telephone, and a number popped up on the Caller ID screen as it dialed. He punched the number into his own cell phone to save it and hung up the receiver before the call rang through.
A few minutes later, Ms. Liu entered again, guiding Ernie in front of her. Tim was struck immediately by how young he looked -- he couldn't have been over twenty-one. His chiseled features and dark eyes had probably served him well in the past. He looked like a kid whose biggest concern should have been how many girls were showing up to the next three-kegger, and yet here he was, rocking and mute, his feet encased in paper slippers. He wore a few days' scruff and an incredibly blank expression, as if his facial muscles had atrophied.
Ms. Liu steered Ernie into the interview chair facing the desk, and Ernie immediately began to rock. "I'll be right outside," she said.
The door clicked behind her. Ernie's eyes focused on his tight-clasped hands.
"Hi, Ernie. My name's Tim Rackley. It's nice to meet you."
Ernie swayed rhythmically.
"I have a few questions I'd like to ask you." Tim might as well have been talking to a watercooler, a fire hydrant, his father. He realized how foolish he'd been to ignore Bederman's and Ms. Liu's hesitations.
"I'm looking for a girl who joined up with a group of people. I think she was recruited off campus at Pepperdine. You went to Pepperdine, right?"
Ernie leaned forward in his chair, zoned out. Tim drew nearer in an attempt to engage him, resting his elbows on the desk. He brought his face within a few feet of Ernie's, but still Ernie didn't look up to meet his eyes.
"What was the name of the group you joined?"
The lulling whisper of the trickling water.
"Do you remember joining a group?"
Ernie's gentle rocking continued, regular as a heartbeat. Tim studied his eyebrows, his pupils, the occasional flicker of his lids.
"Can you tell me anything about the Teacher?"
Ernie snapped forward violently, screaming, his face inches from Tim's. Tim jerked back, elbow striking the Zen garden and sending it crashing to the floor. He rolled back until the chair collided with the wall. Ernie paused only to suck in a deep, screeching breath and then continued. Ms. Liu burst through the door, looking uncharacteristically flustered, and Tim heard the pounding footsteps of approaching backup.
Ernie continued to scream, so loud his voice was already flattening into hoarseness. He bobbed fiercely in his chair but made no move to attack Tim or Ms. Liu.
Two burly psych techs skidded into the room, followed by a jogging doctor.
One hand raised calmingly toward Ernie, Ms. Liu glared at Tim. "I think you should leave."
When one of the psych techs grabbed Ernie's arm, he threw himself off the chair, thrashing on the floor. As Tim stepped out into the hall, he heard the doctor calling for a Haldol cocktail.
His heart still pounding from the scare, Tim headed toward the exit, moving against the stream of responding workers.
The reception console stood vacant. Giving a glance in all directions, Tim slipped behind the reinforced glass, locating the overburdened visitors' log beneath the front counter. Ernie's screams continued to echo up the corridor.
Tim flipped through the sheets, finger scanning down the "Patient Name" columns. Where Ernie Tramine appeared -- a few times on each page -- Tim cross-referenced the "Visitor Name" box. Jennifer Tramine. Pierre Tramine. Pierre Tramine. Mikka Tramine.
Footsteps approached, several sets.
"-- never seen him that agitated --"
"-- Haldol should take the edge off --"
Tim moved furiously through the last few pages. Jennifer Tramine. Pierre Tramine. Reggie Rondell. He stopped at the last name, checking the corresponding date -- 2/05. About two months ago.
Tim tossed the log beneath the counter and stepped out of the console just as the charge nurse rounded the corner, flanked by psych techs. Passing the patients' disrupted yoga session, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and hit
A few minutes later, Ms. Liu entered again, guiding Ernie in front of her. Tim was struck immediately by how young he looked -- he couldn't have been over twenty-one. His chiseled features and dark eyes had probably served him well in the past. He looked like a kid whose biggest concern should have been how many girls were showing up to the next three-kegger, and yet here he was, rocking and mute, his feet encased in paper slippers. He wore a few days' scruff and an incredibly blank expression, as if his facial muscles had atrophied.
Ms. Liu steered Ernie into the interview chair facing the desk, and Ernie immediately began to rock. "I'll be right outside," she said.
The door clicked behind her. Ernie's eyes focused on his tight-clasped hands.
"Hi, Ernie. My name's Tim Rackley. It's nice to meet you."
Ernie swayed rhythmically.
"I have a few questions I'd like to ask you." Tim might as well have been talking to a watercooler, a fire hydrant, his father. He realized how foolish he'd been to ignore Bederman's and Ms. Liu's hesitations.
"I'm looking for a girl who joined up with a group of people. I think she was recruited off campus at Pepperdine. You went to Pepperdine, right?"
Ernie leaned forward in his chair, zoned out. Tim drew nearer in an attempt to engage him, resting his elbows on the desk. He brought his face within a few feet of Ernie's, but still Ernie didn't look up to meet his eyes.
"What was the name of the group you joined?"
The lulling whisper of the trickling water.
"Do you remember joining a group?"
Ernie's gentle rocking continued, regular as a heartbeat. Tim studied his eyebrows, his pupils, the occasional flicker of his lids.
"Can you tell me anything about the Teacher?"
Ernie snapped forward violently, screaming, his face inches from Tim's. Tim jerked back, elbow striking the Zen garden and sending it crashing to the floor. He rolled back until the chair collided with the wall. Ernie paused only to suck in a deep, screeching breath and then continued. Ms. Liu burst through the door, looking uncharacteristically flustered, and Tim heard the pounding footsteps of approaching backup.
Ernie continued to scream, so loud his voice was already flattening into hoarseness. He bobbed fiercely in his chair but made no move to attack Tim or Ms. Liu.
Two burly psych techs skidded into the room, followed by a jogging doctor.
One hand raised calmingly toward Ernie, Ms. Liu glared at Tim. "I think you should leave."
When one of the psych techs grabbed Ernie's arm, he threw himself off the chair, thrashing on the floor. As Tim stepped out into the hall, he heard the doctor calling for a Haldol cocktail.
His heart still pounding from the scare, Tim headed toward the exit, moving against the stream of responding workers.
The reception console stood vacant. Giving a glance in all directions, Tim slipped behind the reinforced glass, locating the overburdened visitors' log beneath the front counter. Ernie's screams continued to echo up the corridor.
Tim flipped through the sheets, finger scanning down the "Patient Name" columns. Where Ernie Tramine appeared -- a few times on each page -- Tim cross-referenced the "Visitor Name" box. Jennifer Tramine. Pierre Tramine. Pierre Tramine. Mikka Tramine.
Footsteps approached, several sets.
"-- never seen him that agitated --"
"-- Haldol should take the edge off --"
Tim moved furiously through the last few pages. Jennifer Tramine. Pierre Tramine. Reggie Rondell. He stopped at the last name, checking the corresponding date -- 2/05. About two months ago.
Tim tossed the log beneath the counter and stepped out of the console just as the charge nurse rounded the corner, flanked by psych techs. Passing the patients' disrupted yoga session, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and hit
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