Janelle ran a few blocks and found a payphone. She knew that by now, Steven would be home. Reaching into the purse she had managed to hang on to the entire time, she dug out a coin and slipped it into the slot. As soon as her husband answered, she explained the situation to him.
"I've really got to start listening to my gut and trust my instincts when I sense something is wrong."
"Did they tell you that you were under arrest?" Steven asked.
"The cop who picked me up said I wasn't."
"What about the detective who interviewed you? Did he specifically say you were under arrest?"
"No, not in those exact words. Just that I was going to do years and go down hard and all that crap. He thinks I did it because she picked on me for my weight, but as I tried to tell him, if I killed everyone who picked on me for my weight, there'd be a lot of dead people out there. I'm sure he's only targeting me because of who I am and because your lovely sister bashed me to him."
Since the police hadn’t called or shown up at their door, Steven realized Janelle likely wasn’t under arrest. But being the naive little idiot that she was, she sure thought she was. More than likely, the detective couldn’t prove his case — at least not yet. Steven suspected the detective had hoped that putting pressure on Janelle and scaring her would make her confess. He wasn’t going to tell her this, however, because he knew that as long as she thought she was wanted, she wouldn’t come home — and therefore, he wouldn’t have to deal with her.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked simply.
"Well, I can’t come home, but I’ve got to get my meds. Argh!" Janelle cried in frustration. "Steven, I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. This thing called New Mexico. Ever since moving here, I’ve spent so much time in jails or hospitals. This has gotten crazy ridiculous. Whether or not you’re willing to come with me, I’ve got to get out of here. I’m going to head over to a friend’s place for now, and I’ll come over later to pick up some of my stuff."
"Do what you gotta do," he told her.
Meanwhile, Janelle no longer cared that he didn’t seem to want to help her or take off with her. With or without him, she was getting out of New Mexico. That much was final. It was like New Mexico was one big curse. She had been unlucky with almost everything since moving there.
And then it happened. She and Henrietta made a run for Texas, only to be kidnapped by a cult when Henri’s car broke down. Henrietta was killed, and the FBI raided the compound.
Now Janelle was about to wake up in the hospital after being rescued by the last people she wanted anything to do with, but who she had no choice but to reach out to in hopes of being saved.
Janelle’s hospital stay lasted nearly three weeks. Boris couldn’t wait to get her out of there and into jail so he could spill the beans and let her know that not only had she killed one of his closest friends, but that she was also going to be charged with absconding. There were also other charges, such as back payments she stubbornly refused to pay. According to a judge he knew personally, she was looking at five to ten years for involuntary manslaughter and another year for absconding, as well as other minor infractions. If it could ever be proven that she was Ramona and Stephanie McNeil’s attacker, she would be going away for good. So far, Stephanie’s case could have been a home invasion for all anyone knew, and Ramona could have drowned, though everyone suspected Janelle was behind both cases.
While he was eager for Janelle to leave the hospital, he couldn’t deny that he loved every minute of rubbing his presence in her face, as much as he also loathed being in her presence. Sometimes he was there in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, sometimes the evening. He knew he was just as obsessed with her as she accused him of being. He wasn’t sure why, but he was determined to be the one to bring this awful woman down. He couldn’t stand her. His obsession with Janelle was costing him scrutiny at work and lost his girlfriend. He was okay with losing the girlfriend, though. He was never one to get serious anyway. In fact, he almost giggled to himself when he remembered how the girl complained that he was more interested in the "delusional, hate-filled killer" than her before she left.
"Maybe you're a little too dedicated," she had said. "Maybe you're even as obsessed as the psycho accused you of being."
"Yeah, maybe," he said with a simple shrug, as if she had said that maybe it would rain that day.
Janelle complained constantly. He and her other "protectors," as she liked to call them, were too loud, they didn’t give her enough privacy, and why was he sitting there staring at her?
Well, Janelle, I’m doing it to make you squirm in your ugly little fat rolls before I pop your bubble of delusion and grandeur, he thought. But aloud, he would tell her he wasn’t staring at anyone or anything — just lost in thought, daydreaming.
One particular incident really set Janelle off when she was tried on a medication that made her puke her guts out for several hours. She wailed pitifully as a black nurse assisted her in the bathroom off her private room. Boris laughed hysterically at the sound of her retching and then struggled to put on a straight face whenever she emerged from the bathroom leaning on the nurse. Back and forth it went for hours. Eventually, Janelle felt so weak that the poor nurse, who was lighter than Janelle, had a hard time keeping her upright, and she slumped to the floor. Boris got a kick out of the scene — especially at the sight of her reaching desperately for a black person, of all people, whom Janelle had sworn to hate in print many times.
Janelle noticed him kicked back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head and yelled at him, "Why are you just sitting there like this is some kind of fucking comedy skit?!"
He sat forward, an angry look on his face, but before he could react or say anything, a doctor and a few nurses who had heard the shouting entered the room and finally got Janelle situated back in bed. She was given anti-nausea medication, and at the doctor’s insistence, Boris waited just outside the door.
When she awoke late in the evening, about half an hour before Boris was to leave, everything changed.
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