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Chapter 33

Quinn and Amelia exited the elevator on the fifth floor of Reliance University Hospital and turned right. They passed several closed doors before stopping at the one marked “Agatha Millhouse, MN, Nurse Supervisor”. Quinn raised his fist and knocked three times.

“Looking for me?”

Quinn and Amelia turned to see a short, stout woman with black eyes and tightly curled grey hair, dressed in a dark blue skirt suit. She gazed at them expectantly.

“Uh, are you Mrs. Millhouse?”

“Ms. Millhouse, young man. Yes. How may I help you?”

Young?

“Sorry. I’m Charles Quinn, and this is Amelia Harding. We...” He caught Amelia’s dark look. “I mean, I am doing some research on a patient who was treated here about twelve years ago. The person I talked to in the administration office said you would be a good person to ask about the patient. You were working here 12 years ago, correct?”

“I have been working here for over 40 years, Mr. Quinn. You can hardly expect me to remember one patient out of the thousands that have passed through, nor expect me to discuss open cases.”

“I think you might remember this one, and the...case is long closed.”

“Which patient?”

“I’d rather discuss it in private, if that is...acceptable?”

“If we must. Please, step into my office.” She unlocked the door and led them into a modest room lined with bookshelves, lithographs, and framed certificates. Ms. Millhouse closed the door behind them, then walked to her desk and settled herself into a large, comfortable-looking chair. Quinn and Amelia seated themselves in the decidedly more uncomfortable-looking chairs opposite.

“Now, who was the patient?”

“Eleanor Eastman.”

The woman’s dark eyes narrowed and she stared at Quinn before responding.

“I remember her. Her case was not something you’d forget easily. Why are you researching that poor girl?”

“I...I’m interested in her story. The case involving her and her family, to be precise.”

“Morbid curiosity? I don’t really have time for that, Mr. Quinn. Or are you hoping to profit from the tragedy by writing a book or some other such nonsense?”

“No, nothing like that. Please, Ms. Millhouse, I would really appreciate your help. It’s very important.”

Ms. Millhouse turned in her chair and gazed out the window on the far wall, seemingly unimpressed with Quinn’s plea. She remained unmoving for several minutes until finally turning back toward Quinn.

“What do you want to know?”

“Were you here when she was brought in? What happened?”

“Yes. I remember the ER nurses talking about it. They were frankly amazed that she was still alive. They almost lost her a couple of times, but I guess she was quite a fighter. She was in intensive care for nearly four weeks.”

“What happened after that?”

“She was transferred to long-term care, up here on the fifth floor. She was healing well physically, but she was otherwise unresponsive. She had been that way ever since she regained consciousness while down in the ICU.”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘unresponsive’?”

“Exactly as it sounds, Mr. Quinn. She didn’t react to anything. She did seem to feel some pain, but her responses to it were relatively minor. She never cried, never spoke, wouldn’t voluntarily respond to aural or visual stimuli. She wouldn’t even look at the people who came to visit and speak to her.”

“Who came to visit her?”

Ms. Millhouse paused and gave Quinn a sharp look.

“Not many people. Those who came once often didn’t return. Some people just can’t take seeing something like that.”

“Something like what?”

“A person who has been completely broken. It’s a terrible thing, believe me.”

“Ah, yes, I...believe you. But the people who did come to visit...?”

“Some friends from school, I believe. She had one friend who did visit her regularly, talked to her, read to her. The girl said she wanted to be a nurse one day, that I remember.” She thought for a moment. “Rebecca Jenkins.”

Why does that name sound familiar? thought Quinn.

“Let me see. There was a cop who used to come see her, but I think he was hoping for more case information. His boss put a stop to it, eventually, and told the guy it was a lost cause.” Her expression hardened. “A really rude, coarse man. I think he was the Sheriff of some Podunk little town down south, but he certainly didn’t win on charm. The only other cop I remember was an FBI agent. He said he was part of the behavioral sciences unit and was doing research. He spoke to her for a fairly long time, but he never got a response. He asked the staff a lot of questions and I don’t think he was too happy with their answers. He was a strange fellow. Some of the nurses said he was rather creepy.”

The “boss” must have been Darrow, but who was the cop? Cambry? I’ll have to ask him when I get back. And just who was this FBI agent? Said he met him...I’ll have to ask him more about that, too.

“Did any relatives come to visit?”

