Identical concrete pathway. Bright lights from the roof yellowed five stories, creating a giant waffle of clouded windows.
Another door, identical to the main entrance.
The structure was two-faced.
A painted sign said INTAKE AND EVALUATION. A guard blocked the entry. Ten yards away, to the left, was a small parking lot, empty, separated from the yard by a chain-link-bordered path that reminded me of a giant dog run. The walkway veered, bled into darkness. Not visible as you crossed the main yard. Not accessible from the main entry. So there was another way onto the grounds, an entirely different entry.
Off to the right I saw the firefly bounce of searchlights, the outer borders of the uninhabited yard we’d seen yesterday, hints of the annex buildings. Unlit, too far to make out details. The search seemed to be carrying on beyond the annexes, fireflies clustering near what had to be the pine forest.
“How many roads enter the hospital grounds?” I said.
“Two,” said Swig. “One, really. The one you’ve taken.”
“What about there?” I pointed to the small parking lot.
“For jail buses only. Special access path clear around the eastern perimeter. The drivers have coded car keys. Even staff can’t access the gates without my permission.”
I indicated the distant searchlights. “And that side? Those pine trees. How do you get in there?”
“You don’t,” said Swig. “No access from the western perimeter, it’s all fenced.” He walked ahead and nodded at the guard, who stepped aside.
The intake center’s front room was proportioned identically to that of the hospital entrance. Front desk, same size as Lindeen’s, gunboat gray, bare except for a phone.
No bowling trophies, no cute slogans. Lindeen’s counterpart was a bullet-headed tech perched behind the rectangle of county-issue steel. Reading a newspaper, but when he saw Swig, he snapped the paper down and stood.
Swig said, “Anything unusual?”
“Just the lockdown, sir, per your orders.”
“I’m taking these people up.” Swig rushed us past a bare hall, into yet another elevator and up. Fast ride to Five, during which he used his walkie-talkie to check on the search’s progress.
The door slid open.
“Keep on it,” he barked, before jamming the intercom into his pocket. His armpits were soaked. A vein behind his left ear throbbed.
Two sets of double doors, over each a painted sign: i AND E,
RESTRICTED ACCESS. As Opposed tO what?
Where the nursing station would have been was empty space. The ward was a single hall lined with bright blue doors. Higher tech-inmate ratio: a dozen especially large men patrolled.
Milo asked to look inside a cell.
Swig said, “We went room-to-room here, too.”
“Let me see one, anyway.”
Swig called out, “Inspection!” and three techs jogged over.
“Detective Sturgis wants to see what a 1368 looks like. Open a door.”
“Which one?” said the largest of the men, a Samoan with an unpronounceable name on his tag and a soft, boyish voice.
“Pick one.”
The Samoan stepped to the closest door, popped the hatch, looked inside, unlocked the blue panel, and held it open six inches. Sticking his head in, he opened the door fully and said, “This is Mr. Liverwright.”
The room high and constricted, same dimensions as Peake’s. Same bolted restraints. A muscular young black man sat naked on the bed. The sheets had been torn off a thin, striped mattress. Torn into shreds. Royal blue pajamas lay rumpled on the floor next to a pair of blue paper slippers. One of the slippers was nothing but confetti.
I stepped closer and was hit by a terrible stench. A mound of feces sat in a drying clot near the prisoner’s feet. Several pools of urine glistened. The walls behind the bed were stained brown.
He saw us, grinned, cackled.
“Clean this up,” said Swig.
“We do,” said the Samoan calmly. “Twice a day. He keeps trying to prove himself.”
He flashed Liverwright a victory V and laughed. “Keep it up, bro.”
Liverwright cackled again and rubbed himself.
“Shake it but don’t break it off, bro,” said the Samoan.
“Close the door,” said Swig. “Clean him up now.”
The Samoan closed the door, shrugging. To us: “These guys think they know what crazy is, but they overdo it. Too many movies.” He turned to leave.