Dreamscape (20 page)

“You’re butting your head against a brick wall, girl. Don’t think it matters if you’re right or not.” Hazel shrugged. “Join me for lunch. Take a little time away from the place. I don’t know what to tell you. Ever since you went against Peggy’s assessment of the Raymond incident, you’ve been marked. Hasn’t helped being in the paper either.”

“They were trying to fire him without cause,” Ramona stated. Frustration ate at her. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet their efforts tried to make her look incompetent.

“Does it matter? You can’t save the world, Ramona,” Hazel said.

They entered the elevator and exited on the first floor, heading for the café. Ramona’s mood didn’t lift. She needed her job. But with everything she had within her, she couldn’t ignore patient care or the employees underneath her.

“Either you’re going to have to learn to go with the flow or you’re not going to make it,” Hazel said.

Ramona nodded and walked in silence into the crowded cafeteria. Caught up with her thoughts, she jumped when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Sorry, Ramona,” Madeleine, a lab control assistant, uttered out of breath. “I ran over. There’s a guy who’s looking for you. He’s says he’s a doctor or something. Didn’t want Peggy seeing him and all. I know—” Madeleine stopped.

She eased down to the lobby searching for a man of Madeleine’s description. She prayed it wasn’t another reporter. They’d been banned from the hospital because of the press she’d received. She didn’t have to look for long. A short, elderly man stepped up to meet her.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Damsun. I recognize you from your picture in the paper.”

She winced at the mention.

“Not good,” the man said. “I understand. I do. Let me introduce myself. I’m Dr. Nicholas Lewis. I’m sorry to bother you at work but I didn’t know if you could help me. Chief Thorpe thought you might. I just need a moment.”

“Chief Thorpe, you said?” Ramona asked. She didn’t have time to deal with this today at work, but she saw the look in his eyes—desperation. She lost her appetite and heaved behind her palm. “Okay. Need to find a place to talk.”

Ramona found a quiet spot in the corner by the gift shop. South Weymouth Hospital had become the largest hospital this side of Boston, and the lobby seemed to be one big revolving door. Dr. Lewis took his seat. A nervous twitch flickered below his right eye, and he appeared tentative, unsure if he wanted to go on. He twirled the hair on the back of his neck. He paused to take a breath.

“Ms. Damsun. Again, I have to apologize.”

She sat next to him. “Dr. Lewis, I recognize your name also. It’s not an issue. You’re the one that gave them the name of the killer. I’m just not sure what I can do for you.”

Dr. Lewis nodded. He collected himself, pulled himself straight. “Of course, of course. I feel a tad silly sitting here in the middle of your work discussing my concerns, Ms. Damsun. But honestly, Ms. Damsun, I’m afraid. Years ago I ran because I was afraid. I can’t run now.”

His eyes glanced over at Ramona, trying to make contact. She understood what he wanted. She turned her head away; her fears nagged at her. She was afraid herself, afraid of what he had to say, afraid of what he might discover.

“It’s been over exaggerated, Doctor,” she assured him. “Between you and me, I would never publicly admit to any visions. If Chief Thorpe sent you, I’m willingly to listen. I just don’t know if I can be of any help.”

His manner eased. “I don’t know about that, Ms. Damsun. Honestly, my only worry is my former patient and what he’s capable of. My main concern lies in stopping him. I fear that he can’t be stopped and for some reason I believe in some fashion that you have some sort of connection.”

He pulled his sweater up over his elbow. There was a scar, an emblem of sorts, the marking leaving the impression of flames on his forearm.

“Feel it.”

Ramona hesitantly placed her hand over the scar. She jerked back as warmth exuded from it.

“It was given to me years ago as a warning,” Dr. Lewis said simply. “Last night it came back. He warned me, he said. He said he would be back if I didn’t remain silent. I don’t know what else to do.”

“At first, Henry DeNair appeared to fit the profile of many a nonfunctional child. Unfortunately, most like Henry are incurable. With my practice I’ve had to deal with a few cases such as Henry’s, or so I thought. He began to escalate.”

She listened, intent, so far unaffected by the story of DeNair’s dismal childhood, the actions that began the path of a psychotic serial killer, his fantasies about killing his aunt, mother, cousins, which he suspected was reality.

She broke in. “The dreams, Dr. Lewis, when did they start?”

His hands trembled. “After I recommended that Henry be institutionalized. At first, I wrote it off to nightmares, but I’d find myself out of bed on the floor. After the last dream, I woke outside my house, locked out.” He choked back before talking again. “Visions of my family burning over coals. My daughter…I can’t—”

Ramona pressed him. “Don’t stop. Was DeNair in the dream?”

“Only watching. He seemed to be following orders. I remember him calling Surmoas.” His eyes rolled back, and his face drained of color.

“Doctor, it has to be something DeNair said to you.”

Dr. Lewis’s expression drooped, and his worries resurfaced. “I ran from this years ago because I didn’t know what else to do. What do you think? What do I do?”

“I didn’t say that. For right now you could obtain a dream catcher. There’s a purpose behind them. It could help. Nothing fancy. Do you know what they are?”

“I’ve heard of them.”

