“You need more, Echo,” Stagg had said. “This is just skimming the surface. What you need to do is talk to the people involved, find out what they were feeling at the time, and what they learned in hindsight.”
Like she had time for any of that! She was taking more than a full schedule of classes, and commuting home for her candle business on the weekend. While she frequented Jamestown junk stores in search of cheap treasure for her hobby-slash-business, she didn’t really know anyone in town.
It was dark by the time she reached the intersection of Route 60 and I-86, the lights of Jamestown visible. She drove on without pause. How could she get people to talk to her? Could she even figure out who to talk to? She noted her speed was way up there again.
At Steamburg, she took the West Bank Perimeter Road south into the deep woods and Pennsylvania. Finally, cranky and cramped, she pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse in South Fishburn. To her surprise, she found Harvest and Quinn arguing.
Harvest scowled as Echo unloaded two duffle bags of laundry from the bed.
“Why aren’t you at a football game, or a frat party?”
“Fredonia doesn’t have football.” Echo heaved the bags over her shoulders. “And I hate parties. Why are you two fighting? I could hear you from the road.”
“Harvest saw Mom today.” Quinn shifted her gaze from Echo to Harvest.
“She’s a patient at the state hospital.”
Echo nearly dropped the bags at Harvest’s words.
“All this BS about her existing in some other dimension, and she’s just a regular lunatic.” Harvest’s face went dark, her teeth showing as she spoke. “Will somebody please, just for once, let us in on the freakin joke? Mom’s in Papua New Guinea—wait, no she’s not, she’s a daughter of Circe living in the Twih, whatever that is—no, wait, she’s actually just a mental patient!”
“Calm down, Harvest, you’re gonna wake the Grams,” Quinn whispered.
“Let’s do that. Let’s confront them about this.”
“Oh, c’mon, Harvest. You don’t really think they’d lie about something like that,” Echo said.
“Why not? They managed to misdirect us our whole lives. What’s one more little white lie?”
Echo finally dropped the heavy bags, shaking out her arms. “Listen, Harvest, stop it. We’ve done some really crazy things, unbelievable things, magic things. Maybe we don’t have many answers, but this witch business is real. You know that, right?”
“Hold up.” Quinn raised her index finger, eyes far away. “You heard about the people rescued from the National Forest, right?”
Echo shuddered. “Yeah, the four who tried to take me down this summer.”
“Except there were five.”
The three stood in silence for a moment, pondering. “Well, Uncle Nick did zap those witches into the Twih. If they did get out—”
Quinn nodded. “Maybe Mom went with them.”
Harvest huffed out a sigh. “We’re being manipulated. Can’t you feel it?”
“Jeeze Louise, Harvest—what will it take for you to finally accept this. We defeated an evil coven of witches, banished a smoky blue demon.”
“Yeah, I remember. I was there. I was the one they were going to nail to an altar and set on fire. But you know what this all sounds like?”
Echo exchanged a look with Quinn. “What?”
“It sounds like an excellent resume for involuntary commitment.”
QUINN’S EMOTIONS TUMBLED, excitement vying with fear. “We don’t even know for certain that you saw Mom.”
“I’m certain. I can feel it.”
Despite Harvest’s understandable urge to find some rational explanation for the way the sisters were, one thing she didn’t deny was her powerful intuition. Quinn was forced to believe her.
“So, let’s just go see her.”
Harvest leaned on the Constable-Mobile. “There are all sorts of laws protecting patient information. I’m sure Mom didn’t walk in with an ID. I’ve searched. The woman doesn’t have any record of her existence. And let’s face it, even though we look like her, a lot, she doesn’t look much older than you, Quinn.”
“We have everything we need to prove she’s our mother,” Echo wrinkled her brow. “Those DNA tests, the ones that say we’re triplets. If she’s Mom, we share her mitochondrial DNA. Undeniable proof one way or the other.”
Quinn smiled. “This is why we convinced you to go to college.”
“You learn that stuff in high school now.” Echo snorted.
Harvest rolled her eyes. “They haven’t run a DNA test on her. Those things are expensive. Besides, they take a lot of time to process.”
