The Colour of Death (19 page)

“She has the
mothú
.”

“The what?” said Fullelove.

“The
mothú
.  The sense.  The third eye.”

“I’m still not following you,” Fullelove said.

“You probably prefer to call it synaesthesia.”

“Are you aware that she has
total
synaesthesia, Mr. Delaney?” said Fox.  “This is incredibly rare, probably unique.”

“The
mothú
in all its forms is an uncommon and misunderstood gift,” Delaney said matter-of-factly.  He stared at Fox.  “But then you must know that, Dr. Fox.  I see you have it, too.”

Fullelove’s eyes widened.  “How do you know that?”

“He has an indigo aura.  It’s obvious.  To me, at least.”

It was Fox’s turn to scrutinize the visitor.  He burned to ask him about Jane Doe’s death-echo synaesthesia.  “Anything you can tell us about my patient’s unique synaesthesia could prove beneficial…”

“Beneficial to who, Dr. Fox?” countered Delaney with a half-smile.  “To her?  Or to you and your research?”

Fox frowned but kept his voice even.  “To her, of course.  Particularly in understanding her hallucinations.”

For the first time Delaney paused.  “Hallucinations?”

“Yes.  Dr. Fox is helping her gain some detachment and manage her fear,” said Fullelove.

“We’ll help her back at the settlement,” said Delaney.  “My people can clear her chakras and—”

“Her chakras?” interrupted Fox.  “Jane Doe needs
proper
treatment.”

Delaney laughed.  “Psychiatry is no more proper or effective than the ancient medicine we use.  Chakras have been around for thousands of years.  Psychiatry is in its infancy.  You psychiatrists can't even fully explain how most of your new miracle drugs work.”

“You can’t compare—”

“Is she physically recovered?”

“Yes,” said Fox.

“Is she mentally sound, apart from her memory loss?”

“I believe so, but—”

“Can you cure her amnesia, Dr. Fox?”

“Not directly, no, but we can help treat it.  If you tell us why you think she went missing we might uncover the stresses that triggered her fugue state.  Something apparently frightened her.  Do you know what it might have been?  Do you know why she might have been trying to escape the cult?”

Delaney shook his head.  “She wasn’t escaping anything.  She’s no longer a child and, like all my people, she’s free to come and go as she pleases.”  He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.  “I’m the reason she left.”

“Why?”

“She’d say I neglected her, didn’t pay her the attention she thought she deserved.  So she ran away, hoping I’d come after her.”  He sighed.  “So here I am.  It’s hard to be a good parent, sometimes, especially when
everyone
regards you as their father.”

“You regard yourself as her parent because you’re the father of the cult?” said Fullelove.  “the father of the Indigo Family?”

“Yes.  But I’m also her blood father.  She’s my daughter.”

Fox scoured his face for a likeness.  The graying Delaney had once been dark but Jane Doe was fair.  “Would you be prepared to take a DNA test?” he asked.

“Is that necessary, Professor?” the visitor asked, turning the full beam of his charm on Fullelove.  She blinked and then turned to Fox.  From her doe-eyed expression it was obvious she didn’t doubt the man’s sincerity.  Fox felt differently.

“Professor, my patient’s making good progress but she’s still very vulnerable,” said Fox.  “Without documentation I feel a paternity test is crucial.”  He turned back to Delaney.  “Even if the test is positive she still has to agree to see you.  She has full-blown retrograde amnesia with no recollection of her past life so it’s extremely unlikely she’ll know who you are.”

Delaney’s jaw clenched again, but the smile didn’t waver.  “Give me any test you think necessary.  Just let me see my daughter.”

Chapter 28

After taking a saliva swab from Delaney’s mouth, Fox escorted the visitor back to reception.  On the way, he made a detour past the room in which Jane Doe had sensed the two suicides on the first day.  It was still unoccupied so he opened the door and led Delaney inside.  “This is the kind of room Jane Doe’s in now.”

“I don’t doubt the standard of care here, Dr. Fox.  I just want to see my daughter.”  As Delaney stepped through the doorway and looked around the room, Fox watched him closely.  Delaney peered into the adjoining private bathroom and, as his hands brushed the walls, Fox thought he saw Delaney momentarily narrow his eyes.  Then the moment passed.  If the man possessed the same death-echo synaesthesia as the women he claimed as his daughter, then it didn’t affect him in the same way.  He certainly didn’t seem frightened of it.  Fox waited a moment longer then escorted him back to reception.

After taking Delaney’s cell phone number and arranging to call when the results of the paternity test came through in a few hours, Fox returned to his office.  As he sat at his desk he tried to forget about Jane Doe and concentrate on the other case files piled up in front of him.  Assuming the results came back positive, he would alert Jane Doe that her father had arrived and, depending on what she decided to do, she could soon be out of his life.  No longer his patient.  No longer his concern.

Simple.

Except it wasn’t simple.  Jane Doe was unlike any other patient he had ever treated; he couldn’t just let her go.  He still had too many unanswered questions.  Not just about her symptoms and death-echo synaesthesia but also about Delaney, his cult and the details of what had caused Jane Doe to run away.

Sitting at his computer, Fox Googled one of the terms Delaney had used to describe synaesthesia: 
mothú
.  He discovered that it was an Irish Celtic noun meaning ‘sense’.  What else had he called it? 
The third eye
.  Fox had heard the expression before, through his karate sensei, and understood vaguely that it was an Eastern term for second sight or the sixth sense.  The definition he found on the web was fuller:

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?”