Текст книги "Where All the Dead Lie"

Автор книги: J. T. Ellison

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sam washed the blood off her knives and disinfected them, saw that the autopsy suite had been cleaned to her satisfaction, everything gleaming and sparkling, then headed to her office to do some paperwork.

She woke her computer and checked her email, was happy to see a note from Taylor. That girl. Foolhardy and headstrong, running off to Scotland without a thought to Memphis Highsmythe’s “estate.” Sam knew it was more than that; she’d Googled the man months ago, when he popped onto the scene and made a play for Taylor’s affections. There was tons of information about Memphis online. About his family, and his wife’s sad death. The castle itself had its own web page.

She knew Taylor would have never bothered to look that deeply into Memphis. It would have felt like a betrayal to her. She was committed to Baldwin, wouldn’t waste time wondering what might have been with another man. Like looking up an old boyfriend on Facebook, just to see what he was up to. That wasn’t the kind of thing Taylor did. She lived in the now, not in the past.

Sam knew her girl might walk a thin line with Memphis, but she’d never cross over. Whether Memphis could be trusted not to try and force her into it was another matter.

She clicked the email open.

Dear Sam,

I’ve landed safely. Memphis met me at the airport and spirited me away early, so I’m writing you from Dulsie Castle. I guess I never really thought about what Memphis’s life might be like over here, but trust me, this place is unbelievable. It’s huge. All stone and fireplaces and gorgeous furniture. And the food, Lord, the food. Cook did a seven-course meal for us tonight, with ridiculously expensive wine. I know, I know, I’m not supposed to be drinking, but a little bit of wine won’t hurt.

Memphis has been very kind, and very good. No hanky-panky. Which is nice. I was a little worried he’d be pushy, and he’s not. We talked after dinner, and he told me some of the castle’s history, including this gruesome ghost story about the Lady in Red. I promptly fell asleep and had a terrible nightmare. Which is why I’m awake and writing you.

I still can’t speak more than a couple of words at a time, but I’m meeting with Memphis’s therapist friend in the morning. We’ll see how that goes.

Any word on our hit-and-run?

Love you, so much.

Taylor

Sam shook her head. Taylor was a bright woman, but sometimes she could be so hopelessly obtuse. Of course Memphis was behaving himself. Like the spider to the fly. Make the web look safe, attack when weakness appears.

She didn’t know why she disliked him so much. Outside of the fact that Taylor was finally, after all these years, settled and happy, and the first thing that happened was this interloper.

Oh, well. Taylor was a big girl. She’d have to make her own mistakes.

Sam typed quickly. She wanted to go home, see the twins. See Simon. She’d make a nice dinner, open a bottle of wine. She’d been married long enough to recognize that she was being too concerned with Taylor’s relationship, and not enough with her own.

Hi, Taylor,

Glad to hear that you’re in safe. Everything is fine here. We’re getting more snow tonight—can you imagine? So much for global warming.

Remember when we were girls, and it used to snow all winter long? We’d go sledding on the big hill in Percy Warner Park, or ice-skate on the pond behind my folks’ place. We’d come in frozen to the bone, our hands so cold we could barely move our fingers, and your mom used to have Mrs. Mize make us hot chocolate. She’d pretend not to listen to us giggle. I don’t know if you ever noticed her, standing at the edge of the kitchen, watching us have fun. Kitty always seemed so sad, even back then. Before she grew bitter.

Wow, that was a step into the way-back machine.

I’m hoping to have some time to take the twins sledding tomorrow.

Our hit-and-run got more interesting today. Her name is Marias González. She had a marked bill in her pocket. Blue dye. Your brilliant young detective Marcus thinks she’s involved in the Regretful Robber case somehow. It’s a good thought. He’s really coming along.

I’ll let you know more when I find it out.

In the meantime, young lady, you continue to behave yourself. Beware of Viscounts bearing gifts, and all that. Or is that Greeks?

Love you too,

Sam

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

When Taylor woke, the sun was already high. She glanced at the clock. Almost eight. There was no Memphis, nothing to show that he’d even been there the night before.

She was surprised by her disappointment.

But she didn’t have time for thinking, not now, at least. She needed to get moving. She was supposed to meet Dr. James at nine.

She showered and dressed, was brushing out her wet hair when she heard knocking on her chamber door. That would be breakfast. Memphis had mentioned they’d bring it to her room.

