Page 36 of Sweet Deal
“What’s happened?” Jim matched her stride.
“Michael—the kid I’m so worried about—is having an episode. His mom says the voices are telling him that he has to save his sister.” Rachel pushed through the door, her steps quickening. “They’re barricaded in the bathroom and he’s tearing up the apartment.”
“Are the police on the way?”
Rachel shook her head. “Kathy’s afraid of what he’ll do if he sees the police. He hasn’t had good results with them.”
The urgency in her voice propelled Jim forward, all thoughts of a leisurely morning forgotten. “I’m driving.”
They reached the car in record time. As Rachel buckled in, she was already making another call, her fingers moving with practiced efficiency.
“Marty, it’s Rachel Sweet. I’m heading to the Benson residence now. EDP situation, seventeen-year-old male, schizophrenic, off meds, currently experiencing paranoid delusions.” She rattled off an address. “Mother and younger sister barricaded in bathroom. I need backup, but no sirens, no uniforms if possible. He’s scared, not dangerous—at least not intentionally.”
Jim pulled onto the main road, pressing the gas harder than strictly necessary. Rachel’s calm professional demeanor impressed him, but he could see the worry in her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands as she ended the call.
“This Marty—police?” he asked, taking a sharp turn onto the highway.
“Crisis response team. Michael only trusts me, but…” She glanced over at him. “This could get ugly.”
Knowing ugly was her way of saying dangerous, all he could do was nod.
“Michael knows me. If I can get him talking, get him to focus on my voice instead of the ones in his head, we might be able to de-escalate.”
“And if you can’t?”
Rachel’s silence was answer enough.
The apartment complex came into view—a weathered four-story building with peeling paint and a sign advertising “affordable living.” Jim pulled into the first available spot, barely putting the car in park before Rachel was out the door.
“Apartment 412,” she called over her shoulder, already heading for the stairs.
Jim caught up in two long strides. As they rushed up the stairwell, the sound of shouting became audible—a young man’s voice, alternating between anger and fear.
“You’re lying! She’s not Lily! Where’s my real sister?”
The crash of something breaking punctuated the question.
Rachel paused at the landing, her hand on Jim’s arm. “You’ll need to stay out of the way. I can’t risk your presence adding to his fears, understood?”
The authority in her voice—so different from the woman who’d been fussing with her earrings less than an hour ago—stirred something in him. Pride, respect, and an unmistakable surge of protectiveness.
“Understood,” he said, though every instinct told him to put himself between her and whatever danger lay behind that door.
The apartment door was ajar, hanging awkwardly from one hinge. Rachel pushed it open slowly. “Michael?” she called, her voice deliberately calm and warm. “It’s Rachel. Rachel Sweet. I’m coming in, okay?”
The shouting paused briefly. Jim stood in the doorway glancing into a small living area that looked like a tornado had struck. Furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor, picture frames smashed. A tall, lanky teenager stood by the window, a little girl, maybe four or five, clutched against him in one arm, the other hand gripping a bat. “Stay away. I need to save Lily.”
The urge to rush in and snatch the little girl away almost overwhelmed him, only Rachel’s words—stay back—kept his feet rooted in place.
Michael’s eyes were wild, darting around the room as if tracking invisible movements. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead. “They took Lily. They replaced her.”
“No, Michael. That’s not true.” Rachel stepped forward carefully, hands open at her sides. “Lily is fine. She’s your sister. The same sister you’ve always had.”
“Please, Michael.” In tears, his mother stood hunched, hugging herself. “She’s your sister. She loves you.”
“No! She has to die for Lily to come back. They told me.”
Jim remained by the door, taking in the scene, assessing threats and exits. The bathroom door was off the hinges; the wood cracked in half. This kid had to have the strength of a legion of demons.
