The Warden by Madeleine Roux Read Free Book Online Page A

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    â€œMan, are you always this square?” Tanner teased. He smiled at them, apparently enjoying the little jailbreak, his blue eyes gleaming behind his specs. “We take patients outside all the time for therapeutic walks. It’s not that unusual, Madge.”
    â€œYou do not get to call me square and then pretend we’re ona first-name basis!” she squawked, pacing. Her red, red lips turned down in a pout, but then she stopped, observing Lucy from the side as the girl simply sat in the wheelchair, kicking her gangly legs out, the bottoms of her feet brushing the grass. “Fine, I can admit she looks . . . better.”
    â€œNot so square then,” Tanner said with a smirk.
    â€œHow do you feel, Lucy?” Jocelyn asked. She ignored the ga-ga looks the other two started giving each other. She couldn’t imagine how anyone found a hospital setting romantic. And she didn’t expect an answer from Lucy, but she asked anyway, going to crouch in front of the wheelchair and look up at the girl.
    Lucy’s big, black eyes swept the unkempt yard, taking in the fence, the trees, the wisps of fog that rolled up toward the grounds from the picturesque town below. It was impossible to tell what she might be thinking, but at least she wasn’t screaming.
    Jocelyn carefully, slowly, put out her hand, waiting to see if Lucy flinched or recoiled. But the girl did nothing, simply watched the nurse’s hand get nearer and nearer, and then she closed her eyes as Jocelyn tucked a piece of lank hair behind the girl’s ear.
    She would call that progress.
    â€œThere now,” Jocelyn said. “I think we can do a lot together, Lucy. I think we can help each other. You don’t have to say anything, all right? Nobody expects you to say anything.”
    â€œCarnicero.”
    Jocelyn blinked. The other two fell silent, too.
    â€œThe butcher,” Jocelyn said softly, watching Lucy nod. “You . . . you think someone in Brookline is a butcher?”
    â€œ Sí. Usted sabe el carnicero . El carnicero de Brookline .” Her voice was high, prim.
    Jocelyn gradually shifted her eyes to Madge, who swallowed noisily and said, “Yes, you know the butcher. The butcher of Brookline. That’s . . . that’s what she said, Joss.”
    Jocelyn turned back to Lucy to inquire further, but the girl had reached for Jocelyn’s hand, taking it and holding it firmly between her two small, cold palms. Even the sunlight didn’t seem to warm her skin to above freezing.
    â€œHe wants to cut open my head,” the girl told her, her voice lightly accented. “He wants to cut it open and scoop out what’s inside.”
    â€œLucy, I really don’t think that’s true,” Jocelyn said. “But I’m glad you’re speaking to me. That’s very brave of you, and I’m really, really proud. Does being outside make you feel better? I know it makes me feel better.”
    Lucy narrowed her eyes, studying Jocelyn as if she were a piteously stupid creature. It made Jocelyn feel small, it made her feel like Lucy was much, much older, impossibly older, a soul that had seen and done things Jocelyn couldn’t even fathom.
    Lucy released her hand, placing her own hands back on the wheelchair armrests. “Don’t let him cut open my head,” she said. “And now I would like to go back inside.”
    An act of rebellion. Perfect. I could hardly devise a better wedge to drive them apart. A minor inconvenience has been smoothed over—my supplies have run low over the years since my initial training, and I feared the supplements might dry up for good. But where there is a will there is a way, and where there is a need there is greed. Trax Corp. will do nicely for now, so long as they prove a discreet and reliable partner.
    More exciting still, the patient I have been waiting for has presented himself. Years of anticipation leading to this moment