Third Shift - 4. Chapter 5 - Lady Macbeth

Chapter 5 - Lady MacBeth

February 13th

The hallway seemed overly cheerful. At least, that’s how it made Cory feel. There were happy, spirited posters and framed photos with dancing puppies and country scenes of geese. As Cory walked down past carts loaded with equipment and piles of laundry, he couldn’t help but feel low. Everything he’d supposed as right, was wrong. All his suppositions, his theories were incorrect. The bottom had fallen out of his futures.

Sandy hadn’t just left him. His partner of six years was having an affair and dumped him for another man, an old friend. This wasn’t just a fling. It was betrayal in its worst capacity. Then, to top it off, he lost a client and was close to losing another. In one day, his entire world had twisted on its axis and left him floating in space, orbiting outside the reach of enough gravity to pull him in.

Cory felt numb.

“Can I help you?” a woman in brightly colored scrubs asked, crowding him.

“I’m here to see John Lawson. I’m his counselor,” Cory answered holding up a piece of paper like a shield. He was feeling a crisis of confidence. His skin was clammy and his breathing was irregular. His boss had directed him to Hennepin County Medical Center, charging him with the errand of assessing Lawson’s mental condition. Considering Henderson’s death, Cory was surprised at the order. Surely, someone else was more qualified to do the job.

“Oh,” the woman said, looking closely at the page. Cory could see her badge hanging from a lanyard said, Tara Herrington, RN, and a few letters following those. It twisted away as she leaned back and handed him the sheet. “Make sure the guards understand you’re from the jail. They are on strict orders to only let hospital staff inside to see him.”

“I’ll do that,” Cory answered, nodding.

“He’s in the room behind the guy in the uniform,” she said, nodding abstractly down the hall.

“Thanks,” Cory said, and tried to smile a ‘thanks’, but she’d already left.

“I guess it’s now or never,” he muttered to himself. Cory picked up the pace until he reached the armed guard.

As he approached, the man in a county trooper uniform seemed to bristle with hostility. His chest puffed out and his hand fell to his holstered weapon. Cory was surprised by the reaction.

“Hi,” he said as he slowed. “I’m here to see Mr. Lawson and-” he began.

“Nobody gets in except medical personnel,” the guard interrupted him. Cory noted the man’s name and rank.

“Deputy Samuelson, I’m his counselor from the detention center.”

The officer scowled slightly but accepted the offered paper. His lips moved slightly as he read the paper. His eyes darted from the paper to the other man, peering at him suspiciously. “Let’s see some ID.”

“Sure.” Cory handed over his laminated credentials with his face emblazoned below his name and title.

“You’re his counselor?” the guard asked, handing it back.

“I’ve spoken with him a couple of times.”

“He’s pretty messed up,” the guard said. “And who could blame him. I’ve had to send at least three reporters packing this morning. God, those people are relentless.”

Cory noted the deputy actually looked sad as he shook his head. The desire to learn what Lawson was charged with surged within him. What exactly had the man done? He quickly suppressed the urge and swallowed hard.

“Can I go in?”

“Sure,” the officer answered with a nod. He stepped to one side and Cory opened the door. He was greeted by the whiff of disinfectant mixed with urine and the surprising scent of violets. Summoning up his courage, he walked into the brightly lit room.

Cory couldn’t contain his gasp. When he saw Lawson’s face, bruised purple and black on the right side with a bandage covering his left eye, it simply came out in a rush. He saw Lawson wince at the sound.

“How are you doing?” he asked approaching the bed. Lawson frowned and turned to his right. Doing so made him wince again, though this time it was physical pain which caused the reaction.

“Were you able to name any of your attackers?” Cory asked, not knowing what else to say. To cover up the silence, he asked another question. “Can I get you anything? A magazine? Something?”

Cory watched as a tear fell from Lawson left eye discoloring the white gauze bandages and tape. He looked miserable and at the same time two drastically different and distinct thoughts came to him. The first was the question he’d struggled with ever since hearing about the attack.

After he got the call from his boss, Carroll, the question started to chase him from thought to thought; what had Lawson done? The first offense that came to mind was child abuse. It was common knowledge child abusers were at the bottom of the dung heap that was the pecking order of prison, right? Even though it was reported as such without fail, it wasn’t entirely correct. The bottom rung of the pecking order consisted of the weak. Even if an inmate were a pedophile, if he was a hard-ass, he was safe. Also, if a guy joined one of the various gangs and had protection, he was safe as kittens.

However, the weak could be smelled by the other inmates and they would become fodder for men’s fists.

