Don't Slay the Dragon (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 1) (20 page)

Chapter
Thirty-Seven

“What in the hell is this Atrus Dracona?”  Dr. Ross met me at the door and demanded before I could even exit the room.  My mind was still processing what I had learned from the visit.  I walked past him without answering and proceeded down the hall towards the “debriefing” room.  Sophie was long gone.  She was probably back in her room by now.  “Will you answer me?” He demanded again.

“I’d rather not have to repeat myself,” I answered calmly as I entered the conference room and took a seat at the long oval table.  The usual faces were there along with a few new ones.  A large video screen took up one wall and I could see that they were already rewinding the footage of me and Lisbeth and our “session”.  She screen was actually split in four with four different angles.  I only just realized that new cameras must have been installed and hidden in the room for them to get this many views of the two of us. 
I tried not to feel violated.

Dr.
Ross seemed to regain control of himself as he came before his staff and took a seat at the head of the table in the chair nearest the screen.  He straightened his black and red striped tie in an effort to calm down.  The rest of the staff, residents and med students I would guess, were itching to start the barrage of questions.  They must have had enough experience with Dr. Ross to know they needed to wait for him to speak first.

“Ms. Stewart,” he addressed me although he didn’t look at me.  He was too busy looking at the laptop in front of him.  “Would you please identify the different personas present during your session today?”

He was going to work his way around to the question he really wanted an answer to.  That was ok.  I was willing to be patient.  I was still thinking through things myself.

“Lisbeth was there first to greet me,” I had been through this before, kind of knew what to expect.  I gave them enough information to appease them and kept to myself anything I didn’t think they needed to know. 
“After that it was Bethany.”

“Yes, Bethany,” Dr.
Ross interrupted. “She’s one of the child personalities. Twelve or so if I remember correctly.”  He liked to show his knowledge to his staff.  It made him sound like an expert. It made him sound like a pompous, arrogant jerk to me.  “She made a reference to another personality during your conversation, didn’t she?”

“She spoke of Slayer,” I answered with a nod, saying no more.

His eyes lit up as he spoke to the other staff members.

“See! 
Proof that the different personalities are aware of each other and may even communicate with each other.  Fascinating!  Make sure you’re including that in your documentation.”  He followed his own advice and began typing notes into his laptop.  “Now, I wanted to focus on a certain area of your discussion with this Bethany.  She was relating a memory I would guess.  Something about a Halloween party.  Please elaborate.”

It wasn’t a request but an order.  He knew very well every word we had discussed.  He just wanted to look superior and to see how much more he could get out of me.  Well, I could be pretty stubborn.

“It was an incident that happened when she was about sixteen.  Elizabeth and her mother, Barbara, went to a Halloween party.  You heard the same things I did.”  I crossed my arms and settled back into the office chair, volunteering no more.

Dr.
Ross gave me a look of frustration. 

“She also mentioned a séance,” he prodded.  I simply nodded in agreement and didn’t say more.  I could almost hear him grinding his teeth further down the table.  “There was a point that she seemed frightened and wouldn’t say anything more about the incident.  I believe Slayer came in at this point.”

I knew where he was heading.  I wasn’t going to help him.  I just nodded again and waited for him to push.  His complexion started to get blotchy and he fought to keep his irritation in check.

“Please explain to us what Atrus Dracona is.” 
Again, not a request but an order.

I took a deep breath, knowing I couldn’t push him much further without a scene.  He’d probably find out eventually anyway.  Especially since Mark Jacobs seemed to have such a big mouth.
It made it a little easier to speak to the room at large instead of him.

“I’ve been doing some research with one of the detectives on the case.”  The different faces around the room looked eager to hear more.  A quick glance at Dr.
Ross showed his face growing redder.  He didn’t like information withheld from him, I knew.  “We’re still piecing things together and it’s still a lot of guess work.  We have a theory that something happened the night of that séance.  There’s a chance, as crazy as it may seem,” I almost wanted to laugh when I said this, considering the company I was in, “that Barbara may have become possessed that night.”

There, I said it, it was out.  I watched the ripple of shock go around the room then the mass confusion of questions and ma
d jotting of notes in notebooks.  Arguments ensued between colleagues.  Possession?  Had they heard me right?  Was possession even real? 

It was a long standing argument in the psychiatric community as to whether possession by a “demon” was real or just another form of what Lisbeth had, dissociative identity disorder.  Psychiatrists didn’t want to believe in devils and demons.  It wasn’t something they could define and control.  It wasn’t something you could medicate someone for.  And most doctors definitely didn’t want to dwell anywhere near the realm of religion.

“Just one moment,” Dr. Ross fought for control of the room.  “Please, everyone, let’s get to the bottom of this.”

He gave his staff a minute to calm down
before he turned his icy stare on me.  He wanted me to feel like a bug under a microscope.  I allowed him to feel a moment of superiority.

