hear the muffled voices on the other side of the door and listened for several minutes to determine the tenor of the conversation since he could not make out the words. It was taking every bit of Sydney’s self-control to keep from bursting through the door and pummeling William Raines. He steadied himself slightly with a few deep breaths. Then he knocked sharply on the door and thrust it open without waiting for an invitation to enter.
Inside, Patrice was seated at her desk with Raines in a visitor’s chair opposite. She was out of her seat and halfway across the room in an instant to greet the newcomer. Raines saw only Patrice’s back as she graciously invited Sydney to join them, but the infirmary doctor’s eyes were imploring her friend to stay and follow her lead in the conversation. Sydney gave a slight frown, and then pushed past the doctor to get to Raines.
“You are deliberately violating our agreement concerning my patient, Raines! Alicin is to have no contact with you or your staff before next Friday!” The intensity of his voice was increasing and he was shaking his fist at the man. “How dare you? I could call security right now and have you thrown out on your ear!” Sydney’s face was darkened with anger and indignation and something else that Patrice could not identify.
Raines stood to face his adversary, equally incensed. “I’m here for an update on my researcher’s physical condition. I’ve been alerted that there may have been an assault. If it’s true, there will be an inquiry.” His tone grew ominous. “And I insist that any investigation be conducted in-house. I have a right to see that evidence. After that, I’ll leave of my own accord.”
“You have no right to deman-“
“Stop it! Both of you!” Patrice shouted over the din. “Sit down and be quiet!” They turned to look at her, but neither moved. “Now!” The two men sat down immediately, regarding her with shock and amazement, and did not say another word.
Patrice stepped between her two visitors, now seated. The testosterone level in the small office had finally reached critical mass, she had concluded, and it was time to act before the two adversaries did something that she would later regret. Leaning against the front of her desk, the doctor started to speak in a voice that was firm and commanding. “You sound like two strays fighting over a bone! One more display like that and I’ll personally put both of you out of my infirmary on your respective asses and see that you lose laboratory time and hospital privileges.” She let out a sharp sudden huff before continuing. “I agree with Bill that we need to discuss Alicin’s status. But that’s not going to happen until you so-called gentlemen start acting the part! Are we clear on that?” No response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She took in a slow, noisy breath and let out a measured sigh. “It’s late,” she continued. “I suggest we go splash some water on our faces, get a cup of coffee and reconvene here in ten minutes to discuss the matter at hand. After you, gentlemen.” Raines squeaked across the room first, followed by Patrice and finally Sydney. They turned right and right again toward the lounge and proceeded down the hall in silence. If I’d wanted to be a dog trainer, Patrice groused to herself, I would have joined the circus.
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The scene in the men’s washroom was comical, despite the fact that the players were steeped in anger and suspicion. Raines stopped in front of the first urinal, while Sydney strode to the last fixture in the row. Despite their best efforts to avoid it, the two ended up at the sink within seconds of one another. Sydney took a leisurely amount of time washing his hands before turning on the solitary blow dryer on the wall. When Raines had finished washing, he pressed the button to activate the same dryer and nothing happened. Sydney let out a soft snuffle. He turned toward Raines, just on the border of the other man’s personal space. With one fluid motion, the psychiatrist snatched a paper towel from the wall dispenser and offered it to his adversary, who stubbornly ignored the gesture. Sydney rested his smirking gaze on Raines’ face and let the paper leaflet sail lazily to the floor. Before the doctor could turn for the door, William Raines snapped a towel from the dispenser and was making as much noise with it as possible before depositing the damp litter in the receptacle beside the sink. After exiting the washroom, he followed his former colleague down the hall.
Next door, in the women’s washroom, Dr. Patrice had buried her face in a double fistful of cold, wet paper towels. Her eyes and sinuses were dry from too much indoor climate control. She had hoped to be settled at home by now, but was resigned to the fact that it wasn’t going to happen. When she did arrive home, Mister Emily, her elderly cat, would be indignant because of her absence and would ignore her for at least a whole day before remembering that he didn’t have an opposable thumb for working the can opener. Even then, she laughed quietly, he would gobble his dinner and then promptly cough it up on the living room carpet. After that, they would be even.