“Might as well get the ball rolling then.” Echo picked up her laundry bags. “Let me get a load in before bed. Is there anything to eat?”
When Echo moved out of earshot, Quinn nodded. “Definitely a college student.”
ARMED WITH DNA TEST results, Harvest got in the back of Quinn’s car, Echo riding shotgun. The morning was darkened by a high overcast, making the bloom of autumn color stand out in contrast. Gloom fit the state hospital, with its two brick towers and glowering façade. Built in the 1890s, the rambling buildings still functioned as a psychiatric hospital.
Though Harvest had occasional business here, neither of her sisters had ever been inside. She hopped out of the car. “Admin is in the main building.”
“I hope we didn’t come down here for nothing,” Echo shut the car door. “The Fall Sale starts today. I’ve got candle business to attend to.”
“At least someone does,” Quinn said.
Harvest gave her the eye.
“What does that mean?” Echo glanced at her sisters.
Quinn gazed at the Victorian edifice. “Seems like nobody wants to come to your shop if a dead sheriff is dumped in the parking lot.”
“We need to keep on our toes if the four coven witches who tried to take Echo really are here,” Harvest urged them toward the front doors. Soon, they walked an empty corridor, broad and tall, stark despite the architectural detailing.
Harvest pushed through a dark wood door. “Most of the people I’ve worked with probably won’t be here on Saturday.”
“Why are you whispering?” Echo whispered.
“I don’t know.”
Jamie Everett sat at the reception desk. Harvest’s heart lifted for a moment. At least this was someone she knew. But how to explain why they were here?
“Hiya, Harvest. Hardly recognized you out of uniform. You’re not escorting a patient to court on a weekend?”
“Jamie, hey. Uh, no, we’re here visiting.”
“Oh. A relative? What’s the patient’s name?”
“Trinity Hutchinson.”
Jamie started typing at the computer at her desk. Quinn stopped her. “I don’t think she’s listed by name.”
“Ah!” Jamie did some more typing. “Our Little Girl Lost. Jane Doe 27. Do you know if she has insurance?”
“Probably not. We don’t have any documents, but we do have DNA tests.” Harvest held up the folders.
Jamie smiled ironically. “This is way above my pay grade. Let me make a call.”
The three sisters sat in creaky plastic chairs. “You think we’ll get to see her?”
“I don’t know, Echo. Maybe Jamie’s calling the insurance police or something.”
“Is there such a thing?”
Quinn scowled. “No, there isn’t. Harvest, knock it off. We’re nervous enough as it is.”
Harvest recognized the woman in nursing whites. She had been pushing Mom’s wheelchair the other day. The nurse dropped off a stack of reports as Jamie put down the phone. “Piper, could you take these visitors to Ward 6? Dr. Pye would like to speak with them.”
“Ward 6?” The nurse turned, smile barely there. “Yes, of course. Ward 6. Follow me.”
Chapter 5
A breezeway, two corridors and one flight of stairs later, they followed Piper past open doors that flooded the
second story with gray light. Patients in pajamas or hospital gowns lingered, some curious about the visitors, some utterly zoned out.
“They’re just people like us,” Piper said. “Mental illness is just like any other illness.”
“That’s the third time you’ve said that.” Echo walked beside Piper. “We get it.”
“Oh, was I talking out loud? Sorry. I’m really new here, a student nurse. It’s hard getting used to... some of the patients. Ward 6 is my least favorite. I’m so sorry, I don’t want to make a bad impression. We do good work here.”
Echo offered a smile. “It’s okay. We’re a little freaked out, too.”
A room decorated like a waiting room truncated the hall. A tall, rail of a man moved to meet them. Dressed in a lab coat, shiny head covered in wispy white hair and age spots, the guy looked about a hundred years old. His teeth were too big and too white when he smiled.
“Cedric Pye.” He held out a gnarled hand and introductions were made. “Please sit. Miss Zimmerman, if you could find an orderly and escort Jane Doe 27 here, please.”
“Right away, Dr. Pye.”
They sat in a circle around a low table covered with ancient magazines.
