by CC Dragon
I pulled off the lawn gently but hit the gas when I got on the road. The car had pickup to spare and for a huge car, it handled well. The shocks were nothing to be impressed with but it was style over function. I’m sure a Honda would’ve been more practical, but practical wasn’t my life anymore. No schedule of classes, no list of appointments.
I drove to the house but didn’t go in. Instead, I decided to explore my new surroundings through my own eyes without any narration by Greg, Ivy, Mary Lou or John. Lots of older homes and lovely little places to eat.
I cruised until I found what I was looking for and pulled into a parking spot near a strip mall with a little cell phone store. That was another thing I needed. I’d been on some family plan with my parents, cheaper in college. I needed to upgrade.
Twenty minutes later, I walked out with a new fancy phone that did Internet, instant messaging—everything but my taxes. Plus, it was almost the same color as my car. I’d gone a little over the edge there, but I didn’t care. With cell phone in pocket, I went next door and got some takeout Cajun food.
I stopped by the Internet Café since it was on the way home and I needed a caffeine jolt. Already I had routes, and places looked familiar. The zippy ladies at The Third Eye had replied to my question.
Give us the girl’s name and we’ll approach the family.
I was thrilled! All the work wasn’t on me. Other people knew about this stuff and could handle it.
Plus I had an attachment on the email. I opened it and found a listing of The Third Eye practitioners in New Orleans. They taught classes and skills at the store. Meeting people in person would be a lot better. It’d feel truly real then. I printed off the list.
I drove to my home, which I hoped would be blissfully empty. It was after two in the afternoon. Ivy and I had worked out a new schedule. She’d work for me from noon to two five days a week. The rest of the time she could do the show or handle her other clients. Greg didn’t have a key to the place and hopefully Ivy wouldn’t just let her cousin in to loiter. It was my house now.
I parked the boat in the garage and put the top on the car just in case something decided to make my new car its new home. It fit fine, but the garage was probably older than the car.
I stood in the draft of the garage door for a moment. My new house was haunted. My new car was an ancient green boat. My career was undefined. But I didn’t feel abnormal. That was the weird part. I didn’t feel like a freak at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
For the first time, I was in the house alone and felt entirely at ease. The case was over. My life was more or less settled. I ate my takeout, to Missy’s annoyance, and spent the evening reading up on my new toy. I’d need to get my possessions from my parents’ garage and my house wired for Internet and cable.
I was enjoying the first completely peaceful sleep since I’d arrived when Gran showed up.
“What’s so important? I got the killer in jail. Is Warren acting up?” I grumbled.
She waved off my complaint. “A gun?”
“So?” I shrugged. “Your ex-husband is the one who taught me how to use them.”
“Don’t refer to your grandfather like that. I don’t like guns. It’s too dangerous.” We were in the white domed room again.
“Is this a time-out space or something? The cosmic principal’s office?” I knew it was the entryway to the Other Side, but for some reason I enjoyed teasing her about not giving me concrete info.
“I don’t like that. And I don’t like this whole career thing.”
“You said I could help people. How better than this? It’s what you did. Isn’t it?” I asked.
“You can’t help people if you’re dead. These are real killers you’re dealing with not just ghosts.” She was pacing. “I stayed out of it more. You’re getting too close.”
“You’re starting to sound like Greg. Why am I here if you didn’t want me to take over for you?” This was too much. I was doing what she wanted and she still wasn’t happy? Could I please anyone in my life, ever?
“I do, but I don’t want you in danger. I didn’t think I’d see you being strangled. And there was nothing I could do.” Gran seemed to wither as she paced.
“I never thought I’d be in that situation either, but it turned out fine. You know I wouldn’t be happy sitting in an office being safe. I thought I would, but I don’t want that anymore. I can do this. Trust me. Plus thanks to your good finances, I won’t need to earn a living. I can help the people who need it and not be a psychic friend. How did you get all this money anyway? I mean, someone had to work really hard for this.”
“Never you mind about that. I inherited it the same as you, so it doesn’t matter. Remember you don’t have to help that Judge or Matt all the time.”
“What’s wrong with John?” I asked.
“Nothing. I just don’t want to see you in danger more than absolutely necessary. Your grandfather is very concerned as well.”
“Really?” The idea that he was the least bit concerned was laughable.
“There is no negativity here, Deanna. No resentment or guilt or hate.”
“Tell that to Warren. He’s a ball full of negativity. You want to worry about someone, worry about getting him to back off his brother. I haven’t seen him but I know he’s not going to lose so easily.”
Gran looked down, around, anywhere but at me. Dead or alive, the signs of lying and avoidance were the same.
“What? What are you hiding from me?” I asked.
“Is it wrong to spend time with you?” she asked. “You’ve finally accepted your life. I can help you.”
She was hiding something from me. “No, I’m happy to spend time with you but it’s a really dumb idea to lie to a psychic. I might not catch on right away but I’m not totally clueless. You should know that more than anyone. What’s happened?” I demanded.
“You were just so happy that I thought it could wait until morning. But maybe this will make you see what you’re getting in to. It was fate, Deanna. Know that. His fate.” Gran disappeared.