The trauma team doctor examined her face in the mirror as she dabbed at it with the icy towels. It was hard to intimidate anyone with her features. For one thing, her mouth seemed sensuous even when she didn’t want it to be, and now was one of those times. Decidedly, she had her mother’s Mediterranean looks with her dark skin and hair, and eyes the color of ripe olives. Her parents had met in Italy, before the war, at the International School For Advanced Studies in Trieste. Her father, an American from Chicago, was chairman of the Cognitive Neuroscience Sector. His list of research projects, publications and teaching credentials was impressive. Her mother was a resident researcher in the same Sector with an interest in somatosensory cortical information processing and plasticity. In short, they were suited for each other’s company.
Her mother’s family owned an inn in the northern mountain town of Moena, and it was there that Edgar Patrice asked Sergio DellAntonio for permission to marry his only daughter, Isabella Angelina. The courtship was a long one; complete with chaperones to accompany the couple everywhere and Edgar’s many gifts for members of the bride’s family. Over a year passed before the town gathered at the small Catholic Church in Moena to celebrate Edgar and Isabella’s nuptial mass. The reception lasted for nearly a week with relatives and friends from both sides of the Atlantic arriving and departing, leaving in their wake a swell of gifts and their best wishes. The newlyweds were banished to the nuptial rooms early, with merry instructions to not come out until they had produced an heir. From their balcony, Edgar assured everyone that they would do their very best; much to the delight of those who had gathered to serenade them that night. And it was, indeed, in one of those rooms that the couple’s first child was conceived on a candlelit night of incredibly passionate lovemaking.
It was in the same church where they were married, that Isabella and Edgar Patrice presented their newborn for baptism nine months later. After the mass, family and friends gathered under the grape arbor at the inn to have their first look at the youngest member of the DellAntonio family, Patrice Isabella Angelina Antonia Patrice. These were the same people who would celebrate her milestones and mourn her losses and pray God’s blessings upon her young life. She was a raven-haired princess who had captured their hearts.
But here she stood, in the present, tired and wanting so desperately to be curled up at home with her cat. Instead she was babysitting two old bulldogs. So she wasn’t surprised when Elinore burst through the door, looking like she’d just dodged a speeding locomotive.
“You need to come now, Doctor,” the nurse begged breathlessly. “They’re in your office at the top of their lungs! I think somebody threw a punch!”
“Oh, for...” Patrice started to say in disgust as she pitched the wet towels into the receptacle, but never finished the thought. She snatched a dry towel on her way past the dispenser and followed Elinore into the hall, hurrying toward the office. “If they break anything in there,” the nurse heard her boss threaten under her breath, “I will feed them to the fishes!”
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Dr. Patrice’s office could not contain the angry storm of words that raged inside. The weary doctor leaned against the wall and took a few minutes to think about her options. She could walk in there and try to break it up. Or she could let them hurt each other for awhile and then try to break it up. Or she could call security, walk away, and let them break it up. But then, she had never walked away from a fight in her life and, because Alicin was officially on her turf, this was her fight. Oh, hell, she thought, why not?
“Elinore, go stay with Alicin, just in case these two do something really stupid. She’s had enough excitement today,” Patrice sighed. The nurse nodded and started down the hall in the direction of the elevators. “Naomi and Jo, you’re going in there with me. Are you both okay with that?” They looked at each other, then at their boss and nodded. “Jo, do you think you can handle Sydney? Keep him away from Raines?”
“Yes.”
“Naomi, you and I will take care of Mr. Raines. Our goal is to get them away from each other. Use talk or passive restraint when you can; we’ll sit on them if we have to. I suspect that the worst these two have for each other is a fat lip or a bloody nose.”
Just then they heard a loud crack followed by the sound of breaking glass and heavy objects landing on the carpet inside the office. Patrice ran for the door, followed by Naomi and Joanna.
