The third eye (also known as the inner eye) is a mystical and esoteric concept referring in part to the ajna (brow) chakra in certain Eastern and Western spiritual traditions. It is also spoken of as the gate that leads within to inner realms and spaces of higher consciousness. In New Age spirituality, the third eye may symbolize a state of enlightenment and is often associated with visions, clairvoyance, precognition and out-of-body experiences. People who have allegedly developed the capacity to use their third eye are sometimes known as Seers.
The mention of chakras made Fox cast his mind back to his years as a curious medical student. According to traditional Indian medicine, chakras were centers of physical and psychic energy found in the body and its spiritual counterpart, the ‘astral body’. Chakras acted as circular portals through which the universal life force could enter and exit. This chimed with his aunt’s theory that death echoes were caused by an explosive exodus of energy at life’s end.
Chakras had been around for thousands of years but like other ancient belief systems had no scientific evidence to support their existence or therapeutic value. New Age practitioners claimed that they worked by interacting with the body’s ductless endocrine glands and lymphatic system, feeding in positive bio energies and disposing of negative ones. They stressed that the location of the seven major chakras along the spinal cord coincided, approximately, with the various organs of the endocrine system as well as the main ganglia of the central nervous system.
Symbolized by individual crystals and stylized lotus flowers, each chakra corresponded with one of the seven colors of the visible spectrum of the rainbow. Chakras governed specific mental, physical, emotional and spiritual qualities and their spiritual importance increased the higher up the spinal column they were located. The lowest, located between the genitals and the anus, was red, symbolized by a lotus flower with four petals and associated with pure physical sexuality, emotional security and spiritual survival. The highest, located on the crown of the head, was violet, symbolized by a lotus flower with a thousand petals and associated with pure consciousness, inner wisdom and death of the physical body. The theory was that harmonizing and clearing the chakras led to total physical, emotional, mental and spiritual health. Fox noted that the sixth chakra, the so-called third eye located between the eyebrows, was indigo in color and guessed this was how Delaney’s cult had got its name. He Googled ‘Indigo Family’ but found nothing.
Fox now turned his attention to Delaney. Remembering that his birth family were horse breeders in northern California, Fox entered “Delaney horse breeders northern California’ into the search engine and got an immediate hit: the Delaney Stud Farm near Sacramento. He clicked on the website and discovered that the Delaney family came from generations of horse breeders who had emigrated from Ireland in the early 1900s and founded a business in California, breeding and trading thoroughbreds. Fox rang the number on the contact page and a woman answered. “Delaney Stud Farm. How can I help you?”
“I’m calling to see if you know of a Regan Delaney?”
There was a pause, then a clearing of the throat. “Regan Delaney is no longer associated with the family business and hasn’t been for many years. The Delaney Stud can take no responsibility for any issues you might have with him.” Fox explained that he had no issues with Regan Delaney but was a psychiatrist who needed some background information on him in order to help a patient. There was another pause. “His brother is away on business, Dr. Fox. Give me your contact number and I’ll get him to call you.”
The reaction to Regan Delaney’s name disconcerted and intrigued Fox enough to make him search the web for more information on the family. After almost an hour he had discovered that the son of the founder of the American business had died fifteen years ago, leading to a very public legal schism. Fox could find fewer details of the schism except that one of the two main beneficiaries of the will had stripped his share of the inheritance out of the business. Lawsuits followed, involving charges and counter-charges of insanity and bringing the family business into disrepute. What happened to the heir who took out his assets wasn’t recorded but the original business almost went bankrupt. Only now was it back on an even footing.
Guiltily, Fox realized that his desire to delve into Jane Doe’s background had as much to do with his own need to find out about Delaney and his cult as it did with concern for her welfare. What’s more, his little fishing expedition had raised more questions than it had answered. As Fox pondered this and determined to put his patient’s happiness and wellbeing before his own prejudice, there was a knock on the door.
Chapter 29
Jane Doe couldn’t believe the news when Fox told her about her father. When the psychiatrist had said there was something he needed to tell her, she’d guessed it might be about last night or Samantha or a new development with the killer. Never in her wildest dreams did she think it would be this.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. The DNA test was conclusive. You have a clear genetic link.”
Jane Doe had assumed that being found again — by her own father, no less — would make her feel ecstatic. At last she could rediscover her identity and once again be the person she was supposed to be. Strangely, however, her immediate reaction when Fox told her the news was panic. As desperate as she was to be reunited with her father, he now represented the unknown. In the last few days Fox had become more familiar to her than any forgotten family. ‘What’s his name?”
“Regan Delaney.”
She repeated the name slowly to herself, tasting every syllable. It worried her that his name tasted bitter on her tongue. “What’s he like?”
“Meet him and decide for yourself.”
“But what if I don’t recognize him? What if I don’t remember him?”
“You probably won’t recognize him. You don’t yet recognize yourself.”
“What if I don’t like him?”
“Then you don’t like him. There’s no law that says daughters have to like their fathers.” He smiled. “You’re not a minor. He can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” Fox held out his hand to her, as he had on the day they first met. “Come, let me take you to him.”
