Chapter Twenty Seven

                  David awoke in the hospital with an intravenous tube in his arm and his limbs restrained. Groggily he became aware of his surroundings. He could also see the silhouette of a uniformed policeman through the vertical glass window that every hospital room door seemed to have. Greta was sitting in the bedside chair, her eyes bloodshot and tired.

                  With a raspy voice, David tried to get Greta’s attention. “Is he here to keep me in or to keep others out?”

                  “You need to rest, David. Don’t give him a thought.”

                  “Okay. So you’ve answered that question.” Greta held a cup of water to his lips. David sipped for a second and closed his eyes. “What am I charged with?”

                  “Let’s not worry about that now. You need to get better.”

                  “And what am I getting better from?”

                  “Cocaine.” Greta hesitated. “At least that’s what the doctors think. They’re not exactly sure.”

                  “I’m lying here in restraints and the doctors don’t know what I’m supposedly addicted to?”

                  “You are addicted, David.”

                  “You know that’s not me. I’ve never taken drugs.”

                  “I know that. You know that. But…”

                  “But what?”

                  “You’ve been acting strangely lately. Even you have to admit that the dizziness, the hallucinations, the troubled dreams are due to something.”

                  “But not something I took knowingly.”

                  “The police don’t care.”

                  “Where’s Chief Matthews?”

                  “He’s the one who arrested you. He told me about an outburst at the office and how you collapsed, and then you collapsed again in your apartment.”

                  “You called the paramedics?”

                  “What was I supposed to do? This big lunk of a man, who has an impatient disposition the temperament of a bear was unconscious on my floor.” David eyes her angrily. “I tried to throw a rug over you but I was afraid the next tenant would complain about the snoring.”

                  As hard as David tried he couldn’t keep a smile from creeping onto his face. “Okay, okay. Who’s my lawyer?” he suddenly smiled as the heard the voices in the hallway outside his room fall silent as if one domino had been tipped and the rest were falling fast. By the time, Terry Finch had reached his door there was total silence. “Terry? Are you going to come in?” David said.

                  “That obvious?”

                  “Always. You appearance must seem particularly harsh to the doctors and nurses.”

                  “They believe they can fix anything.” Terry’s smile faded. “That’s why I’m here. Not everything can be fixed. At least not in a legal sense.”

                  “I heard you are my lawyer.”

                  “I am.”

                  “I didn’t know you practiced law.”

                  “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

                  “So, Counselor, how are you going to get me out of here?”

                  “You’ll be released in an hour.”

                  “What happened?”

                  “I convinced the police that you weren’t knowingly taking drugs.”

                  “Knowingly?”

                  “You were taking drugs. You just didn’t know it.”

                  “How do you know that?”

                  “I gave them to you.”

                  Terry could see the veins bulge in David’s neck and his fists whiten as he fought against the restraints. “I’ll kick your ass. Why would you do that?”

                  “To get you fired.” Terry sat down in the guest chair as let out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t see anything. Do you?”

                  “I see enough to rip your head off.”

                  “If you don’t settle down the nurse is going to come through that door and give you a sedative and then you’re not use to me for the rest of the day.”

                  “You’re awfully full of yourself for someone who’s been killing people.”

                  “Did it ever occur to you that our conversations are being taped?” Terry stood and gave David a look that told him their banter was over. “Greta, can you help me? Let’s get him in the shower, dressed, and out the back door before the press storms the hospital.”

                  “Where will we go?” David stammered.

                  “To the same place where they can’t find me.”  To most people, Terry’s expression was at best a pained grimace. David could tell Terry was grinning. He just couldn’t figure out why.