Inside, Raines had thrown a heavy bookend from Patrice’s desk at Sydney, who had leaned out of harm’s way at the last moment. Instead of hitting its intended target, the alabaster elephant had crashed into one of the framed lithographs, shattering the glass and sending the prized artwork to the floor. Raines then wrapped his hands around Sydney’s neck and squeezed surprisingly hard for a man in his condition, unbalancing his opponent backward onto the glass surface of their host’s desk. With a burst of strength, Sydney threw off his attacker, toppling him onto the carpet beside his oxygen tank. The psychiatrist shifted a cold gaze from the tank to its owner and then, very deliberately, he stood on the man’s lifeline.
Raines’ eyes were wide with fright. “What are you doing, Sydney? For god sake, man!” Gasping, he clutched at the doctor’s pant leg in an effort to free his oxygen line.
Sydney’s smile was almost feral. “We’re going to review the terms of our agreement, Mr. Raines.”
Now panting, Raines reached for the small portable tank attached to the back of the cart, only to have his arm slapped away. “You won’t get away with this!” the man on the floor growled, trying to convince himself of that point. It was at that moment that the door opened and the three women from the hall spilled into the room, just in time to see William Raines reach inside his jacket and draw his sidearm.
Several things happened at once. The three intruders shouted a chorus of, “Nooooo!” Raines took aim at Sydney and started to squeeze the trigger. Joanna launched at Sydney to knock him out of the line of fire. Patrice and Naomi lunged at Raines in an attempt to divert the bullet. A single shot rang out. The gun vaulted into the air, coming to rest in front of the door to the adjoining room. Naomi spun away from the pack and dropped facedown on the floor. Finally, everyone settled, motionless, on the carpet.
In an instant, Sydney was back on his feet, his nine-millimeter Beretta pointed at Raines’ heart. A groan drew attention to Naomi. She was sitting up behind Raines, pressing her hand over the left sleeve of her nurse’s uniform, as dark blood began to seep through her fingers.
“Sydney?” Patrice began, eyes pleading.
“Take care of her!” he snapped in reply, eyes never leaving the man on the floor before him.
“Jo,” Patrice started cautiously, watching the two men for any hint of further hostility, “get Naomi to a treatment room and take care of that, okay?” Then she added in a whisper, “Get the gun while you’re at it and lock it up.”
“Yes, Doctor,” came the soft reply as Joanna moved quickly to pocket the firearm before kneeling at Naomi’s side and helping the tall woman to her feet. They were out of the office in next to no time.
“Patrice!” Raines croaked, gasping to regain his breath as he pleaded with her to intercede on his behalf with the man who now held a gun on him.
“Quiet!” roared Sydney.
“What is going on here?” Patrice demanded, truly puzzled and alarmed by the scene unfolding before her. “Look at yourselves! Sydney? Please! Put the gun away”. She studied her friend’s face as she prayed that he was listening to her words, but he was looking straight at Raines, who couldn’t even blink. “Sydney?” she said softly, but his mind was somewhere else.
Mama, I wish you were here now, the doctor thought soberly, seeing in a flash the house in Trieste where, as a child, she had spent many nights on the top stair step to hear her parents solve problems and share their wisdom about life and living. You’d know what to do about this. You’d know three things to do, so I’d have a choice! She smiled slightly at the notion, and then continued to assess her situation: Jo is taking care of Naomi and Sam; Elinore is with Alicin, so there’s no one next door; Earl is off duty (Poor baby will be sorry he missed this!); the others on duty know better than to come in without knocking; and everybody else is home in bed like normal people. So the bottom line is this: I have these boys all to myself, there’s only one gun and I have a little pull with the guy holding it. Raines is unarmed, a coward, and too weakened put up any further resistance. She pondered for a minute and then, suddenly, a plan presented itself.
=====
Unused Office
Near The Elevators
“Gunshot!” Alicin shrieked and dove for cover under the wooden desk, leaving Elinore in a half-crouch, trying to figure out what had just happened.