She met him in the conference room. He was alone and Jane Doe’s first impression when Regan Delaney stood to greet her was how striking he looked. Surely she should remember a father as impressive as this — and yet he was a total stranger. He stepped forward and took her shaking hands in his. “Sorcha, you were lost but now are found.”
“Sorcha,” she repeated slowly. She pronounced it as he did — Sorraca — and the taste of strawberries exploded on her tongue. She had liked the taste of ‘Jane’ but this was better, much better. “Is Sorcha my name?”
A nod. “It’s Irish. It means radiant light.’ He moved closer to embrace her and she became hyper-aware of his every detail: his smell; his voice; the lines on his face; the way his eyes creased when he smiled. She realized she was searching desperately for anything about him that she remembered. How could this striking man, her own father, be such a stranger to her? Then she remembered the night of the fire, when she had first spied her reflection in a mirror and not recognized her own face. Delaney had turned to Fox. “Could you leave us for a moment?”
Fox glanced at her and she nodded. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
“Please sit,, Sorcha,” Delaney said, after Fox had left. “What can I tell you? What do you want to know?”
She sat facing him, mesmerized by his eyes, which seemed to draw her in and make the rest of the world fade out of focus. “Tell me everything,” she said, as questions tumbled out of her mouth. “Where do I come from? How old am I? What’s my family like? Do I have any brothers and sisters? Where’s my mother?”
He smiled and raised his hands. “Slow down. There’s no rush.” For the next half-hour, Delaney explained about the Indigo Family, their home — a private Eden deep in the Oregon wilderness — and how its members strived t
o explore all their senses in order to reach beyond the physical and become one with the spiritual and universal. He spoke with such passion about the beauty of the land and of the family’s beliefs that she found herself falling under his spell. Whenever she asked detailed questions, however, he would tell her to wait until she returned to the bosom of the family, ‘when everything will be answered’. The more he talked about exploring the limits of the senses, the more her own synaesthesia made sense. “Where do I get it from?”
“From both your mother and me,” he said. “She’s passed to the other realm now but your mother first showed me the path and introduced me to the Indigo Family.”
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful, like you. She too was fair. You’re a younger version of her.” He reached for the locket around Sorcha’s neck. Her right hand sprang up defensively but he gently pushed it away and opened the locket. “This was hers. Your mother wore it always. Until she passed.” He showed Sorcha the photograph inside. “This was you as a baby. She loved you very much.”
Sorcha took the silver heart from him and looked again at the picture — at the stranger she had once been — and thought of the mother who had loved her. If the locket had been important to her before, it was now precious beyond words. “Why did I leave the Indigo Family?”
“I don’t know. You were always headstrong. I think I neglected you and you ran away to teach me a lesson.” His voice became serious. “I read in the newspapers about what you did for those girls. Tell me what else has happened to you. Dr. Fox says you’ve been having hallucinations.”
Delaney had Fox’s gift for listening and she found herself telling him everything: her amnesia, her hallucinations and the killer who had stapled her newspaper photograph to three murder victims, tried to abduct her from her room and attacked her last night. As he listened, the expression on his face changed — sympathetic when she spoke of her amnesia and hallucinations, angry when she told him about the killer — but he never interrupted.
Finally, for no other reason than it seemed natural to do so, she told him about her death-echo synaesthesia. As she spoke, she studied his face but he betrayed neither surprise nor skepticism. He just nodded understandingly. He seemed to know her better than she knew herself and she realized, suddenly, that he probably did. “Who else knows about this?” he asked.
“Dr. Fox, but he’s promised to keep it off the record. I don’t want to be treated as a freak.”
“Do you trust Dr. Fox to keep his counsel?”
“Completely.”
He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t be frightened of this. Embrace it. The mothú in all its shapes and forms has been around for centuries, nurtured as a gift that makes us special, chosen. All those with the mothú possess the third eye, and have the potential to see beyond the normal realm. And your mothú is unusually strong. When you return home all will become clearer. You won’t feel an outsider among the Indigo Family because most have some form of the mothú. There your gift will be understood, cherished and nurtured. Only we can fully appreciate you.” He paused and smiled at her. “They’re eagerly awaiting word of you and are expecting me to bring you back. We must return as soon as possible.”
The thought of leaving Tranquil Waters and Fox snapped her back to reality and sent a surge of panic coursing through her. “But I need time. Dr. Fox is treating me.”
He nodded slowly and smiled. “I understand why you’re nervous but there’s nothing for you here. Dr. Fox doesn’t really care for you, Sorcha — not like your family. He’s only interested in your condition. You’re a puzzle to him. Nothing more. My understanding of retrograde amnesia is that your memory could come back at any time, with or without Dr. Fox’s treatment. There’s little modern medicine can do to discover your lost identity, apart from reassuring you that you’re safe and finding ways to stimulate your memory.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “Surely the best way of doing that is to return to the place you’ve lived in all your life and be reunited with your family? We can teach you more about your powers than any psychiatrist.” His face hardened. “And now I know there’s a dangerous killer who means you harm, you must come home.”
