Free Creature by John Saul Page B

Charlotte’s distress, said, “It’s against the rules, but you can look in on him if you want to.”
    Charlotte’s step slowed as she moved down the corridor, and she came to a complete stop in front of the half-open door to the boy’s room. At last, steeling herself, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. There were two beds in the room, but only one of them was occupied. Covered only with a light blanket, his head held rigid in a metal brace, his eyes closed, Rick Ramirez had a strange stillness about him that told Charlotte instantly that he was not merely asleep. She stepped forward and stood beside the boy, gazing down into his face. A lock of curly black hair lay over one eye, and Charlotte instinctively reached out to brush it back.
    “Don’t touch him,” a soft but urgent voice said behind her. Gasping with surprise, Charlotte turned to see a pretty young woman, no more than thirty, coming out of the bathroom that connected this room and the next. “Please,” the woman went on. “I can do it.” She moved to the bed, and Charlotte stepped aside. Gently, her hand barely caressing the boy’s cheek, the woman carefully moved the lock of hair. Then she looked up, her dark eyes meeting Charlotte’s. “Who are you?” she asked.
    “Charlotte LaConner,” Charlotte replied. “I—my son is Jeff LaConner. He was in the game—”
    Instantly the other woman’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know who he is,” she said. “He’s the boy who hurt my son. I am Maria Ramirez,” she added, the words sounding to Charlotte almost like a challenge.
    Charlotte swallowed, struggling to control her emotions. “I—I just came to see how your son is.” She spoke softly, her voice little more than a whisper. “Is he going to be all right?”
    Maria Ramirez’s eyes glistened with tears, but when she spoke, her voice was perfectly controlled. “No,” she said. “He’s not going to be all right. He may never walk again.” Though she saw Charlotte recoil from her words, Maria went relentlessly on. “He might not even live, Mrs. LaConner. Your son might very well have killed my boy.”
    Charlotte closed her eyes, as if the gesture might shut away the reality of Maria Ramirez’s words. But when she opened them, the slim Chicano woman was still staring at her. “Is—Is there anything I can do?” Charlotte whispered. “Anything at all?”
    Maria Ramirez shook her head. Charlotte moved forward then and reached out as if to touch the woman, but Maria shrank away from her. Silently, Charlotte turned to go. But when she was at the door, Maria spoke once more.
    “Make him stop, Mrs. LaConner. Make your son stop playing that game. If he doesn’t, he’ll hurt someone else.”
    Charlotte turned back and nodded. “I will, Mrs. Ramirez. You can be very certain of that. Jeff has played his last game.”
    But as she walked out of the hospital and into the bright glare of the high, noonday sun, Charlotte wondered whether or not she would be able to back up her words. In the twenty years she’d been married to Chuck, she had yet to win a major argument. Inevitably his logic won out over her own emotionalism.
    * * *
    Blake Tanner had spent the morning touring the TarrenTech facility with Jerry Harris. At almost every turn his amazement had increased.
    When he’d arrived that morning, he’d been surprised at the apparent lack of security in the building, but Jerry had quickly disabused him of that notion.
    “The television cameras have been tracking you since you came within a quarter of a mile of the shop,” he explained. “A description of your car and its plate number is already in the memories, and it also did a match to a photograph of you. In addition, we have a whole series of perimeter alarms buried in the ground around the building, and backup systems in case anyone is smart enough to get around the main system. Not that we’ve ever had a problem,” he added, a note of smugness coming into his voice.