“Move over, Alicin, I’m coming in!” the forensic nurse whispered hoarsely as she dropped on all fours and crawled under the desk to sit beside the frightened young woman. “That sounded like a nine-millimeter, Centre issue.”
“How would you know that?” Alicin challenged.
“I did my forensics internship with the Pennsylvania State Police Crime Lab. Really interesting work, once they got past all the crap about my being a rookie and female. My first week, a trooper brought me some tissue samples to analyze. He told me they were from a shooting. Turned out the tissue samples were from a boneless chuck roast. Like I wasn’t going to notice the difference! Can you imagine? This grown man walks into a grocery store, buys a ten-dollar roast, takes it out in the woods and shoots it, just so he can make me look like an idiot!”
“And that’s how you know it’s a nine-millimeter?” Alicin asked dryly.
“Well, no,” Elinore put in quickly. “I spent a lot of time in the ballistics lab, firing rifles and handguns into tanks of water and retrieving the slugs for comparison with crime scene evidence. There was this game we played in the break room, just down the hall from the tanks. Between shifts, we’d try to guess the make and caliber of the weapons fired just by listening. You got a point for each one and an extra point if you got both. We checked our guesses against the logbook. Sometimes we’d bet on it. I usually won.”
Alicin couldn’t guess where this conversation was going or when it would arrive, but her mind was no longer down the hall with Mr. Raines. And that was a good thing, to Elinore’s way of thinking.
“That’s how I got really good at identifying make and caliber,” Elinore wound down. “And that’s how I know it’s a nine-millimeter, Centre issue!”
“Good for you,” was all Alicin could think to say. The two fell into silence again, hugging their knees as they sat under the wooden desk in the dark.
=====
Dr. Patrice’s Office
Slowly and deliberately, Patrice sank to one knee in front of Raines and checked his oxygen line and the gauge on his tank, the Beretta now pointed at her back. Very quietly, she asked questions intended to assess his condition. Then without looking at Sydney, she helped Raines to his feet and insisted quietly that he resume his seat in the visitor’s chair in front of her desk. She turned to face her friend and said nothing for a moment.
Sydney spoke first. “Get out of the way, Patrice.”
But the doctor kept her feet firmly planted on the carpet. “If you want to kill him, Sydney, that bullet will have to go through me first,” she said as calmly as she could manage.
“Trust me, Patrice, he’s not worth your life.”
“Or yours, Syd. That’s what you’re throwing away if you pull that trigger. Think about consequences, for god sakes! This will never see the inside of a Delaware courtroom! You’re looking at a very long stay in the Renewal Wing! Think of your work here. Think of Alicin. Think of Jarod! What happens to Jarod when you’re gone? What then?”
Patrice turned her back to Sydney and whispered to Raines as she fussed over tubing that required no fussing. “Your best chance for surviving this, Bill, is to sit there and do not say or do anything to draw attention to yourself.” Then she narrowed her eyes, dropped the pitch of her voice and continued, “Oh. And for the record, Bill, I hold you responsible for this mess. You just couldn’t let well enough alone,” she accused. The man opened his mouth to defend himself and was immediately silenced by a frosty look from the good doctor. “Now, stay!” Her hand was extended in the animal training hand gesture for that command before she even realized it. Maybe years from now she would remember the moment and laugh. For the present, however, she was scared spitless.
“I’ll ask you one time, Patrice,” Sydney spoke. “Please, move out of the way.”
“Or what, Syd? You’ll shoot me, too?” Patrice gently countered. “You just said that he’s not worth my life. Now you’re actually considering…” she waved a hand in the air in frustration, “I can’t finish that thought. It’s too obscene.” Silence covered the room for longer than was comfortable before Patrice spoke again. “Do what you think you have to, old friend, but I won’t help you kill him.”
The room fell quiet once more, save for Raines’ shallow wheezing. Patrice was about to make another plea, when she saw Sydney remove a supporting hand from the Beretta and then lower the piece to his side. He was still poised in a shooter’s stance, a line of perspiration on his upper lip, despite the coolness of the room.