She went to the door and opened it. A small maid who couldn’t be more than fourteen bustled in with a tray. Tea and toast, rashers of bacon and sausage, softly scrambled eggs, a bottle of water—“for yer hydration, lady”—a carafe of apple juice and a matching one with cranberry. The girl bobbed and disappeared as quickly as she’d come, leaving Taylor with the huge tray of food—more than enough for two.

Before the door was completely closed, she heard whistling. She stuck her head in the hall and saw Memphis coming her way. He looked rested and happy, all the haunting sadness of the night before gone.

“Morning. Sleep well?” he asked.

He knew exactly how she slept, but she saw the maid lingering at the end of the hall, realized he needed to put on a show for his people as well. As modern as the castle was, spending the night in his unmarried lady friend’s chambers was apparently frowned upon, or, more likely, fodder for gossip among the Highland staff.

She made a show of writing in her notebook. Felt strangely defensive, whether toward Memphis or his servants, she didn’t know.

Mostly. Bad dreams.

“Oh, no. Well, let’s feed you up and see you off to the doctor then.”

Join me?

Memphis nodded in agreement, and she let the door close behind him.

The tray had been deceptive. There were two of everything, plates, cups, glasses, cutlery. Taylor realized Memphis hadn’t just happened by, this was all planned. But she was too hungry to worry about it. Never one to pass up a meal, she sat at the little table and tucked in.

Memphis wandered around the suite with a glass of apple juice in one hand and a piece of toast in the other, distracted.

You’re dropping crumbs on the floor.

Taylor pointed to the small piles of toast that trailed in Memphis’s circumnavigated wake.

“The mice need to eat, too, you know. This saves them from having to leave this floor to tend to their meals.” He dropped a bit of toast on the floor then, purposefully.

This place is too clean for mice.

“Oh, ho, not at all. The castle cats are fat with their plunder. There’s enough to keep the circle of life in play. I made a pet of one of the mice when I was a boy. Named him Bilbo. I was besotted with Tolkien in those days. I fed Bilbo from my breakfast every morning. My mother caught me at it once. She didn’t say a word, sent me on my way. I had to go hunting that day, I was nervous anyway. When I came back that evening, freshly blooded, flush with success—I’d bagged my first fox and my father had allowed me to ride home with the Master of Hounds—a gray tabby was curled up asleep on the bed. I never saw Bilbo again.”

Poor mouse. Poor fox, too.

His eyes flashed in amusement. “Poor fox? Poor mouse? Poor me. I’d lost my boon companion. We had adventures, Bilbo and I. We sailed the high seas. He made an excellent first mate.”

He must have been a lonely boy, to live in such a make-believe world.

“I know what you’re thinking. God, you have a glass face. I was a bit lonely. I was older than my brothers, and my sister hadn’t come along yet. There were few boys my age around the estate that summer, but it all changed in the autumn. I was sent off to school, and I’ve not been lonely since. Now, are you almost finished? Maddee will wonder what’s become of us.”

Taylor finished the last of her tea and stood up.

Ready. Just let me grab my sweater. What’s freshly blooded mean?

Memphis escorted Taylor down to the first floor through a separate stairwell, explaining the intricate etiquette of a first kill. When he got to the part about having a bit of the fox’s blood smeared on his face, she held up a hand and stopped him. She didn’t need to know any more.

They ended up in the southernmost part of the castle, close to the public banquet hall, before trailing back around to a room done up in burgundy and cream. Taylor would never find her way back alone.

A woman sat in front of the fire, staring into its depths. When she heard them arrive, she stood and came to Taylor, hand outstretched. Her hair was dark and long, straight as an arrow, her smile friendly, her eyes brown and warm. She was Taylor’s age, no more than thirty-five or so.

“You must be Taylor. I’m Dr. Madeira James, à votre service. But please, call me Maddee.” Her accent was a shock, much more New York than Scotland. Taylor’s face must have showed her surprise, because Maddee said, “Long Island, born and bred. I fit in so nicely amongst the locals.”

Taylor laughed. She felt a bit like that herself.

Good to meet you.

“And you. Memphis has told me so much about you. Though he didn’t do you justice. You’re right, Memphis, she’s stunning.”

Taylor squirmed. She hated those kinds of accolades. She was much more than the sum of her exterior parts.

“And humble as pie, Maddee. Look at her blush.” He was grinning, loving her annoyance.

