“Then it’s a good thing you’re her doctor.”
“That statement is more accurate than you know, Rowan. If the latent details she was giving me were accurate, what I listened to would easily qualify as a confession to several premeditated murders. It is a very good thing she did not do this while in police custody.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, thinking exactly the same thing. “Okay, so then what? If she’s resting now then Miranda must be gone.”
“Yes, she is. She simply stopped speaking mid-sentence and a moment later Felicity was in her place. As soon as she realized what had happened, she began to cry hysterically and beg for you. I was left with no choice but to sedate her.”
“But, she’s okay?”
“Physically, she is fine. Emotionally, however, any progress we have made in the past few days is a complete wash.”
I remained quiet, considering what she had just said.
Before I could form any sort of comment, she suddenly offered up a new subject. “I have not spoken to Benjamin lately. Do you know if they have had any luck locating the half-sister?”
I shook my head. “Not yet. Last I heard they were still sifting through the paperwork Maggie handed over, looking for leads.”
“Well, they need to find her very soon. The last two episodes have taken a severe toll on Felicity. She is very strong willed, but she is beginning to break down.”
“I agree that they need to find her, Helen,” I replied. “But my worry is that even if they do, this isn’t going to stop. The Lwa has obviously formed a bond with Felicity as well as Miranda, or whatever her name really is.”
“How do you propose to address that?”
“Figure out who the Lwa is, and go at it from an ethereal angle.”
“How will you find her?”
“I’ve been working on it with an expert on Voodoo. She’s a college professor out of Baton Rouge who’s written some fairly definitive books on the subject. She has some ideas.”
“Anything promising?”
“Some, but nothing solid just yet. She’s been running down some leads for me. In fact, I’m expecting a call from her today. The big problem is we’re chasing after someone who’s already dead. Sounds like it shouldn’t be a big deal, but when you don’t know who the dead person is, or even when they died, it gets a little tricky.”
Helen lit her third fresh cigarette and again offered me another. This time I took it. Once she had taken a long drag and slowly exhaled the smoke, she turned her face to me. Her expression was hard and serious, which made the next words to come from her mouth even more of a contrast against her normally proper exterior.
“I would suggest that you chase faster, Rowan. This Miranda is a sick fucking bitch, and I do not like her.”
CHAPTER 33:
“Hey there,” I said, my voice soft.
The hard sound of a deadbolt snapping shut followed my words as the door behind me was locked. I had been warned that it would happen, as it was standard procedure for this section of the hospital. That didn’t make the sound any less jarring. Of course, the entire feel of this floor was oppressive to begin with, so my nerves were feeling more than just a bit raw and exposed. Not to mention that since I wasn’t hospital staff, I was violating policy by being in the room, but Helen had given the okay. Still, it all added up, and the sharp finality of the noise actually made me flinch.
Across the room, Felicity was sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed, her back to me. She was still clad in one of the pairs of flannel pajamas I’d packed for her days before.
She didn’t reply.
My wife’s original accommodations had seemed more like a small hotel room than something you would find at a hospital-sparse, but comfortable, furnished with a bed, dresser, some chairs and a small table. The bathroom was utilitarian but fairly spacious. She’d even had a television and large windows looking out onto a garden courtyard.
This room, however, made that look like a plush suite. Her furnishings consisted of little more than the hospital bed upon which she was now perched and a basic, straight-backed chair in the far corner. Gone was everything else, with the exception of the view. Of course, we were several stories up, and the thick windows were sandwiching heavy-duty safety wire, ostensibly to prevent suicide attempts. At least the walls were a calming, pale blue instead of the stark white so often depicted in movies. Still, that was of little comfort.
I stepped a little farther into the room and spoke a bit louder, “Knock knock.”
“So, what do you think of the new place?” she asked. “I just moved in, so I haven’t had time to do much with it.”
Her voice was flat, emotionless, with more than just her usual Celtic lilt accenting the words, probably because she was tired-a lingering effect of the sedative. Her attempt at humor was even cliche, which was just more evidence of that fact.
I could easily detect a note of hoarseness that was most likely the result of her crying fit combined with the dozen or so hysterical screams I’d been told she’d treated them all to.
After another long pause, she replied, “It happened again, Row. She came back.”
“Yeah, I heard,” I replied, stepping in just a little further.
“See? I told you it would be safer this way.”
“Yes, you did, but I’m still not necessarily convinced.”
“Well, you aren’t acting much like it then,” she remarked.
“How so?”
“You can come closer. She’s not here now, and I won’t be biting you.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
“And, so you’re standing all the way over there for what reason?”
“I didn’t want to startle you.”
“Aye, are you certain it’s not because you’re afraid of me?”
I shifted my focus and realized she had been watching my reflection in the windowpane all along. I couldn’t help but crack a thin smile. That was just like my wife, always aware of her surroundings even if she didn’t appear to be.
“No,” I said, shaking my head as I moved forward, skirting around the end of the bed and drawing closer to her. “Just giving you a little space is all.”
After a thick pause, she looked up at me, her eyes tired and bloodshot. “I’ve had enough space for one day,” she said, her voice low. “I’d much prefer it if you would just hold me for a while.”
She slowly unfolded her legs and scooted toward the edge of the bed. In a single fluid motion she slipped her arms around my waist as I wrapped my own about her shoulders and pulled her close, stroking her hair. She didn’t begin to cry, but then, I suppose she might not have had any tears left.
We stood there for what seemed like several minutes, simply gripping one another tightly. No words came from either of us, as everything we had to say at that moment in time was communicated by the embrace.
Finally, Felicity spoke. “Rowan, am I insane?”
“No, honey,” I soothed. “You aren’t insane.”
“You aren’t just saying that, are you?”
“No, sweetheart, I’m not just saying that.”
“Because you would. I know you.”
“Yes, you’re right, I would. But, I’m not now.”
“Make her stop.”
“I’m trying.”
Her grip on me finally loosened, and I guided her gently back onto the bed before retrieving the chair from the corner and pulling it up in front of her.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
She shook her head. “There’s really nothing to talk about. I don’t remember anything.”
Before I could reply, the warbling tone of my cell began ramping upward. I ignored it.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Whoever it is can leave a message.”
“What if it’s something important?”
“You’re what’s important right now.”