“Sydney, are you okay?” Patrice approached him slowly, moving to his side to retrieve the gun.
“Yes, Patrice,” he replied, anger seething beneath his surface calm, perspiration now forming on his forehead. Swiftly and without warning, Sydney raised the Beretta again and drew a bead on his adversary, Raines, who cried out in alarm and shifted so suddenly in his chair that it toppled to the floor with him in it. With a smirk on his face, Sydney advanced on his target, placed the muzzle over Raines’ heart and squeezed the trigger. There was a wail of agony followed by Patrice’s shriek of horror in response to the gun’s single staccato click.
Raines recovered quickly from his fear and raged, “You threatened me with an empty gun! You son of a…” His tirade was cut short by a deafening explosion and the sight of a cloud of carpet fibers floating around him. Raines, and now Dr. Patrice, cowered; staring dumbfounded at the man they thought they knew.
Leaning close to Raines’ paler-than-usual face, Sydney whispered, “First rule of gun safety, Mr. Raines. Never chamber the first round.” He ejected the clip into Raines’ wet lap and handed the gun to Patrice before turning to leave. Six steps from the door, he hesitated, swayed slightly and promptly crumpled onto the floor like a discarded jacket.
Patrice pulled the cell phone from her belt and pushed the speed dial button that would summon the EMT to her office. She was at Sydney’s side in an instant and pulled on gloves from her pocket before rolling him onto his back. Placing two fingers over his carotid artery, she found a weak, racing pulse. She laid her head on his chest to hear his heartbeat and was not pleased with the rhythm. The front of his sweatshirt was wet with perspiration and when she finally got his jacket off, the lining of that was wet as well. She could feel the heat rising from his face. Placing a hand on his forehead, she exclaimed, “You’re burning up!
“Bill, my medical bag is by the door to Alicin’s room,” she called over her shoulder. “Could you bring it here? I need to listen to his heart and get a BP, and then you can help me loosen his clothes. But get his shoes off now, please.” When there was no answer, Patrice turned toward her desk only to see the door to Alicin’s room standing open and no trace of William Raines.
=====
Unused Office
Near The Elevators
At the second gun blast, the wooden desk in the little office levitated slightly and came to rest a few inches to the right of its original position. From underneath came yelps of unwelcome pain and surprise as two dazed young women dragged themselves out to the middle of the dark room.
Alicin held the top of her throbbing head with both hands as she shuffled forward on her knees and collapsed, rolling onto her back. Elinore toppled over beside her, alternately holding her ears and then the top of her head.
After a long, high-pitched whine, Alicin spoke. “That really hurt!”
“Tell me about it,” Elinore exclaimed.
“I just did.” Alicin whined back in pain.
“Never mind,” groaned Elinore.
“Oooooo! Look at all the pretty lights.” Alicin sing-songed, stretching each word. She reached out her arms and tried to catch them.
“They’re stars, Alicin,” Elinore sighed, trying to be helpful. “You get hit on the head, you see stars. It’s in all the cartoons.”
“Ya see ‘em too, Elinore?”
“Naw. But I’m pretty sure I hear Elvis singin’ Blue Suede Shoes.”
“Who?”
“Elvis Pretzel,” Elinore replied with a giggle, now beginning to see a few stars herself.
“An’ he sings to shoes?” Alicin giggled, too, at the image it drew in her slightly confused mind. Then she tried to be serious again, asking with urgency, “Does he have an untreated mental illness? I did some research for NIMH on similar behavior. He certainly fits the profile for—“
“Alicin?”
“Yeah, Elinore?”
“You’re makin’ my head hurt again.”
“Sorry.”
“S’okay”
“So what was it, Elinore?”
“What was what?”
“You know! Make and caliber, Ms. Forensics-Person-Champion-Guesser- Betting… Person.”
“Oh, that. Nine-millimeter Beretta. Definitely not Centre issue.”
=====
End Part 11
TBC
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