“Stop teasing her, Memphis. It’s not nice. You run along and we’ll see you in an hour.”

“As you wish, Dr. James.” Memphis bowed and with a smile at Taylor, turned tail and left the room, leaving the two women alone.

Maddee took Taylor’s arm and linked hers through it. She smelled good, like the fire, and vanilla, and an earthier, underlying scent, like she’d gotten some outdoor exercise this morning, the wind in her hair leaving the scent of the Highlands behind.

“We’re going to get along just fine. Ignore him, he loves to poke.”

No kidding, Taylor thought.

“Come, sit down. I’ve got tea for us already, unless you’d like something else?”

Tea is fine. Thank you.

They took their places, Taylor on the leather sofa, Maddee on an upright Victorian chair that looked to be an original, reupholstered in Brunschwig & Fils gray silk brocade. Probably worth a fortune.

When she saw Taylor was settled, she dove right in.

“So. I’m sorry for teasing you earlier. Memphis fancies you, and I’m wildly jealous. He’s the most eligible bachelor in five counties.”

Taylor wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Well, you’re welcome to him. I’m engaged.

“And I’m married.” Maddee burst out laughing, a genuine and infectious sound. “I adore him though. Evan’s death has changed him. He used to be completely carefree, wicked good at his job, on top of the world. Sorrow isn’t an emotion he wears well, I’m afraid. He’s the kind of man who should have a woman.”

She drifted off for a moment, then smiled brightly again. “Enough of that for now. So your voice hasn’t made a full comeback yet. I spoke to Dr. Willig at length yesterday. Lovely woman. She said you saw some progress after EMDR. Would you like to continue that therapy?”

Yes. I need to get rid of these memories.

“Are they memories? Or are you having flashbacks?”

Taylor didn’t respond.

“You know that EMDR won’t banish the past. It’s just going to make the memories less painful to deal with, and help you manage your emotions during the flashbacks. Besides, you don’t really want to forget, not entirely. It keeps you sharp, remembering the bad stuff. You really should be journaling. Writing down all your thoughts, emotions. It’s truly the best therapy you can engage in. By revisiting the memories, putting them down on paper, you’re desensitizing yourself to them. I’ve been journaling since I was a teenager. Daily. Religiously. Thank goodness for computers, my stack of notebooks was threatening to topple me.” She laughed, and Taylor smiled.

I’ve never had that kind of discipline, to be honest. And if I’m being frank, I’d like to exorcise it all.

“Would it be easier for you to type? I have a laptop here you can use.”

Taylor nodded.

Maddee got out her laptop, a sleek eleven-inch MacBook Air, booted it up and opened it to a blank page for Taylor. They settled into their seats.

“Let’s talk about what you find most objectionable to remember. Then we’ll do some EMDR.” She waved her hand, and Taylor saw the familiar implements on the table next to her.

My friend, Sam, was hurt very badly. I need to get the look of pain and anger on Sam’s face out of my head. I don’t want to live with that as a part of me. I failed her, and she let down her guard and allowed me to know it. It’s haunting me.

“Sam was your friend who was kidnapped, right? I’ve read the notes from Dr. Willig. It seems she covered many of those issues at your first visit, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Well then. Let’s get started. I do things a little different.

I want to lead you through a series of exercises that will help you relax before we get the EMDR underway.”

I am relaxed.

Maddee smiled gently at her. “I beg to differ, my dear.

You’re obviously under a great deal of stress. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes. You didn’t sleep. Your neck hurts too, doesn’t it? You’re holding it funny.”

Her neck was sore, and her shoulders needed a good massage, but she wasn’t going to admit that.

Strange pillows.

“Mmm-hmm. Right. Do you get any sort of regular sleep? I see here that you have a long history of insomnia. Why don’t they give you something for that?”

We tried, once. Ambien. I had a terrible reaction to it. I’d rather not sleep than take medication for it.

“There are other really excellent drugs we could try. Sleep is vital for your recovery. It helps your brain to reset. When we’re working on the neural pathways, it’s essential that we get you at least six hours a night.”

Taylor shook her head in protest, but Maddee held up a hand to stop her.

“Just hold on a second. There are all kinds of pharmaceuticals out there for sleep, but I prefer to go all-natural. Melatonin. Helps regulate your system, and you will find it helps with the jet lag as well. I want you to start taking it tonight.” She handed Taylor an amber bottle.

