Night-World by Robert Bloch Read Free Book Online

him.”
    “But you must have discussed it, before you decided to put him in the sanatorium.”
    Karen forced herself to meet Dr. Vicente’s gaze. “Bruce was the only one who decided, really. He knew he had a problem, and he wanted help.”
    “I see.” Dr. Vicente leaned back. “But from what I understand, the sanatorium was rather expensive. Surely you realized therapy was available without charge through the Veterans Administration.”
    “No—he hated the thought of a veterans’ hospital—”
    “Why?”
    “He said the mental wards were like a prison, only worse. He couldn’t stand the thought of being penned in like some animal—”
    Dr. Vicente spoke softly. “Had your husband ever been in the mental ward of a veterans’ hospital, Mrs. Raymond?”
    The grittiness disappeared from Karen’s eyes, inundated by sudden tears. “Don’t talk about Bruce that way! I told you he committed himself voluntarily, and Dr. Griswold said he was ready for release. He isn’t crazy—he never was!”
    It wasn’t until she thought about it later than Karen realized Lieutenant Barringer must have been monitoring the interview from another room. But now, as he came through the doorway, all she could see was a tired man who badly needed a shave.
    “Not interrupting, am I?” he said.
    Dr. Vicente shook his head. Karen blotted her eyes with a handkerchief from her purse.
    Barringer moved toward the desk. “Just wanted you to know we’re broadcasting the appeal. All radio and television newscasts will carry it throughout the day. We’re asking the families of the missing sanatorium patients to get in touch—identify their relatives and give any information they have concerning their whereabouts.”
    Dr. Vicente sighed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t count on them for help.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’m afraid those families probably feel the way Mrs. Raymond does—they don’t want to run the risk of possibly incriminating a husband, a wife, a son or daughter. You’ve got to remember those patients were placed in the sanatorium for the express purpose of keeping their condition a private matter. These murders will only intensify the families’ desire to protect their loved ones from possible accusation.”
    “I realize it’s only an outside chance,” Barringer said. He glanced at Karen. “That’s why I was hoping Mrs. Raymond here would listen to reason.”
    Karen glanced up quickly. “You’re the ones who aren’t reasonable. Just because Bruce was a patient at the sanatorium—that doesn’t mean he was involved in those murders. Why should he kill those people and run away when he was ready to be discharged?”
    “You’re jumping to conclusions—”
    “What about you?” Karen faced Barringer directly. “This morning you said Dorothy Anderson was killed to keep her from talking. Where’s your proof? People are murdered every day—maybe it was just coincidence.”
    Lieutenant Barringer shrugged. “Griswold’s car was missing from the sanatorium last night. We located it about an hour ago—parked on a side street about a block away from Dorothy Anderson’s apartment.”
    Karen turned away, but Barringer’s voice pursued her. “Still sound like coincidence, Mrs. Raymond?”
    “I tell you Bruce wouldn’t harm anyone—”
    “We haven’t accused your husband.” Dr. Vicente rose and moved around the desk to where Karen sat. “All we’re saying, all we know at the moment, is that he is one of five escapees from that sanatorium. And that on the basis of evidence presently known, it would appear that one or more of those escapees committed the murders.”
    “But you admit you don’t know which one it is,” Karen said.
    “That’s right.” Vicente pursed his lips. “But every indication seems to point to what he is. A sociopathic personality. Someone who may appear to behave quite rationally, who may even act with brilliant intelligence most of the time—but becomes utterly ruthless when