She still felt anxious about leaving with this stranger. “But…”
Delaney put a finger over her lips. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.” He looked into her eyes and flashed a paternal smile, which stirred within her a deep sense of longing — and belonging. “You’re my daughter, Sorcha. You belong with me. You belong with your family.”
Staring at her father, she noticed his aura for the first time and realized it was subtly different to any she had seen before.
Chapter 30
For a few hours Fox put Jane Doe — or Sorcha as he would have to learn to call her — out of his mind and concentrated on his other patients. Later, however, as he prepared to leave for the day, he found his thoughts returning to her; he wondered how her meeting with her father had gone and what she intended to do about his reappearance in her life. When he had expressed concern about his patient returning to a cult, Professor Fullelove had dismissed his fears, believing it was in Jane’s best interests to be reunited with her father and return to whatever her old life was. There was no medical reason to keep her at the clinic and after the recent abduction attempts it would be safer for her and everyone else at Tranquil Waters if she left. Fox told himself that whatever happened was out of his hands but the thought of his vulnerable patient leaving before he had fathomed her intriguing gifts frustrated him, and the idea of her returning to a cult alarmed him.
He went to look for her in her room. She wasn’t there so he checked the television lounge, the indoor swimming pool area and the art therapy studio. Although she wasn’t in any of those places, he was surprised by how many fellow residents knew her. “Try the physical therapy room, Doctor. Jane likes her exercise.”
When he checked the gym and asked the orderly supervising the exercise machines, one of the residents checked her watch. “Knowing Jane, she’ll be on the running trail about now. She says it helps clear her mind.”
Knowing Jane. The phrase provoked a smile. The residents and the others he had encountered clearly had no problems with Jane Doe’s identity. As he wandered outside, the lawns and the small lake were bathed in golden evening light.
“Dr. Fox.” The familiar voice made him turn toward the setting sun. For a moment the low angle of the light blinded him. Then he blinked and saw Jane Doe running toward him with effortless graceful strides. Two officers were shadowing her from a discreet distance. Both were panting hard. Watching her, he registered the curve of Jane’s neck, the shape of her profile and the way the sun caught her hair. As she got closer, her luminous green eyes drew his attention. When she slowed and fell into step beside him she was breathing harder than usual and her skin seemed to glow. Despite her exertion, she exuded a clean, fragrant scent of soap and musk. “How’s Samantha?”
“She’s fine. How did it go with your father, Jane?”
She smiled. “The name’s Sorcha.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve only known you as Jane and it’s hard to change.”
“It’s OK. You can call me whatever you like.” She reached out and touched his arm. The fleeting contact was like an electric shock, raising the hairs on his arms, inflaming his skin. In that instant, sense ambushed and defenses breached, he saw her for the first time not as a patient but as a woman in her physical prime. “Can I talk to you about my dad?”
He took a breath and composed himself. “Of course you can.” He led her down to the lake as the two cops watched from a distance. “So what did you think of him?”
“It’s bizarre but he seems to know everything about me, all my hopes and fears. He always says just the right thing to reassure or inspire me. I like him.”
“He’s pretty charismatic. Did he talk about the cult?”
She nodded. “He made it sound kind of cool and the whole Indigo Family thing made
me feel better about my synaesthesia. Apparently many of the cult members have some form of it. The mothú is kind of their thing.” Fox listened carefully. Despite his distrust of Delaney’s cult he would have loved to interview its members. They would make a fascinating research group for better understanding synaesthesia in all its various forms. Sorcha paused. “I told him about my death-echo synaesthesia.”
“Really?” At the lake’s edge she sat on a small bench and he sat beside her. “Why?”
“I don’t know really. Something about him, the way he listened, made me want to tell him everything.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me not to be afraid of my gift and that the family would help me appreciate and develop it.” She frowned and gazed out at the still water. “You think I should go back with him?”
“What I think is unimportant. This is about what you want. Anyway, you haven’t got to decide now.”
“I do. He wants to take me back tomorrow.”
Fox felt a sudden stab of panic. “Tomorrow?”
“He says my family’s waiting.” She sighed. “It’s all a bit sudden and I’m not sure I’m ready to go yet. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Can’t you ask your father to wait a few days?”
“I did, but he was pretty adamant. He’s convinced you’ve done all you can for me and sees no reason for me to say here any longer than I have to. Especially now he knows there’s a killer in the city obsessed with me. He thinks I’ll be safer with his people and the sooner I leave Portland the better.”
“So what are you going to do, Jane — I mean, Sorcha?”
“I’m not going to let some sick killer decide for me, that’s for sure. His fixation with me has got nothing to do with how I spend the rest of my life.” She sighed. “It should be simple. I assumed I’d want to go home and find out more about myself — or the person I once was — but suddenly I don’t see it as a return home. Portland seems more like home to me now. I know you better than I know my family, and I trust you.” She turned and looked into his eyes. “What do you think I should do? What do you want me to do, Nathan?”
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