The lines, the blinds are drawn
We are intimate strangers
I'm reborn, it's a false dawn
Where we've been, I forget
And Saturday's fuss is just small town lust
It's me I'm cheating
Now you're doing my head in
"Why I Hate One Night Stands", Catatonia
Jennifer swam towards the surface, light crisscrossing in a broken pattern above her head. She slowed as she reached the glassy surface, unsure if she wanted to reach the oxygen, the world. She had been here before, in the tentative space between life and death. The light of life beat a steady heartbeat above her, pulling on her very blood and willing her towards it. However, she was cool and calm and she embraced the numbness she had not so long ago tried to banish. Here, in limbo, she remembered what she had lost. A dashing husband who loved her beyond reason, who would die for her. A man she would die for-had died for. Against her will, the biology of her body betrayed her and once-again Jennifer felt Jonathan melting like a mist on a warm California morning, burning away until there was nothing left but a slight layer of humidity. She could feel his touch, hear his words, but she could not identify them.
As the beautiful eyes faded into nothingness, Jennifer became aware of a sharp, terrible pain at the back of her head. Grimacing, she tenderly touched the spot. Her fingers came away clean, which was a relief, but when Jennifer tried to stand, the world lurched sideways and Jennifer found herself back on her knees. Regaining equilibrium, she began a visual scan of her room. She couldn’t remember exactly how she’d gotten to the floor when she noticed the lockbox in the closet smashed open. Had it fallen on her head? Jennifer brought her left hand to her temple and massaged it gently. She was far too tired of memory loss to deal with the recent events and she stood carefully. Thankfully, the earth obeyed her will and stayed steady enough for her to maneuver the few feet to her dresser. She carefully inspected her face in the mirror, silently noticing the tear-tracks down her face.
"Why can’t I remember?" Jennifer hollered to the near-empty house. The other occupant, a sleeping German Shepherd, leapt at the sound of her voice. She whuffed once before settling her head back on her paws. She watched her master with concern in her almond eyes. It was never good when They started talking to themselves.
Jennifer began swiping her eyes, trying to make herself presentable. As she brought her hands up to massage her eyes, a flash glinted in the mirror. With disbelief she looked at the haunting rock on her finger. It was the ring she had been given at the hospital, one of few pieces of evidence that she had, in fact, existed prior to the last year. Jennifer stared deeply into the exquisitely cut gem, until the flashes and rainbows blended together to make a mass of light against her pale skin. She remembered being downstairs, writing about her past. She remembered coming upstairs. She had pulled down the lock box and…it all went blank. She did remember that there had been a watch in the box and Jennifer frantically searched the room for evidence of it. When she came up empty-handed, Jennifer flopped back on the bed. Pulling the large, gorgeous ring from her finger she inspected the inside. There was a J and a J inscribed. Stamped next to them was a small figure she couldn’t quite make out. The jeweler’s insignia, maybe.
An idea came to Jennifer as she lay across her large, comfortable bed. Jumping up, she jogged down the stairs two at a time, studiously ignoring the throbbing in the back of her head. She hurriedly scribbled a note to Scott apologizing in case she wasn’t home when he got there. She tossed a goodbye to the loyal dog which stood at the top of the stairs witnessing her frenzied activity. Grabbing the keys to the Jeep, Jennifer breezed out the front door on a mission.
The muted grays of hospital rooms were sterile and unfeeling and they did very little to calm the worried family members who waited impatiently in the waiting rooms. Plain slate carpeting met even plainer light-blue walls. The well-worn seats were also the same colorless shade, as were the tables, water cooler, and planters. Green-blue light buzzed from the overhead lights and lit the halls with a sickly shade. The entire hospital emanated the pallor of death, sickness and fear but Jonathan Hart didn’t notice a single detail. He walked the halls with the intensity of a man who wanted only one thing and who didn’t plan on slowing down until he found it.
Miranda Long sat at one of the plain gray desks and tapped absentmindedly at the temperamental, gray machine in front of her. Patient name, social security number, birthdate…
"Excuse me." A voice cut through her mindless work and Miranda jumped. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the rumpled suit and cold brown eyes of the man across from her.
"Excuse me." Miranda said under her breath. "Can I help you?"
"Where is Michael Hadley?" The voice was no softer and Miranda recoiled. She made a big show of checking the papers in front of her, though they both knew they would not tell her Michael’s location in the hospital.