I hate to take more pills. It’s like admitting defeat.

“But you’re willingly taking the Fioricet and the Ativan. And don’t you have a prescription for Percocet, too? Your pupils are pinpoint, I assume you’ve been availing yourself of that one at least. So this isn’t really different. Trust me, Taylor. This will help you. And that’s all I want to do here, is help.”

Busted.

All right. I’ll try it.

“Thank you. Let’s do a little relaxation exercise, too, just to humor me.”

Taylor settled into the sofa, her hands folded loosely in her lap. Maddee’s voice was low and soft, caressing.

“Good. Just listen to my voice. Think about your toes.

They are all stretched and comfortable, like they’re sitting in a pool of sunlight. Let them relax in the pool. It’s so warm, so soft. It’s a perfect complement to your feet. Can you feel the warmth?” Taylor nodded.

“Good. Now think about your calves. That pool of light is moving up your legs, bringing with it the most delicious warmth and relaxation. You feel relaxed. You feel light as air. All your worries, all your problems, are being lifted from your body. Feel it get light.”

Maddee worked her way up Taylor’s body with her voice until she was at the top of her head, the pool of light shining all over her, keeping her warm and supple. She did feel more relaxed. That was an amazing exercise. She started to open her eyes, but Maddee told her not to.

“In your mind’s eye, I want you to look at your wrist. There’s a string attached to it. The string goes high up in the sky. Do you see it rising?”

Taylor nodded.

“There’s a blue balloon tied to the top of that string. See it floating in the air?”

Taylor nodded again.

“Good. Now let that balloon move toward the sky, and take your arm with it. You arm is feeling lighter and lighter.”

Her arm did feel light. It raised of its own accord, up into the sky.

“You’re a pro at this, Taylor. You can let your arm drop slowly back to your side now. Good. I want you to think back to your fear. Think about Sam. About the look on her face. What emotions are you feeling right now? Tell me aloud, don’t just think them.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t talk. Maddee knew that.

“Come on, Taylor. Just give it a try. You can speak. There’s nothing holding you back now. You’re safe with me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Sadness. Horror. Fury. Embarrassment.”

Had she said that aloud?

“Look at the blue balloon, Taylor. Your arm is so light. Good girl. Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because I’ve come to kill. Sam knows that, and she’s disappointed in me. I can’t disappoint her. She counts on me too much.”

It was so easy to talk to Maddee. Taylor didn’t feel bad about telling the truth. Not now, not when she was so comfortable and warm, sunlight splashing down on her.

“You came to kill? You were planning to kill Ewan Copeland before you came into the room?”

“Yes. He deserved it. He hurt too many people. He hurt Fitz, and Sam.”

“He didn’t hurt you directly though, did he? You weren’t in any physical danger from him until the very end, correct?”

“That didn’t matter. I had to put him down.”

“Tell me, Taylor. Tell me what you did.”

“The birds were singing. They were calling me to him. And then they quit….”

Taylor remembered now. Sheer, unadulterated rage filled her. The Pretender was torturing her friends, and she had to end his reign of terror. She’d designed her own personal plan of revenge, one designed to take out the chess piece that had disrupted her life so completely for the previous year. She wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d set out to kill the Pretender. And she’d failed, anyway, in the end. Sam was still hurt. She’d never heal properly.

She’d always blame Taylor for the loss of the baby.

Taylor was crying. She felt the tears on her face.

She hadn’t told anyone what she was really doing at the house, Baldwin included. Though she was pretty sure he knew what she’d been up to. But there were plenty of other moments leading up to the shooting that she’d like to forget as well.

Oh, God. Had she just shared all that with Maddee James?

Her heartbeat began to race. She wanted to wipe her face, but her arm was still tied to that fucking blue balloon.

“Help,” she said.

“Okay, Taylor. Hold it together now. I want you to let the pool of sun go away. When we’re together, anytime you get frightened or upset, all you need to do is think about that pool of sunlight, and you’ll feel better immediately. It gives you control over your emotions. I’m going to count backward from three. When I get to one, you will open your eyes. Three. Two. One.”

Taylor opened her eyes. Maddee was looking at her with an unfathomable expression on her face, somewhere between contemplation and…was that happiness? It was fleeting; Maddee’s face closed and became cool and professional again.

Taylor sat up. She had been crying. Maddee silently handed her a tissue. Taylor swiped it under her eyes and grabbed the laptop.