“I hope we’re not wasting your time, Dr. Pye. We haven’t had much contact with our mother. A DNA test can verify that we’re relatives.” Harvest handed over the reports.
He took them tapping them on the table without looking. “Federal regulations would prevent me from discussing her case with you, and I’m sure if it came down to it, we wouldn’t be able to fund a DNA test anyway. Budget cuts. Always budget cuts. However, I have treated my share of catatonia patients. I don’t see why a visit would hurt. I’m more interested in getting Jane to eat than identifying her progeny.” He smiled with those out sized dentures again.
Echo felt a stab. “Mom’s not eating?”
“Jane, or, Trinity is it? Lovely name. Trinity isn’t doing much of anything. She’s in a catatonic state, the same as when we found her.”
“Was she wearing ’80s clothes?” Echo asked. “There’s a photo in the folder.”
Pye pulled a five-by-seven picture of their mother and father before they married. “My, there is a strong resemblance.” He eyed the sisters. “You all share it. I wasn’t here for the intake, so I can’t say what she was wearing. Ah!”
Echo watched Piper roll a patient in a wheelchair into the room and park it at a gap between the chairs.
Dr. Pye showed off his dentures again. “Pleasure to see you this morning, Jane. Or should I call you Trinity?”
Mom! It was definitely Mom. Maybe Echo had only seen her in photos and in dreams, but she had no doubt. At the name Trinity, Mom’s hands stirred in her lap. Otherwise, she sat perfectly still. Her eyes were half lidded, mouth poised as if ready to smile. Long black hair hung in bangs and down her back.
“Mom? It’s Echo.” When she didn’t respond, Echo stood up and moved in front of her. “I’m here with Quinn and Harvest.”
After a moment, the corners of Mom’s mouth lifted, now even more poised to smile if not quite there yet. Harvest and Quinn stood, crowding Echo.
“Can you hear us, Mom?” Quinn put a hand over Mom’s folded ones.
“Dr. Pye says you’re not eating.” Harvest stood behind Echo. “We have your recipe book. Do you want us to make you something?”
They all startled when Mom let out a sigh and a low, satisfied sound. Then her features blanked again.
“Mom?” They all tried again, but their mother remained a statue.
“Excellent!” Pye clapped his hands making them all jump.
Harvest lowered her brows. “Excellent?”
“This is more progress than we’ve made with her since her intake. I’m willing to wave HIPPA protections unless I’m proven otherwise. Can I count on you to visit frequently? I believe it may be key to reducing her catatonia. From there, we can focus on her holistic health. I’ll notify the front desk. Feel free to visit as long as you like.” Pye stood up, shaking hands again. “I’m afraid I have rounds, but I hope to see you all again soon.”
THEY STAYED ANOTHER two hours, but Mom remained in her silent, placid state. Frustrated, Quinn kept reaching for the book in her briefcase purse. It looked like a cheesy recipe keeper, but when flipped upside down and backwards, it transformed. The thick volume held spells, most of which Quinn had barely glanced at. Still, when the Jade Coven came for her, she cast a spell in panic with horrific consequences. Since then, she felt leery about using the grimoire.
Piper stuck her head in the door. “Can I get you anything? Coffee?”
“I think we’re done here,” Quinn shrugged. “But we’ll be back soon, Mom, I promise.”
They followed Piper as she wheeled Mom out. “I heard you ask the doctor, and yeah, totally retro,” Piper said to Echo. “Acid washed indigo jeans with a pinstripe, multicolored denim jacket, closer-to-God-bangs and a big side-swoosh of hair tied in a big bow. Different colored high tops. You got style, Trinity, I’ll give you that.”
Quinn felt touched at Piper’s one-way rapport. She treated Mom as more than some zonked out vegetable. From behind a closed door, a voice roared at them.
“The witches are here! Witches! They’ll kill us all!”
Piper picked up the pace. “Sorry. He’s one of the guys who was found in the woods near where your mom was picked up. I guess he used to be a dentist, but he’s definitely full-blown psycho now. He claims witches took him to some kind of, I don’t know, fairy land.”