The facts of the matter weren’t entirely relevant though. Most of Cory’s statistics and experience were at a prison where the group dynamics were quite different from a detention facility. Perhaps in a jailhouse, the rules were different. It could be the not-yet-convicted felt a kind of moral authority to punish a child molester a convicted felon may not.

But then, what about the detention guards? There was no way Lawson could have ended up in the room alone with his assaulters without the complicity or even aid of the guards. After a quick trip to his office at the detention building, he made his way to the basement of the courthouse in Carroll’s office. He hadn’t got the answers he wanted.

Carroll reminded him that Lawson was still an alleged felon. He also was now an injured, as well as mentally unstable man. What he’d done or supposedly done still didn’t matter. None of the key elements of his job had changed and Cory had to concede the point.

As for the mechanism of the attack, the detention center’s governor was investigating. Carroll had been told the guards had allowed Lawson go to the rest room as they waited outside the door. They heard a couple of thuds and entered the room. There was no one else there except Lawson on the floor passed out and bleeding. They contended no one entered or left the room by the hallway door. A closed and locked door to the guard hallway on the other side of the room appeared to have been opened and shut as there were disturbed cobwebs on the hinges.

That’s all Carroll knew. By the end of their meeting, Cory was resolved to help Lawson but also certain the true story would never see the light of day. His boss had said as much.

Lawson’s mumbling awoke Cory from his ponderings. “I’m sorry. What did you say, John?”

The man shook his head and didn’t respond at first. Then after a moment he said a little louder, “I deserved it. I wish they’d killed me.”

Cory’s heart leaped. Lawson’s voice was rumbling and so sad. He could see the beauty still lurking from behind the dark, painful bruises. Those features were hidden but could still make his heart race a little. He took a deep breath.

“You’re only saying that because you’re in pain,” he finally responded to the wounded man.

“Doesn’t matter. I wish they’d finished off the job,” Lawson said a little louder. His voice was watery and filled with bitterness. Another tear squeezed from his eye.

“Who did this?”

Lawson shook his head. “Who cares? I wish I’d done it to myself.”

Cory looked over and saw a chair in the corner. He pulled it over to the side of Lawson’s hospital bed and sat down. “You can’t mean that. They said you almost lost an eye.”

Lawson said nothing more. He was staring at the wall opposite the counselor. He didn’t move for several minutes.

Cory was about to get up and move the chair to the other side. His heart was thudding in his chest. Concern for Lawson had overcome all other questions he had. He felt nothing else when the injured man spoke.

“I can’t believe I did it. I was lying here while they were hooking me up these machines and all I could think of were his eyes staring up at me. It was creepy and it scared me even more.”

Cory didn’t know what to say next. He cleared his throat to remind the other man he was there.

“John, I don’t know what you did to get put in detention and I don’t care. I’m here to help you cope with your situation.”

Lawson didn’t react at first. Then suddenly his head whipped around. His one good eye trained on Cory. The counselor could feel it riveting into his brain, digging around for answers. He looked both confused and somewhat suspicious.

“What do you mean? How can you NOT know what I did?” the man asked loudly. “It’s all over the news.”

“I haven’t looked into it,” Cory answered, keeping his voice firm and even. The bellowing of Lawson’s deep bass touched him. The sound seemed to caress his skin. He felt his cheeks redden.

“I don’t believe you,” Lawson huffed. “It’s ridiculous.” Then he turned away.

Cory felt the urge to comfort him, but he stayed still. His body fought his mind. After a lost moment, he drew a nervous breath. “It’s none of my business what you supposedly did. It doesn’t matter unless you want to talk about it.”

Lawson’s head bobbed and nestled in the pillow for a second. He seemed to be contemplating the situation which was obviously not something he had encountered. Without looking at Cory, he asked in a soft voice, “So if I told you I raped that little girl, you wouldn’t tell anyone else? It would just be between us?”

Cory swallowed hard. This was a test. It had to be. John Lawson was seeing how he’d respond. He hadn’t raped anyone much less a little girl, or had he?

“That’s a separate issue,” Cory answered. “Unless you plan on committing a crime, what you say to me is privileged information. My professional ethics insure what you say to me is kept private. What I told you was I don’t know the charges against you. I will listen if you want to tell me, but I won’t ask and I won’t look it up.”

Lawson’s head turned and he appraised the other man with his one good eye. It scanned the counselor with surprise and a little awe. “You really don’t know?” he finally asked.

Cory simply shook his head. “I don’t.”

“I’m a bad man,” Lawson said after closing his one good eye. “I’m tired. Can we talk later?”

“Sure,” Cory said, gathering his things. “I’m here for you, John.”

Lawson didn’t answer.