What just happened?

“Try speaking aloud.”

“What…” Oh God, it was like swallowing razor blades. She shook her head.

Maddee reached across and took Taylor’s hand. She smiled widely.

“There’s nothing wrong with your voice. You spoke just fine for the past fifteen minutes.”

“I… No.”

“Yes.” Maddee nodded, still grinning.

Oh, my God. She had said those things.

What did you do to me?

“Hypnotherapy. It worked, too. You were an excellent candidate. As you can see, you could speak just fine when you were under.”

You hypnotized me?

“Yes. I’m surprised Dr. Willig didn’t try that before EMDR. Sometimes you’ll come out of it speaking just fine. Or, you’ll be stubborn and still insist that you can’t. But at least we know you’re not damaged.”

Hypnosis. Shit. She didn’t know whether to be happy that Maddee had proved she could speak normally, or furious that Maddee had tricked her. Never mind that, she couldn’t believe she’d been so open, either. She’d admitted the one thing she needed to keep from everyone. Not that it mattered; Maddee was bound by doctor-patient privilege. And Taylor hadn’t killed Copeland. Baldwin had taken care of that for her. But still, admitting her intention was exactly the opposite of what she’d intended. She could get herself in more than moral trouble if she weren’t careful.

She chalked the mental lapse up to jet lag, and terrible dreams. And she couldn’t help herself—Maddee seemed like she could be a friend.

She smiled wanly.

So, that was fun.

“But you’re feeling more relaxed, right? What we just did, it’s just your basic biofeedback. A really great technique. You look like you’re familiar with yoga. Are you?”

A bit. I’m not very good at the poses, but I rock the breathing.

Maddee laughed. “Good. It’s the same thing when you’re doing therapy. You set an intention, and allow your breath to regulate your thoughts. You did great. You were much more relaxed than most first timers. I’m going to make you a tape. I want you to listen to it before you go to bed every night. It’s the same kind of exercise we’ve just done, and it will help your mind let go. The more you relax, the easier it will be to talk. And I’ll put in some suggestions to allow you to sleep. Insomnia is treatable, and I’ve had great success with this method.”

All right. So now what?

“If you’re up to doing some more, we can try some EMDR. See if we can help your feelings about Sam. A friend’s disappointment is a huge burden to carry. Let’s fix it.”

They worked for another half an hour before Maddee turned the EMDR unit off and poured on a smile.

“How do you feel now?” she asked.

Taylor had to admit, she was exhausted. But she felt freer, lighter than when they started. Between thoughts of her happy place at the camp, and the warm pool of sunlight she’d immersed herself in twice now when things got too tough, they’d taken the worst of the memories down a notch.

Taylor was starting to understand why people went into therapy. It was incredibly liberating to get all the worry and fear off your chest, to give it to someone else to hold.

“Don’t forget to take your melatonin tonight—probably around seven or so to give it time to get into your system. If you get a headache, take your pills and try to relax. Do the sunlight trick, thinking about the pain and watching it dissipate. The headache should leave. Then listen to the tape. I’ll make sure it’s waiting on you tonight. You should sleep like a baby.”

You’re wonderful, Maddee. Thank you so much.

The woman smiled. “Of course. I’m glad that you’re so responsive, we should have you back to normal very soon.” She patted her on the hand. “Now go enjoy this beautiful country. Memphis told me he’s taking you out for a drive. You’ll have fun—he knows all the great vistas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Taylor watched Maddee gather her things and leave the room. She was pleased. Maddee certainly seemed to know what she was doing.

She felt unencumbered and happy, realized that for the first time since the shooting, she didn’t have that sense of doom hanging over her head. Well, that was worth the trip overseas in and of itself.

Baldwin would be worrying about her. She sent him a quick text. She decided not to go into detail, said things were fine, sent him love. No sense telling him Memphis had sung her to sleep, or that she’d just opened her heart to a stranger. That wouldn’t be productive.

She poured a fresh cup of tea and waited. Sure enough, within five minutes, Memphis came to get her, smiling widely.

“Head properly shrunk?” he asked.

She missed the ease of the laptop. Her notebook communication seemed so much slower.

You put it so nicely. Yes, we had a good session. You’re right, Maddee’s very good.

“Told you. Now, grab your coat and your boots. I’m taking you on a little excursion. You got to show me your Nashville, now it’s high time I give you a taste of my roots in return.”