Quinn exchanged expressions with her sisters.
“When I’m done with my training, I’m certainly going to look for work outside the psychiatric field. I try to be sympathetic. Your mother is the only patient I like on this ward. She’s a great listener. I just hope we eventually get to talk.”
“I just worry about getting time to see her,” Harvest said. “Echo’s in school in Fredonia. Me and Quinn work full time.”
“Oh, you’ll have time,” Piper said. She stopped outside an opened room. “Oh. I mean, you care. So many people here don’t have someone who cares. You’ll make time. I’m sure of it.”
They drove back home in silence, Quinn feeling that they all shared the same fear. Could they make enough time to help Mom back to health? Even now, she was planning a surprise visit to Steve Bender on a Saturday.
Once she dropped her sisters off, she headed back toward Warren. The farm where Bender lived with his half-brother was about halfway to town, isolated by miles of woods. Of course, so was everything around here. She spotted the camper and pulled up the dirt road leading to a barn. She expected some beat-up, mid-70s Minnie-Winnie, but was surprised to see a long, sleek trailer with popped out sides and awnings. She walked up the retractable stairs, peeking inside as she knocked. It actually looked nicer inside than her last apartment.
Deep, booming notes turned her around. The sound of bass scales led her to the rickety red barn. Steve Bender sat on an amplifier playing what sounded like a ‘50s bass run. His hair was long and blue on one side, head shaved on the other. His sweatshirt featured a horned monster wearing a crown under the legend “GoatWhore.” Perhaps this was part of his ensemble that had him sent home.
“Damn, you scared the crap out of me!” The bass fumbled to a staticky silence. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Quinn Hutchinson, your new case worker.”
“Hey. Steve. Nice to meet you. But I don’t need a case worker. I got a part-time job after school, I’ll graduate in a few months, and my lawyer is already emancipating me from my asshole step-dad and mom. My life’s never been better. What happened to Rae? I liked her. She had that cool mom vibe.”
“New director. She shook things up a little. Rae says hi. So, your own mother, does she lack that vibe?”
“Y’know, I still love my Mom. It’s just... I’m disappointed in her. For a long time, it was me and her, right? We didn’t have money, but things were cool. So why does she need a guy so bad that she
’d hook up with that douche-bag Mike? She’s so weak.”
Quinn gave him a sad shrug. “Yeah, it happens. Welcome to adulting.”
“That’s about as much psychotherapy as I can take on the weekend. Why are you here, to spy on me?”
“Yep.”
Steve smirked. “Nice that you’re honest.”
Quinn looked at a flyer hanging on a barn nail. “Halloween party, huh?”
“Hard to get good paying gigs when half the band is under twenty-one. We’ve been going down to Pittsburgh on the weekends, cutting some demo tracks. So we’re putting out the demos as an album, maybe sell a few, and, hey, five bucks a head, that should pay for the pop and chips.”
Quinn walked around the makeshift stage. “Not everyone could pull themselves out of your situation so successfully. No arrests, only a few disciplinary actions at school, good grades, plans for the future. You can pat yourself on the back for that.”
“Yeah. Yay for me. I survived my mother’s asshole boyfriend.”
“I’m serious. I’ve seen more than my share of the same story. It can really twist your head up. Are you planning to go to college?”
“I’ve had enough of school, man. I got the grades, I have friends, I’ve won art awards, I run track, but the teachers, the principals, they look at me like I’m some kind of freak. It’s like they expect me to be a victim, and when I’m not, it just freaks them out more.” He played the opening notes of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony—dum dum dum duuummmmm.
Quinn had gotten the same feeling from Emily Hall, an uneasiness with Steve. “I’m not one to tell you not to express yourself, Steve. But college is a lot more accepting of creativity than high school.” She smiled, thinking of Echo. “It’s where weird kids go to blossom.”
“I make bank working on cars. I learned from my dad before he died, and my brother, Bill. Half-brother. Whatever. Between me and Bill, we can fix just about anything. People pay good money for fixes. I mean, you can’t buy a camper like that working minimum wage.” He thumbed out the barn door.
Resting Witch Face Page 3
