Grace Willows Memorial Hospital
Louie and Scott stood on either side of Mr. Caravelle’s bed. The old man was scribbling furiously on a notepad. He handed it to Scott.
“He says that Oscar cut his tongue out for talking to us. He cut it up in front of him and that was what was burning in the pot along with something he called ‘Devil’s Dung’.” Mr. Caravelle motioned for the pad and Scott handed it back to him. Again Mr. Caravelle scribbled and handed it back to Scott.
“Oscar isn’t a Satanist. He thinks that he is Satan.” Scott read the note.
“How old is Oscar?” Louie asked.
Scott handed the old man the notepad.
“He says he’s old.” Scott said.
“Over seventy?” Louie asked. Caravelle nodded affirmatively.
Scott handed the pad back to the man and he began writing again. Eventually, he handed it back to Scott.
“He says that he doesn’t want to live because Oscar is never going to let him live in peace.” Scott’s heart really went out to the old man. And he felt damned guilty that they still hadn’t caught this guy. “He says he wishes that he’d have died. He can’t hide out and even if he survives this, his life is over.”
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