“You can’t possibly be trying to tell us that you think Barbara Marshall, the deceased mother of our patient, was possessed? 
By what?  A devil?  A demon?”  His voice was incredulous, condescending.  It was obvious he wanted to make a fool of me.  I took a subtle glance at my watch to note the time then moved forward.

“We’ve discovered a journal Barbara began shortly after this séance.  She describes all the signs of being possessed.”  The whispering began again.  Dr.
Ross held his hand up for silence. 

“And so you think she became possessed because of a séance?  What kind of a demon was it?  Was he some fanged monster with horns, red skin and a tail?”  He was enjoying himself now.

“She.”  I corrected him.

“Excuse me?”  He asked.

“Atrus Dracona seems to be a female.  The name may mean Black Dragon in Latin.  The dragon,” I again spoke to the room at large, “was a favorite of Barbara’s.  She was an artist.  There are several paintings in her home of dragons.  According to her journal, this Atrus Dracona may have influenced some of her artwork.”

“A female demon?”
  Dr. Ross gave a bark of a laugh, already dismissing my theory.  “If anything, Barbara Marshall may have been afflicted with the same mental disorders as her daughter.  There may be a small hereditary factor here.  It bears further observation and examination.  I think it would be more beneficial to concentrate instead on the various personalities present during the session.  Was it Elizabeth, or Lisbeth as you call her, that was present towards the end of your visit?”

No sense in telling him more than he needed to know, I thought to myself.  Sophie was still a puzzle I was trying to solve anyway.

“Yes,” I agreed distractedly just as my cell phone rang.  Right on time.  I looked at the caller ID with an inward smile and fought for a contrite look.  “I’m sorry, this is a very important call and I need to take it.  Dr. Ross, I’ll be sure to let you know when I can come down for my next visit.”

I stood up, pulled my purse strap up on my shoulder, and hurried out the door before he could say another word.  I could hear him huffing and puffing in frustration in the room behind me as walked out into the hallway and headed for the elevator.

“Perfect timing, Logan,” I smiled as I pushed the button for the ground floor and watched the elevator doors shut before me.  “Two more minutes and I would have been ready for a padded room myself.”

His masculine laugh greeted me on the other end of the line.  We had timed it about right.  I knew I’d only be able to stand just so much of an interrogation today.  His call was the perfect excuse to cut things short.

“I wouldn’t want that.  I have more good news for you too.”

“Really?”
  I asked as I left the elevator and headed for the main door.  “Tell me.”

“I just got off the phone with forensics.  They’ve found something underneath the Black Dragon.  I want to go back and get the other two paintings in the trailer, maybe search for more.  Do you want to meet me there
in about an hour?”

“I’ll be there.  I have some things to tell you too.  See you soon.”

Chapter
Thirty-Eight

Despite the recent stress, I could feel my adrenalin pumping as I drove back north.  As I usually did when I left the mental hospital and headed towards home, I processed through my visit with Lisbeth as I drove.

There was
the memory of the Halloween night Dr. Ross chose to dwell on, that was significant, of course.  But I tried to look deeper.  Something else Bethany said struck me.  They had made her the Memory Keeper.  Dr. Ross hadn’t picked up on that yet.  Did that mean she would need to be the one I spoke to whenever I wanted to discuss a memory?  It was an interesting way to do it.  Charge Bethany with keeping the memories then surround her with protectors like Slayer, or maybe even Vesper.  It was something to consider.

Sophie
also said something that nagged at me.  She seemed upset that I had found out as much as I had.  Too much, in her words.  What was she hiding?  What information was I learning from the others that Sophie didn’t want me to know?  Did she not want me to look too closely into Barbara and her past?  What did she know?

Before I knew it I was pulling in front of the single-wide white and si
lver trailer with the turquoise trim.  Logan’s car was already there as well as a black dodge Ram truck.  He met me at the door with the latex gloves and foot covers.  He was wearing jeans, a navy pullover and a comfortable black leather jacket.  I hadn’t seen him for a few days.  I was surprised how much I missed him.

“Hope you don’t mind, I called in some help,” I looked around him to see Detective Hammond in the living room area, moving furniture around.  He gave a bit of an embarrassed
wave, probably expecting to have to eat a little crow to find out there was more to this case than he had first thought.  I decided to go easy on him.

“Thanks for your help, Detective Hammond,” I gave a slight smile and he nodded in acknowledgement.  I turned back to
Logan.  “Show me what you’ve got.”

“Forensics just emailed these to me before I left the office.  I printed them out.  The office printer isn’t the best, but I think you’ll be able to see them clear enough.”

He pulled out a large yellow envelope and slid two pieces of paper from it.  The first print out seemed to be a photograph of the black dragon picture we had discovered when we were here before. It was in black and white which should have lessened the intensity of the picture, but instead it brought out the shapes and definitions in sharper relief.  The dragon was even fiercer than I remembered. It’s sleek ebony wings were folded out as if ready to take flight. Those haunting eyes were vivid with danger.  The front talons were gripping the shale as it rose out of the fiery liquid. I had to pry my eyes away from the picture to see what was on the next paper.

