Page 41 of No Quarter

She walked down the hallway, admiring the paintings that adorned the walls. Each one was made by a patient of the retreat, and they added a splash of extra color to the already pastel-colored walls.

She kept walking, determined to shake off the lingering uneasiness that seemed to be following her. The pictures always helped her when her mind was troubled.

And then she saw it.

The picture of the ocean. Its vast expanse of dark blue water glistening in the moonlight was a sight to behold. It almost looked magical and beckoned to Melanie, as if calling for her to step into the painting, into its embrace, and drift away on its waves.

Melanie took a deep breath, filled with longing for the sea. She had been so close all along, just a few steps away from the painting all this time.

The painting had calmed her many times before. Sometimes she thought her mind was like the raging sea, all those blue waves jostling with one another. And then the calm ocean would smooth out inside her mind, and a small portion of serenity would be within touching distance.

She sighed, and then decided that she’d go to the bathroom before going to bed.

Tomorrow will take care of itself, she thought.

Heading back in the direction of her room, she reached the nearest bathroom. Going inside, the rubber floor was cool beneath her feet. The room was still, not even a drip of water disturbed her.

Melanie opened the door to one of the six stalls and sat on the toilet inside.

As she relieved herself, she heard a sound.

Footsteps.

Someone had entered the bathroom. They walked slowly along where the stalls were with slow footsteps and then entered the stall next to Melanie.

“Hello,” Melanie said, nervously wanting to cut the tension with a joke. “I feel the older I get the more I have to pee at night.”

But the person in the stall next to her said nothing. Not even a hint of laughter.

She quickly finished up and then flushed the toilet before standing up. She tried to silence the sounds her shoes made on the floor as she walked over to the door of her stall, but it was difficult with her heart pounding in her ears.

Reaching out, she slowly turned the handle and peeked out.

The first thing she saw was a black gloved hand holding a length of rope. And then she saw the murderer’s face.

Her blood ran cold as she stared into the eyes of her killer. There was no mercy there, no pity, only a cold, calculating ruthlessness.

In an instant, Melanie knew that she was going to die.

The murderer moved swiftly, wrapping the rope around Melanie’s neck, and yanking her out of the stall. Melanie struggled desperately, but it was no use.

Tomorrow will take care of itself, she thought as the rope crushed her neck and death washed over her like the ocean.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Valerie opened her eyes to the darkness. They adjusted slowly, piece by piece, revealing the gray outline of a room bathed in night. For a moment, she was disorientated. She wasn’t certain where she was or how she got there.

But as the fog of sleep cleared, she started to remember. She was on a case, and she was spending the night at Elmwood Psychiatric Retreat.

That thought sent a shiver up her back. She lay there trying to get back to sleep, but the voices in her head, the thoughts given sound, wouldn’t let her.

You’ll be in a much worse place than this, Valerie.

She sat up, covered in a cold sweat. Getting out of bed, she reached for a cup of water on a nightstand and drank it down in one gulp.

It didn’t help.

The voices were still there, whispering in the darkness.

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