That day, Janelle mostly remained quiet as she was given her final tests to ensure she would be ready for discharge. When escorted to physical therapy, she tried to ignore the random clusters of officers she'd never seen before while being transported to various parts of the hospital. She also tried to ignore the feeling in her gut that said something was wrong and that no one was being honest with her. Her hands were tied at the moment anyway. In a hospital filled with dozens of cops and even more staff and patients, there wasn't a whole lot she could do.
One red flag was how close the officers would get to her and whoever was conducting any kind of test or physical therapy on her. They also tended to speak more to the staff than to her, the patient. She pointed this out and let them know it bothered her, but no one seemed to care. Remembering how Boris would also stand up and step over to observe what others were doing to her in the past, combined with these officers doing the same thing, it finally hit the rather slow-to-realize woman that it wasn't just curiosity or wanting to know the progress and status of her health. They were there because she was considered dangerous. Pushing a probation officer who was taller and heavier than her was one of many examples of that.
Janelle was in bed when one doctor entered the room and stepped up to her. She quickly took note that, as soon as the doctor did, Officers Cole and Walker got right up and also approached the bed. The doctor was to her left. Cole went around to her right and placed a hand on her right arm, while Walker moved to the foot of the bed and placed his hand on her ankles.
"What's going on?" asked a confused and curious Janelle.
When she got no answer from the officers, the doctor—an older woman with curly gray hair—said, "They're just being kind enough to provide their assistance."
"Assistance for what?"
"Well, we need to give you a shot, and the needle is rather thick and can cause the patient to jerk involuntarily."
"Oh," said Janelle. "Don't the nurses usually do this?" she asked, gesturing toward the officers holding her.
"They do, but we're pretty short-staffed today."
She was given the shot, and even though it didn’t seem to hurt much, Janelle felt her body stiffen just from having the idea of it put in her head. When the doctor was done, she said, "I see what you mean. The urge to move was there."
The doctor smiled and then handed her a paper to sign.
Janelle looked up at Officer Cole and said, "Can I please have my arm back now?"
Without a word, he took his hand off her arm but didn’t move it far. Janelle tried to ignore the fact that she felt more like she was being treated as a criminal rather than a victim and witness and signed the form without reading it. Only when the doctor left the room did the officers move away from her—though "away" only meant somewhere between five and ten feet.
At the end of the second shift, Cole and Walker left and were replaced with two female officers and one male officer. The only one she recognized was Officer Gilbert, who pulled the same plastic chair over toward the side of her bed near her feet and made herself comfortable in it without saying a word.
Finally, Janelle said, "Good evening to you too."
"Howdy there, Miss Stone."
"No need to be so formal. Janelle will do. What are you up to?"
"Just doing my job."
"You're just going to sit there all night? No puzzle books? No book to read?"
"Maybe later, but in general, I don’t require much entertainment."
Janelle tried to smile. The two engaged in small talk and actually had a decent conversation for about ten minutes or so about various books and movies before Janelle felt her eyelids begin to get heavy. She yawned, signaling that she was ready for bed and that the officer could move behind the curtain or out into the hall.
"Well, as you can probably tell," she said when Gilbert didn’t seem to take the hint, "I’m just about ready for sleep."
"Okay," the officer simply said, hands tucked once again behind her head, not making a move to give her any space.
It had been agreed upon amongst the officers the night before to make sure Janelle didn’t sleep that well. They figured if she was tired, she would be easier to move and less likely to get very far if she decided to run. So, they would disturb her just enough to leave her tired but not enough to cause any setbacks with her health. The last thing they wanted was for her to stay in the hospital any longer, where it was much more comfortable than jail. The woman had still killed a man—accidentally or not—and she was going to pay for it, even if it wouldn’t be nearly as long as most people would like. She had also still absconded, owed back payments, associated with a felon, and there sure as hell was no “deal.” The only thing they weren't sure of was whether or not she had pushed her husband’s aunt into the pool and drowned her. They thought there was a good chance she had but couldn't prove it. According to the prosecutor and others they’d talked to, Janelle was likely looking at doing a total of 12 to 15 years between all the pending charges. More would be added if they could prove that she had drowned Ramona.
Janelle closed her eyes. As expected and hoped for, she reopened them a minute later and said, "Are you just going to sit there staring at me all night?"
"I’m not staring at you, Miss Stone. I’m just lost in thought, gazing at nothing."
"Well, could you at least please move behind the curtain or out in the hall? It kind of feels weird having someone just sitting there watching when I’m trying to sleep and you’re making me feel more like a criminal than a victim and witness."
With the other officers out of view but right behind the curtain, listening and ready to jump in should Janelle decide to get physical as she had with Boris, Officer Gilbert said, "You don’t need to watch me, Miss Stone. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. Close your eyes and you’ll never know I was here."
Realizing she wasn’t going to win this one, Janelle turned over and faced the other direction with a heavy sigh of frustration, still feeling awkward and uncomfortable.
To the officer's pleasure, Janelle turned around once again a few minutes later to ask that the light be turned off. Gilbert rose and said, "We can dim it, but we can’t darken it completely. Gotta be able to see you in case of an emergency." Gilbert reached for a switch that dimmed the rectangular strip of light behind the bed.
Once again, Janelle turned her back toward the officer and tried to will herself to relax enough to sleep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time she tossed and turned, she’d open an eye a tiny speck and could see Gilbert sitting in the same position—and she wasn’t staring at nothing either. She was looking right at her with a blank, robotic expression devoid of empathy.
ns216.73.216.154da2