At
first I thought it was just a copy of the first picture. Confused, I was about to ask Logan what the duplicate was for when a subtle difference caught my eye.  Along the bones and veins of the left wing I could make out odd lines. At first they just looked like scratches, but they didn’t quite follow the lines of the wings. Looking closer, it seemed as though the lines were letters. They were grouped together in what might be words.  I looked at Logan in question.

“I have a friend down at county that works in forensics
named Jessica. She took an interest in the dragon. She’s actually a pretty decent artist herself. She was examining the piece when she noticed a slight abnormality in this area.” He pointed to the same place on the wings I had noticed.  “She has this special turpentine mixture she uses that removes paint by small layers.  It looks as though there may be words hidden in the picture.”

Fascinated, I looked closer, trying to see the words.  He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and traced over a few of the lines in the picture. I could make out three
words. Look….under…answers.

“She’s almost certain there’s more.  She just has a big workload right now and hasn’t been able to work on it for long.”
Logan explained.  “She said she’d keep working on it and let me know if she finds anything else out.”

Interesting.
What did it mean? Look under what?  What answers? I could spend the next few years looking under everything in this small cluttered trailer. Where to begin?

“We already have the other two canvasses secure,” he pointed at the two canvasses on the floor next to the door, rolled into tubes and wrapped in plastic.  I guessed it was the paintings of the red and green dragons.  There was no telling what could be beneath the paint on those canvasses.

“What else are we looking for tonight?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Logan wasn’t usually this vague. “Call it a hunch. After all the things we found on the computer, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get a better look around here, see if there is anything we missed the first time.”

Detective Hammond didn’t seem to like the idea that they had been less than thorough during the initial investigation.
He gave an unhappy huff then moved past the area Barbara had died and headed towards the back of the trailer. His big, solid steps causing the old trailer to creak as he walked down the hall.

Logan was looking in the small kitchen area, carefully moving around the blood splatter area, checking cabinets and walls. I realized he was going out on a limb for me here. Most law enforcement officers dealt with facts and evidence. I doubted he would be here with me tonight, going over the trailer again, if he hadn’t listened to my concerns and acted on instinct.

I put the photos that were still in my hands back into the envelope, placed it on the metal kitchen table and looked around. 

I stood in the cluttered front room, trying to compare what it had looked like in my memories to what it looked like now. I wanted to see if there were any noticeable differences.

Much of it seemed frozen in time. Only a few small things had changed, a new pillow, a bit more updated TV. There was a newer coverlet draped across the tattered couch. I swept it aside to look beneath it. Nothing. Much of this room was the same as I remembered it as a girl.

It was starting to get darker, the days were getting shorter. I reached over to turn on the light in the front room but nothing happened.

Logan saw what I did and tried the kitchen light. Still nothing.

“I guess the landlord quit paying he electricity bill,” Logan guessed.

“That’s what it looks like,” I agreed. “At least we still have some daylight left.”

I continued looking around. The setting sun through the open door and cracks in the boarded windows gave the room an eerily orange-reddish glow.  Dust motes that we stirred up during our search floated around the musty evening air.

“I think there’s something back here,” Hammond called from down the hallway towards the bathroom and Barbara’s bedroom.  I shot Logan a look then followed him down the tight hall, towards Hammond’s voice. He was in the tiny, cramped bathroom.

Hammond was a big man anyway,
so in the claustrophobic space it was hard to see around him. He was pointing to the small, homemade bookshelf with a few science-fiction paperbacks on the shelf. He was removing the books from shelf then removing the shelf itself, placing it in a narrow space on the floor beside the toilet.

“
I noticed the wood paneling didn’t really match up right here,” he pointed to wall behind the bookshelf. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Gerber knife. He carefully slid the blade along the edge on the paneling and we all jumped when it popped off and fell onto the floor, revealing a hidden niche. 

I
t wasn’t very big, maybe only a foot wide, five inches high and a foot deep.  There was a small plastic container inside with a lid sealed in place, the kind of compact storage container you might find in any medicine cabinet.

Who knew if this was anything significant or not? 
Hammond’s big, latex-covered hands carefully lifted it down to sit it on the narrow countertop surrounding the sink.  We all crouched down for a closer look. The plastic lid cracked slightly as he opened the container. Inside the container were five syringes, two looked used and the other three were still in their plastic packaging. There were three small vials, two of which still seemed to have a small about of clear liquid in them. The labeling on the vials had been removed so there was no way of telling immediately what they contained.

             
There were also several prescription bottles in the container. Each one had Barbara’s name on them and they were each for different prescriptions. Loratab, Percodan, Oxycontin, Dilaudid, Duloxetine, Pregabalin and Milnacipran. I recognized some as strong painkillers, the others were new to me.

             
What had Barbara been hiding?