"Why, may I ask, do you need to find him? Is it an emergency?" Miranda tapped her pen against her keyboard and regarded Jonathan with barely held contempt. People flew into the hospital all the time and made demands of her and every once in a while, it really grated on her nerves. This was one of those times.
"My name is Jonathan Hart." Miranda’s eyes widened at that. "My name is Jonathan Hart and my wife disappeared at this hospital 12 months ago. I have spent the last year of my life mourning her and now I have heard that Mr. Hadley wants to speak to me regarding information that might pertain to that disappeareance. I want to speak to him. Now."
Miranda blinked at the figure in front of her. She knew of the disappearance of Jennifer Hart, it was all over the news a year ago. They constantly flashed pictures of the beautiful couple – the stunning redhead and her delicious husband. They smiled and looked as rich, if not richer, than they were. The pictures were always professionally taken and his smile made him look soft, even cuddly. They were nothing like the man standing in front of her. The light she had seen in his eyes on the news had been extinguished. His eyes, a warm, hot chocolate brown on her small 9 inch set were now the color of burnt-out wood. His grief was like another occupant in the room and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He looked broken. Instantly, Miranda felt terrible. She looked contrite as she pointed down a hallway.
"He’s supposed to be mopping. At the end of the hall, turn left. Last door on the left is the supply closet. If you don’t run into him beforehand, he’ll be in there." She had barely finished her sentence when Mr. Hart took off with a jerky trot. She watched until he disappeared around a corner.
The large pool of blood was the first thing Jonathan noticed when he turned the corner. It was a stark, sticky red against the blue-green of the room. The puddle was blossoming outwards in grasping fingers from under the door, spreading quickly as whatever it was that was bleeding continued to pump blood. He could almost see the steady beat of a fading heart in the spreading and it spurred him into action. Paying no mind , he slid through the slimy mess. The blood was already starting to gel and coagulate, as the body worked fruitlessly to staunch the flow. Tossing open the door, a limp body fell. It had obviously been leaving against the door. Pale green eyes looked into Jonathan’s. They conveyed a mortal fear and Jonathan felt his heart clench in response.
"Bssgrrrhft." Blood bubbled from the young man’s mouth as he tried to speak. He tried again, but still his voice would not come. Jonathan’s pale face merely looked down upon the prone body, unable to react. A blood-drenched hand reached towards Jonathan’s pant leg and with the strength of a newborn baby, tugged. Jonathan recoiled as if he had been burned and he broke into a flurry of activity.
"DOCTOR! I need a doctor!" He yelled, running back down the hall to the nurse’s station. "There’s a man and he’s hurt…I NEED A DOCTOR!"
Jonathan ran back to the young man and this time he didn’t hesitate to kneel beside him. He was very young, perhaps only about 25. A simple gold band decorated his left hand and Jonathan grimaced. He reached out tenderly and felt for a pulse. Nothing.
"Oh, God, Michael…" A young brunette nurse dropped next to Jonathan and immediately began pulling off the dead man’s clothes. A flurry of doctors and nurses came up behind her and they effectively pushed Jonathan out of the way. Two orderlies flew down the hall with a stretcher and the team lifted the body onto it. The doctors were shouting for a myriad of things, stat, and the knot of people trotted down the room with the stretcher. The single brunette nurse stayed behind and stared down at the blood. She wiped her hands off absentmindedly on her uniform.
"Who was he?" Jonathan asked quietly, but he already knew the answer.
"Michael Hadley." The woman sniffed once and wiped the back of her hand across her cheek. Blood smeared and, realizing what she had done, she blanched. "I’ve seen this a hundred times over, but never someone I know. Never a friend. I…have to go."
Jonathan watched quietly as she started down the hall, first at a slow walk but breaking into a run. The door to the ladies room slammed open and she disappeared.
"Damn." Jonathan turned on his heel and started towards the elevator. Not only was yet another lead to Jennifer gone, but a young man had to die for it. Jonathan knew that whoever was concealing Jennifer’s whereabouts was serious about keeping them a secret. The elevator lurched downward and Jonathan stole a glance at his shoes. He saw the bloody handprint on his pant leg.
They are more than serious, he thought. Looking down at the drying blood, Jonathan hoped he wasn’t too late.
