Free Draw the Dark by Ilsa J. Bick

community and the closeness that comes with family—is also service to the Lord. I have only consented to take you on because you are the sheriff’s nephew. As far as I am concerned, you will follow instructions to the letter. Your supervisor is responsible for assigning you to your duties, and you will report directly to her. Any deviations from your specified duties are to be approved by me, is that clear? In addition, you are to refrain from interacting with our guests in any way other than what is required of you. Many of our residents have memory problems and dementia; they are easily upset and agitated, and you are not to upset them more.”
    When she stopped to inhale, I said, “I won’t upset anybody.”
    She gave me a narrow look. “You’ll excuse me, Mr. Cage, but I’ve lived in Winter all my life. I know about you.”
    I felt my cheeks get hot. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
    “I hope not.” She held up a bony finger. “One slipup, one deviation, and I shall ask the court to remove you from this facility. Am I perfectly clear?”
    “Crystal,” I said.

    “Do you have any experience with seniors?” Peggy McClellan was Wisconsin-lean, a big-boned woman with chipmunk cheeks and too-blonde curls. Mrs. Krauss had marched me through the lobby and out a set of double doors. We’d taken a connected breezeway to a separate building she called the Lakeview House, and there she’d passed me on to Peggy—with relief, I thought. Another tick off the old to-do list.
    “No.”
    “Well, what about grandparents?” When I shook my head, she sighed. “Okay, well, dinner’s always kind of a busy time, but you might as well jump right in.”
    “Dinner? It’s only five.”
    “The seniors eat early here, and believe me, it’ll be six thirty or seven before we’re finally done. After dinner, there’s one last activity.... I think it’s art today, and you’ll help with that too, but let’s get going, and I’ll explain things as we go along.”
    She set off down a hall lined with open doors left and right. There were slots for name tags to the side of each door. None seemed to be vacant. Big wall clocks and date tags were set at either end of the hall. The air smelled like disinfectant, scrambled eggs, and boiled rice.
    “This is our assisted-living wing,” said Peggy. “We have about sixty guests, most of whom either have early- or midstage Alzheimer’s or dementia. That means they can still pretty much take care of themselves, but the building’s secured and our courtyard is fenced so they can’t wander off. The oldest is ninety-one, and I’ll eat my hat if he’s not in skilled nursing by Thanksgiving. Trust me, when someone’s looking over a fork like he’s never seen one in his life, he’s pretty close to the end.”
    “Where do they go then?”
    She inclined her head. “Next door. Skilled nursing facility. That’s for the ones who check in but don’t check out, if you catch my drift. We’ll get you a key card so you can get back and forth without having to come find me.”
    “Great,” I said. At least Peggy was willing to cut me some slack.
    “One thing, though. Some of the people here, when they start losing it? They can be . . . changeable. Some get downright mean, and I don’t know if that’s because of the dementia, or they were always that way. There was this one gentleman who liked to pinch me, not like he was being fresh. He
wanted
to hurt me because he was angry at his family, the world. He’d had a stroke and needed help feeding himself, getting dressed, going to the bathroom.... So he lashed out. He eventually wound up next door in skilled nursing. When he passed? I didn’t shed a tear. But I always treated him with respect. That’s the most important thing: respect. No matter what happens, you keep your cool.”
    “Okay.” I thought back to my abortive brawl with Dekker:
We’re all cool, right?
“So these are all bedrooms?”
    “Uh-huh.” She hooked a