I sat bolt upright in bed and caught my breath. Each time it got a little easier to manage the recovery. Especially when I was distracted, the answer to my question came more quickly than I could process.
Darren was dead.
I could see his lifeless body on the floor of his cell. His wrists were slit vertically and deep. The mark of a suicide attempt that was serious. How the hell could he do that in jail?
They were together now. The twins. Warren got his way just like he said he would.
There was no point to it, but I slipped on a pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt, socks and some gym shoes. I yanked my hair into a ponytail, so as not to scare people, and I grabbed my keys.
Ten minutes later, I pulled my green boat into the parking lot of the jail. I asked the young female desk sergeant to see Darren. They didn’t know he was dead.
“Yeah, you’re the lady who was in here earlier with the judge. Nice ass on that one. Sorry. It’s past visiting hours. We don’t need to rile them up.” She snapped her gum at me.
“He’s my patient. I need to see him now,” I informed her.
“Look, I saw you on TV and all. I’m sure you’re good but no special treatment, no exceptions. Visiting hours or special circumstances only. You can bring him a teddy bear in the morning.” She gave me a smug smile.
“He’ll still be dead.” Someone had to know. I couldn’t stand the vision of his dead body on the floor of the concrete cell all night.
Her jaw dropped so I could see the purple color of her gum. “What?” she asked.
“Go see for yourself. Or send someone in. Just don’t leave him there.” I wanted to call Matt, but what could he do? Vouch for me, sure, but I didn’t need approval. I didn’t need to see the body. My visions were in living—or not so living—color, thank you very much.
The desk sergeant punched a button and picked up the receiver. “Check on cell 8.”
“You don
’t believe me?” I tugged at the hem of my shirt.
“How can that be? He’s isolated in a locked cell.”
“Self-serve.” I had a feeling Warren had a hand in this.
“Sure.” She looked me up and down four times, not knowing what else to say, before the shouting began.
“Man down,” someone yelled.
A bag marked paramedics was pulled out of a closet. The pounding of rubber soles on the floor drowned out the voices. At least they could say they tried.
“You can call the coroner. He’s dead.” I walked away from the desk and paced the dingy waiting area. It was a quiet night tonight. Not that I’d been in many police stations at this hour.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the desk sergeant making calls. I didn’t know what to do at that point. Leave? Stay and see Darren? I eased into an ugly yellow plastic chair and sighed. Not two seconds later, Warren appeared next to me, smirking.
“Told you.” He stuck his tongue out at me and wagged his hands by his ears. “And the best part is, you did it!”
“I what?” I tried to whisper but that little brat had my full attention.
“You told him they wouldn’t kill him for his crimes. He knew I wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t want to go back into the system. He only had one alternative once he got all that through his thick head. All I had to do was slip him a razor. There were plenty in the evidence room.” Warren danced with a big smile.
“Get lost,” I murmured under my breath.
Warren finally vanished and I felt ready to puke. Darren had been committing the murders hoping to get caught. I thought he’d wanted to be stopped, but he’d equally wanted to be executed.
He’d never believed I could help him get rid of Warren. The more I learned about Warren, the more I suspected Darren was right. Little Warren had nothing to do all day, every day, but think up ways to torture his brother.
I’d been totally wrong.
I looked up at the hallway where the men were walking away. He’d lost way too much blood. They’d given up now. In the midst of them, I saw Warren and Darren walking side-by-side. Both ghosts. Darren was smiling now. The first time I’d ever seen him smile or sensed him feeling happy even a little bit.
They approached me. I didn’t know what to say so I didn’t even try to speak.
“Thanks, Doc. I might’ve waited for a sentence, if you hadn’t told me.” Darren put a hand on his brother’s head.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I did. I couldn’t be apart from him anymore, not the way we were and locked up. Don’t worry, we’re done hurting the living. We’re going to check things out on the Other Side. Some old lady told us it was pretty nice there, wherever it is. But we’ll probably end up in hell. No reason to face judgment twice or alone.”
I didn’t know what to say. It was too late to change any of it. “Goodbye.”
I got up to leave as John rushed through the door completely out of breath. “What happened?” He grabbed me by the shoulders.
“You need to work out more, if you’re going to keep hanging out with me. You’re headed for a heart attack.” I turned off the part of my brain that registered my failure and tried to be normal. “What are you doing here?”
“They called and said you were here. That there was a death.” He cleared his throat and got a few deep breaths in him finally. We got out of the way as the coroner wheeled a gurney through the main hallway toward the cells. “And I hope you’re kidding about the heart attack.”
“Figures they’d call you. Darren’s dead.” I sat back down and stared at my old gym shoes. I couldn’t push away what Warren and Darren had told me.
“Dead? Another inmate? He was supposed to be isolated.” John smacked his knee with his hand.
“Relax, he was isolated. He did it to himself. Warren helped though.” I stuffed my hands in my jeans pockets and slumped further in the seat. “I’m such a failure.”
He was silent for a few seconds. Finally he shook his head. “It’s not your fault. You were trying to help him.”
