Blind Spot. Nancy Bush
Gibby glanced around the room. His hands gripped the sides of his chair. Oh! There was Maribel. She was coming his way! “Go ’way,” he told her.
She strolled toward Cat, swiping at him. Gibby bared his teeth and made a face. Maribel stopped in front of Cat and stared at her. Maribel did that all the time.
“She has Zimer’s disease,” Gibby said. “Get outta here.” He flapped his hand at her but Maribel just stared and stared. Cat stared back.
Donald strolled over. “Maribel, is there a problem?”
Gibby threw him a dark look. Donald always acted so smart all the time it made Gibby uncomfortable. Now he wanted to get up and go get Greg, but he wasn’t around. Darlene was there, but he never wanted her. “Go ’way!” he hissed again at Maribel, stomping his foot at her.
“Fuck you,” Maribel said.
“Oh, no,” Donald said, sliding away.
Gibby slapped his hands over his ears. She said that word. She said it to Cat! “Noooo!” Gibby wailed. “You’re mean! You’re not nice!”
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on,” Cat replied.
Gibby’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped. “Wha’d you…wha’d you…”
“Everything okay here?” It was Greg. Finally. And he was looking from Maribel to Gibby to Cat, but mostly at Gibby.
“She said…that word…”
Greg glanced at Maribel. “What word?”
Gibby pointed to Cat. “She said it, too. You know…that word!”
“The f-word?”
Gibby nodded furiously, his finger shaking as he kept it directed at Cat. “She said, ‘Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.’”
Greg shot a look at Cat and then demanded, “Where did you hear that, Gibby? Who said it?”
“She did!”
“I mean it. Who said it? Maribel?” Greg looked mad. He shook his head and took hold of Maribel’s arm, trying to direct her away from Cat. “Was it Thomas?”
Gibby blinked a couple times and gazed at Thomas McAvoy, who was watching them with laser eyes. “No! He says that, too, but it was Cat!”
“Well, whoever said it, don’t say it again.” Greg was looking at Gibby as if it was all his fault!
Greg tried to move Maribel but she pulled her shoulders in and shrank down. She always did that. After a few moments Greg let go and went over to Thomas McAvoy, whose face looked just like those dead guys on TV. He was scary, too.
“You got me in trouble,” Gibby moaned to Cat. He felt a little like crying.
She was still staring at Maribel, who was pulling at her hair and looking at the floor.
Gibby got up and tried to shove Maribel to one side. Maribel slugged him in the arm and jumped into his chair.
With a howl, Gibby launched himself at her and then Greg reappeared with Darlene and even Donald came back, too.
“Tsk, tsk,” Donald said.
“What is with you, Gibson?” Darlene asked. “Ever since Cat got here, you’re starting trouble.”
“Not me!” Gibby cried.
“He repeated something Thomas said.”
“Maribel said fuck you first!” Gibby screamed.
“Fuck you!” Maribel shrieked right back.
For the second time in two days Gibby was hauled off to his room. He cried all the way, looking back at Cat. He watched her head turn as she examined the front door.
“She’s my friend,” he whimpered. “I need to help her.”
But Greg and Darlene, the witch with a capital B, wouldn’t listen to him.
Pauline Kirby touched at her dark hair, but every strand was held in place by one of the best hair sprays on the market. Super hold. Super expensive. But the best was the best, and Pauline liked the best. Pressing the pad of her little finger to the corner of her mouth, she looked into the hand mirror and tried on a smile. Her makeup was fresh. She looked good.
“Here.” She handed the mirror to a production assistant. A gofer who hurried forward. A new one, she was pretty sure. They all looked the same. She could never remember their names and had given up trying. Long ago, she’d been the one with the eager smile and winning ways, ready to serve the talent in any way she could.
She was long over that, thank God.
Today she stood outside Halo Valley Security Hospital. Concrete and redwood in front, but the back part, the older section, was solid brick. They tried to dress up this new part: there was a portico with concrete pillars, but it still looked industrial, institutional, with maybe just a hint of architectural thought, but it sure as hell didn’t transcend to anything close to beauty.
What a sorry piece of crap, she thought. Past the first roof you could actually see the razor wire that surrounded the grounds of the second brick building, the high-security hospital. No damn laurel hedge could disguise it, though that looked to be the idea. She knew of a couple real crazies who resided there. One of ’em had the gall to write to her now and again. Really filthy stuff. She showed it to her coworkers, pretending to be unaffected. She was a newswoman. A professional. But it gave her a nasty little shiver whenever she thought of that particular monster. If they ever let him out…ever…she was going to call in every favor she’d ever been owed, and there were a number of them, to make sure he was caught and hopefully killed this time.
Coming back to herself, she shook it off. She carried pepper spray. She was safe, even if she had to remember the spray every time she went through that damn security at the airport. Moron TSA agents. Acting like she was some kind of terrorist when they ripped it away and glared at her through stupid, suspicious eyes. Twice she’d been taken to a special room and had to strip down. Sickos. Full-on bull-dyke lesbians getting a thrill to see her in her Victoria’s Secrets.
Fuck ’em all. She was important, and they were miserable larva.
“Hurry up,” she told the production crew at large. “They’re only giving us a few minutes.”
“We’re ready,” Darrell said as he hefted the camera on his shoulder. He, at least, could get the job done.
Pauline led Darrell through the front doors; all she needed was one cameraman for the interview. She’d been granted access, but still needed to bully her way past all the hospital security. To that end, she smiled at the woman at the desk, who pressed some button and opened the doors. She looked slightly alarmed, gazing through the glass doors to the van outside, then back again to Pauline and Darrell as they entered.
“Doctor Freeson invited us,” Pauline said. “He wants to get your Jane Doe’s face on camera, try to find her family members.”
The girl nodded, slowly, like the news was taking a loonngg time climbing up that neuron. “I’ll call him,” she finally said and picked up the receiver.
“We’re only here for a few minutes. We have places to be,” Pauline pressed. She glanced around quickly. Entry room. Straight ahead a main room with tables, a gathering place. Several hallways branching off north and south. Stairs sweeping grandly to an upper gallery and more hallways.
“Dr. Freeson, some newspeople are here…?”
“Pauline Kirby, thank you,” Pauline said tautly.
“Pauline Kirby,” the girl responded dutifully, but the little bitch apparently had no idea who Pauline was.
There was a brief interchange and the girl hung up, eyeing Pauline warily. “Dr. Freeson will be right here.”