Jonathan Kellerman – Monster

“Gone,” he said.

“The sheriff?”

“The whole damn town. It’s a retirement community now, called Fairway Ranch. Bunker does the policing. I talked to some robocop with an attitude: ‘All questions of that nature must be referred to national headquarters in Chicago.’ ”

The call to Swig connected, but when we arrived at the hospital’s front gate, the guard hadn’t been informed. Phoning Swig’s office again finally got us in, but we had to wait awhile before Frank Dollard showed up to walk us across the yard. This time he barely greeted us. Impending evening hadn’t tamed the heat. Only three men were out on the yard, one of them Chet, waving his huge hands wildly as he told stories to the sky.

The moment we passed through the end gate, Dollard stepped away and left us to enter the gray building alone. Swig was waiting just inside the door. He hurried us in to his office.

Now he tented his hands and rocked in his desk chair. “A box, eyes-this is obviously psychotic rambling. Why would you take it seriously, Doctor?”

“Even psychotics can have something to say,” I said.

“Can they? I can’t say I’ve found that to be the case.”

“Maybe it’s no big lead, sir,” said Milo, “but it does bear follow-up.”

Swig’s intercom buzzed. He pressed a button and his secretary’s voice said, “Bill?

Senator Tuck.”

“Tell him I’ll call him back.” Back to us: “So… all this comes via Heidi Ott?”

“Does she have credibility problems?” said Milo.

Another beep. Swig jabbed the button irritably. The secretary said, “Bill? Senator

Tuck says no need to call him back, he was just reminding you of your aunt’s birthday party this Sunday.”

“Fine. Hold my calls. Please.” Rolling back, Swig crossed his legs and showed us his

ankles. Under his blue trousers he wore white sweat socks and brown, rubber-soled walkers. “State Senator Tuck’s married to my mother’s sister.”

“That should help with funding,” said Milo.

“On the contrary. State Senator Tuck doesn’t approve of this place, thinks all our patients should be hauled outside and shot. His views on the matter harden especially during election years.”

“Must make for spirited family parties.”

“A blast,” Swig said sourly. “Where was I… yes, Heidi. The thing to remember about

Heidi is she’s a rookie, and rookies can be impressionable. Maybe she heard something, maybe she didn’t, but either way I can’t believe it matters.”

“Even though it’s Ardis Peake we’re talking about?”

“Him or anyone else. The point is, he’s here. Locked up securely.” Swig turned to me: “He’s withdrawn, severely asocial, extremely dyskinesic, has a whole boatload of negative symptoms, rarely leaves his room. Since he’s been with us he’s never shown any signs whatsoever of any high-risk behavior.”

“Does he receive mail?” said Milo.

“I’d tend to doubt it.”

“But he might.”

“I’d tend to doubt it,” Swig repeated. “I’m sure when he was first committed there was some of the usual garbage- screwed-up women proposing marriage, that kind of thing. But now he’s ancient history. Obscure, the way he should be. I’ll tell you one thing: in the four years I’ve been here he’s never received a visitor. In terms of his overhearing something, he has no friends among the other patients that I or anyone else on the staff is aware of. But what if he did? Anyone he might have overheard would be confined here, too.”

“Unless someone’s been released recently.”

“No one’s been released since Claire Argent came on board. I checked.”

“I appreciate that.”

“No problem,” said Swig. “Our goal’s the same: keep the citizens safe. Believe me,

Peake’s no threat to anyone.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Milo. “But if he was receiving mail or sending it, no one on the staff would be monitoring it. Same with his phone calls-”

“No one would officially be monitoring content unless Peake acted out, but-” Swig held up a finger, punched four digits on his phone. “Arturo? Mr. Swig. Are you aware of any mail-letters, packages, postcards-anything arriving recently for Patient

Three Eight Four Four Three? Peake, Ardis. Even junk mail… You’re sure? Anything at all since you can remember? Keep an eye out, okay, Arturo? No, no authority for that, just let me know if anything shows up. Thanks.”

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