“I told him he wouldn’t get the death penalty. That he’d probably get a psych sentence, and I’d work with him to get rid of Warren. He knew Warren wouldn’t go away, so if the court wouldn’t do it for him...” I shrugged the rest.
“At least he won’t get to hurt anyone else.” John watched as they wheeled Darren’s body covered by a sheet from the police station and into the waiting vehicle.
I rolled my head back and stared at the cracked tile ceiling. “True.”
“Want to go get something to eat? Some coffee?” he asked.
“No, I’m going home. Sorry they dragged you down here for nothing.” I walked out of the jail and slumped in my car when John opened and then closed the door for me.
He leaned over the door. “Come on, you don’t want to be alone.”
“That’s just it. I’m never really alone.” I threw the car in reverse and puttered out of the parking lot.
On the way home, I spotted a liquor store that was still open. It’d worked in college. Whenever I had alcohol I was much less receptive to the visions and the ghosts. I ran in and got a bottle of chilled Aftershock. I was glad they had my favorite shot beverage already on ice.
An hour later I was home and in bed with five hot and cold cinnamon-flavored double shots in me. For a change I felt alone. Thoughts of Warren and Darren were far away. Which was good, because I was pretty sure I’d be uninvited to work for the cops in the morning.
I’d driven my first caught criminal-patient to suicide.
Bad therapist, extremely bad therapist!
Chapter Twenty-Five
Two days of wallowing later, I was over myself. Over the drama and self-blame that were to be expected when losing a patient. Darren could only count as an almost patient, however I’d had my hopes up about him. Anyone who’d spent as much time as I had in school learning how to help people had to be a bit of idealist.
I hated losing, but if every patient were fixable in a few sessions, my field wouldn’t really exist. Not that my field was exactly my field anymore.
I wasn’t completely sure what my field was now. What was I sure of? However I knew what I wasn’t. I wasn’t a full-time teacher. I wasn’t a normal psychologist. I wasn’t a good daughter.
My father had left tons of messages. I’d ignored them all so far. I didn’t need to be told I was messing up my life. It was my life and time I defined it, without worrying what they’d say.
I tried to focus on what I was. I was now a licensed driver in the state of Louisiana with a legal car and my insurance transferred to a local rep. I was free from the teaching job offers.
I’d called all the universities and politely turned them down yesterday. I left the door open to guest lecture at Tulane, just in case I got the urge again. Or in case I needed a change of scenery.
I was, however, not employed with the New Orleans Police Department. I’d decided I would consult, but not work for any one organization. No doubt about it, I could afford to freelance.
I couldn’t be subject to anyone’s rules or restrictions. My gifts just didn’t work that way. Not having a structured day job would feel very weird at first. I was used to order and ghosts and psychic vibes getting in the way. Now they would be my way. One day soon I’d make it to The Third Eye in person and meet others like myself face-to-face. People who understood and had helped me via email. It was a bit scary and comforting at the same time.
The dead really did have it easier in a lot of respects. No taxes or department of motor vehicles. No money or stress or need for health insurance. I had to chat with Gran one day about how that all worked on the Other Side. But I had something on the schedule for today that I couldn’t miss.
I’d promised Matt I’d be at the station by eight-thirty, so I skipped breakfast and cruised to the station with my unsigned paperwork on the seat and my Kel-Tec .380 tucked in my jeans. I walked in and fo
und the same desk sergeant from the night of Darren’s death was on duty. She was calmly snapping her gum and answering phones, until she looked up and saw me.
The chewing stopped and she got off the phone. “Can I ask you something before you go see Matt?”
“Of course.” I smiled.
“If you see these things—I mean, know them, can you tell if I’ll ever get married?” She gave an exasperated sigh that showed the lines on her deeply tanned face.
I smiled to seem sympathetic, but inside I cringed. I saw what I saw. I’d never tried to see anything except the stuff for the crime or about a ghost or something relevant. Death was powerful. Romance wasn’t so cut and dry, but there was no guarantee I’d blow it either.
“Let me see.” I studied her deeper than the surface.
“Do you need a bracelet or my watch?” she offered.
I frowned but kept the “you’re crazy” look to myself. I’d never needed that stuff before. If my friend’s boyfriend was cheating, I knew it, and it wasn’t because I held his watch. Touch did give more intimate knowledge but sometimes a little distance made it easier. “I don’t do props, it’s okay.”
“You must be really strong.” She sounded more and more impressed.
I didn’t believe that for a second. I let my mind wander for a moment over her and her space. Marriage was the only thought I put in my head. I got a flash of a man, tall and dark-haired with piercing green eyes.
Not drop-dead gorgeous by any means, but he had strong features. Only a bit out of shape with the start of a beer belly. I was at a party with them and they were married but I couldn’t tell what the party was for. Maybe I wasn’t really going to be there, I couldn’t tell if I was just dropping in or I was really there.
I pulled myself out of it before I got too curious. I had what I needed to know and didn’t want to know any more.
“Yes, I see you married to a nice-looking guy.”
“When?” she asked.
I wanted to say I didn’t know but I vaguely had a feel for it. “Under two years.”