“But Doctor, the only thing…if you run from him, eventually he’ll catch up to you. Eventually, as with everything, you’ll have to face the demon.” She paused. “Doctor, sometimes facing your fear will in itself help or will send for the help you’re looking for.”

* * * *

Basketball. In the evening light of the winter evening, Thorpe had found time to enjoy one of Liam’s games. Lately, watching them had been occurrences few and far between. As Thorpe entered, Liam glanced in the stands while the team took to the court. He caught sight of his father, and a knowing grin spread on his face.

Thorpe stood against the wall as the game progressed. Randy Fanon’s father chose to do the same and shared strategy about the finer points of their young men’s game. Liam accepted a pass, whirled, and shot in a single motion for a three-pointer. The ball traveled in an upward arc finding the basket with a swish. Liam quickly met his father’s gaze to receive his reaction. He returned his son’s look with a wink of approval, not theatrical, but nonchalant.

Thorpe watched his son with pride for the rest of the game. The score today didn’t matter. He wondered what the next twenty years held for his boy. Would he face life with the same passion he did this day with his game? Would he follow his dream? He’s a good boy. He’ll find his way better than his old man.

Thorpe glanced across the court to his wife. The game had become secondary to the social event it provided for Cindy. Even in the middle of a gymnasium she stood out. She looked beautiful with her soft features and sandy blonde hair that brought out the color of her eyes. She’d blossomed since their separation. The last few weeks hadn’t worn adversely on her.

He turned his attention back to the game. At work, it seemed much easier to ignore his private life. Being engrossed in the case left him little time to deal with these issues. He hadn’t even picked up Cindy’s calls the last couple of days. Shock of her betrayal had worn off, and anger had sunk in.

The end of the game brought satisfaction, although anti-climactic with his son’s team pulling away handily. Good. Liam will be in the mood to go out for pizza. The crowd dispersed out on the court. Thorpe walked over to his boy.

Cindy waited by herself to the side, no doubt for him. She gazed at him with cold reproof. He patted his son’s back. “Go tell Pete and Alex we’re leaving, Liam. I’m going to tell your mother.”

Liam ran off and joined his friends. Thorpe strolled towards Cindy as if walking into a brewing storm.

“Not answering your phone now?” Cindy greeted him, wearing a look of diamond hardness.

Thorpe took a deep breath. He stood in front of her but looked out at the court. Liam and Pete dribbled and shot at the far goal.

After pizza, Thorpe dropped Liam home. Liam ran down his walkway and up the stairs. The young boy slammed the screen door behind him. Cindy screamed at Liam, her voice carrying. Liam hesitated at first, turning back to Thorpe, obviously not wanting to leave his father. Thorpe waved him on with a fake smile. He had to keep reminding himself that he had to push his feelings aside, not to let his emotions get the best of him.

Thorpe drove off. His home, at least for now, was a rental cottage that Warren suggested, small, but adequate. He’d have to move before the summer months. He wouldn’t be able to afford it as a summer rental.

Anger rekindled…divorce so quickly? Hadn’t he done everything she wanted? Given her everything they could afford? He wondered if she’d ever been happy. They must have been, mustn’t they?

He clearly recollected the omnivorous passion they’d once shared, but with any marriage, he assumed, the passion waned over the years replaced with responsibilities that a family entailed. Wasn’t surprising that Cindy had been unhappy with his work schedule. Hadn’t she made that perfectly clear? She’d wanted to socialize more, so she did it without him. He’d even encouraged it. After all, he’d trusted her. Sad when you thought the reciprocity of love was there and it wasn’t. Cindy searched for her fairytale prince, someone to rescue her from the mundane middle class life that held her captive. Obviously he’d failed miserably in that assignment.

There had been times when he’d sympathized with Cindy. He’d put his work first. She’d been a single parent at times, but he’d never betrayed her as she had him. He didn’t count that little tryst with an investment banker coming down for vacation from New York last year. That had been more to get back at Cindy for wanting the separation. It had meant nothing, and as far as he knew no one, especially Cindy, knew about it.

In his profession, affairs were almost an accepted norm. It had been when he’d worked in Boston. All those years and he’d never wavered, committed blindly to the vows he’d taken. He unlocked his new front door.

The darkness broke at the flick of a switch. Not wanting to interrupt his pity session, he poured himself a drink and plopped onto the rented recliner taking the bottle of Jack Daniels with him. Not his choice of drink, but it didn’t matter. It was all he had. He finished off his glass and poured another. He hit the remote, didn’t even pay attention to what was on TV. No thought of the case, work, Cindy, the kids, tomorrow. Right now, at this moment in time, he sought a way to survive the night.

Chapter Fifteen

Ramona struggled to become aware of her surroundings. Moonlight shone through a far window down a long hall. Her legs trembled. Apprehension overwhelmed her. A form emerged from the darkness. It stood motionless in a window frame—a creature. It stared at her, eyes penetrating hers. Though in darkness, she fathomed the unformed features on its strange face wrinkled in amusement. Its mouth gawped in a silent grin. Red-rimmed, hideously sparkling eyes regarded her from deep eye sockets, beckoning her on, challenging her.