“Not right away. I think the only one she had left was out of the country when she came in, and it took awhile to locate him. He visited a couple of times.”

“How did he react to seeing her?”

“He...he struck me as a man who kept his emotions inside, so he appeared calm, but I believe he was truly rattled.”

“Did you, or anyone else, supervise any of these visits?”

“Not directly, but there was always someone nearby.”

“Did anyone ask to be left alone with her?”

“Her uncle did, both times he visited. Why?”

“How soon after his second visit did she ‘disappear’?”

Ms. Millhouse stared at Quinn, an angry look in her dark eyes.

“Mr. Quinn, what is the purpose of these questions? They seem to go far beyond the bounds of research. What are you looking for, exactly?”

“I’m looking for an explanation for something inexplicable. I’m not trying to cause anyone any trouble, believe me.”

“I see.” She thought for a moment. “I couldn’t say for sure. Perhaps a week, maybe more.”

“Were you here the night she disappeared?”

“If I had been, I wouldn’t be here now. Everyone who was on duty that night was either fired, demoted, or transferred to another hospital. The administrators forbade everyone else from discussing the case. They feared legal action and wanted to keep as tight a lid on the situation as possible.” Ms. Millhouse drew a deep breath and sat up straighter in her chair as if she were prepared to rise from it. “Will there be anything else, Mr. Quinn?”

“Yes. Did you ever...suspect that the Eastman girl was not as ‘unresponsive’ as she seemed?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, was there any time when she looked as if she was more aware than she let on.”

“I do not think I understand what you’re getting at.”

“What he means,” broke in Amelia, “did you notice that she was faking the whole ‘unresponsive’ thing and planned her escape from this hospital with the help of her uncle?”

Ms. Millhouse stared at Amelia, a look of complete shock on her face.

“Is this some sort of sick joke?”

“Nope. Charlie here really believes that, don’t you?” said Amelia, turning to Quinn. He sat in stunned silence, unable to respond to Amelia’s outburst.

“In fact,” she continued, “he even believes that she is really the one responsible for killing her whole family. Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

Ms. Millhouse abruptly rose from her chair and glared down at Quinn and Amelia.

“I do not have time for this sort of sick nonsense. Please leave, immediately, before I call security.”

“Ms Millhouse, I—.” Quinn tried to stammer an apology, but it fell on deaf ears. She walked to her office door and flung it open.

“Leave. Now.”

Quinn meekly rose from his chair and left the office, followed by Amelia. The office door slammed shut behind them, and several people turned in their direction. They quickly walked to the elevator and Quinn punched the button. The doors opened, and they entered without a backward glance. As the doors slid shut, Quinn turned to Amelia in fury.

“What the HELL is the matter with you?!? You just ruined any chance I might have had of—!”

“Of what?” she shot back. “You weren’t going to find out anything because there is nothing to find! I wanted you to see how stupid the whole thing sounds. Don’t you get it? This is bullshit! All you are doing is tarnishing an innocent girl’s memory and upsetting the few remaining people who cared for her. It’s not right! What’s worse, you’re bringing attention to the old case, and sooner or later you’re going to alert the real killer. I’d rather get thrown out of a hospital by some pissed off nurse than wind up dead!”

Quinn stared at her, a welling mix of emotion rendering him speechless. He turned away from her and stared straight ahead. Amelia lowered her voice and continued.

“Look, Charlie, I know you think you’re on the right track, but...it’s just wrong. We both know there is a connection between the cases, and we really should be looking at that, not focusing on one person. Let the poor girl rest in peace.” Amelia quickly surveyed her situation before continuing. “I’ll...I’ll help you any other way I can, but not with this.”

Quinn continued to stare straight ahead, not even letting on that he had heard her. Amelia sighed in disgust. They rode the rest of the way down in silence, and when the doors opened he exited the elevator and left the building without uttering another word.



Five floors above, in the relative silence of her office, Agatha Millhouse sat motionless, staring out the window on the far wall, her thoughts focused on the events of twelve years ago. She had believed the issue was long buried, and yet here it was again. Some things can never really be forgotten, she mused. She turned back to her desk and opened her rolodex, withdrawing a card with a simple printed message and phone number. After staring at the card for a long time, she set it on her desk, withdrew her cell phone from one of the drawers, and flipped it open. With a distinct feeling of unease she began to dial.

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