The Colour of Death (20 page)

He smiled and raised his hands.  “Slow down.  There’s no rush.”  For the next half-hour, Delaney explained about the Indigo Family, their home — a private Eden deep in the Oregon wilderness — and how its members strived to explore all their senses in order to reach beyond the physical and become one with the spiritual and universal.  He spoke with such passion about the beauty of the land and of the family’s beliefs that she found herself falling under his spell.  Whenever she asked detailed questions, however, he would tell her to wait until she returned to the bosom of the family, ‘when everything will be answered’.  The more he talked about exploring the limits of the senses, the more her own synaesthesia made sense.  “Where do I get it from?”

“From both your mother and me,” he said.  “She’s passed to the other realm now but your mother first showed me the path and introduced me to the Indigo Family.”

“What was she like?”

“Beautiful, like you.  She too was fair.  You’re a younger version of her.”  He reached for the locket around Sorcha’s neck.  Her right hand sprang up defensively but he gently pushed it away and opened the locket.  “This was hers.  Your mother wore it always.  Until she passed.”  He showed Sorcha the photograph inside.  “This was you as a baby.  She loved you very much.”

Sorcha took the silver heart from him and looked again at the picture — at the stranger she had once been — and thought of the mother who had loved her.  If the locket had been important to her before, it was now precious beyond words.  “Why did I leave the Indigo Family?”

“I don’t know.  You were always headstrong.  I think I neglected you and you ran away to teach me a lesson.”  His voice became serious.  “I read in the newspapers about what you did for those girls.  Tell me what else has happened to you.  Dr. Fox says you’ve been having hallucinations.”

Delaney had Fox’s gift for listening and she found herself telling him everything:  her amnesia, her hallucinations and the killer who had stapled her newspaper photograph to three murder victims, tried to abduct her from her room and attacked her last night.  As he listened, the expression on his face changed — sympathetic when she spoke of her amnesia and hallucinations, angry when she told him about the killer — but he never interrupted.

Finally, for no other reason than it seemed natural to do so, she told him about her death-echo synaesthesia.  As she spoke, she studied his face but he betrayed neither surprise nor skepticism.  He just nodded understandingly.  He seemed to know her better than she knew herself and she realized, suddenly, that he probably did.  “Who else knows about this?” he asked.

“Dr. Fox, but he’s promised to keep it off the record.  I don’t want to be treated as a freak.”

“Do you trust Dr. Fox to keep his counsel?”

“Completely.”

He smiled and patted her on the shoulder.  “Don’t be frightened of this.  Embrace it.  The
mothú
in all its shapes and forms has been around for centuries, nurtured as a gift that makes us special, chosen.  All those with the
mothú
possess the third eye, and have the potential to see beyond the normal realm.  And your
mothú
is unusually strong.  When you return home all will become clearer.  You won’t feel an outsider among the Indigo Family because most have some form of the
mothú
.  There your gift will be understood, cherished and nurtured.  Only we can fully appreciate you.”  He paused and smiled at her.  “They’re eagerly awaiting word of you and are expecting me to bring you back.  We must return as soon as possible.”

The thought of leaving Tranquil Waters and Fox snapped her back to reality and sent a surge of panic coursing through her.  “But I need time.  Dr. Fox is treating me.”

He nodded slowly and smiled.  “I understand why you’re nervous but there’s nothing for you here.  Dr. Fox doesn’t really care for you, Sorcha — not like your family.  He’s only interested in your condition.  You’re a puzzle to him.  Nothing more.  My understanding of retrograde amnesia is that your memory could come back at any time, with or without Dr. Fox’s treatment.  There’s little modern medicine can do to discover your lost identity, apart from reassuring you that you’re safe and finding ways to stimulate your memory.”  He took her hand and squeezed it.  “Surely the best way of doing that is to return to the place you’ve lived in all your life and be reunited with your family?  We can teach you more about your powers than any psychiatrist.”  His face hardened.  “And now I know there’s a dangerous killer who means you harm, you
must
come home.”

She still felt anxious about leaving with this stranger.  “But…”

Delaney put a finger over her lips.  “Don’t worry.  Everything will be all right.”  He looked into her eyes and flashed a paternal smile, which stirred within her a deep sense of longing — and belonging.  “You’re my daughter, Sorcha.  You belong with me.  You belong with your family.”

Staring at her father, she noticed his aura for the first time and realized it was subtly different to any she had seen before.

Chapter 30

For a few hours Fox put Jane Doe — or Sorcha as he would have to learn to call her — out of his mind and concentrated on his other patients.  Later, however, as he prepared to leave for the day, he found his thoughts returning to her; he wondered how her meeting with her father had gone and what she intended to do about his reappearance in her life.  When he had expressed concern about his patient returning to a cult, Professor Fullelove had dismissed his fears, believing it was in Jane’s best interests to be reunited with her father and return to whatever her old life was.  There was no medical reason to keep her at the clinic and after the recent abduction attempts it would be safer for her and everyone else at Tranquil Waters if she left.  Fox told himself that whatever happened was out of his hands but the thought of his vulnerable patient leaving before he had fathomed her intriguing gifts frustrated him, and the idea of her returning to a cult alarmed him.

He went to look for her in her room.  She wasn’t there so he checked the television lounge, the indoor swimming pool area and the art therapy studio.  Although she wasn’t in any of those places, he was surprised by how many fellow residents knew her.  “Try the physical therapy room, Doctor.  Jane likes her exercise.”

When he checked the gym and asked the orderly supervising the exercise machines, one of the residents checked her watch.  “Knowing Jane, she’ll be on the running trail about now.  She says it helps clear her mind.”

Knowing Jane
.  The phrase provoked a smile.  The residents and the others he had encountered clearly had no problems with Jane Doe’s identity.  As he wandered outside, the lawns and the small lake were bathed in golden evening light.

“Dr. Fox.”  The familiar voice made him turn toward the setting sun.  For a moment the low angle of the light blinded him.  Then he blinked and saw Jane Doe running toward him with effortless graceful strides.  Two officers were shadowing her from a discreet distance.  Both were panting hard.  Watching her, he registered the curve of Jane’s neck, the shape of her profile and the way the sun caught her hair.  As she got closer, her luminous green eyes drew his attention.  When she slowed and fell into step beside him she was breathing harder than usual and her skin seemed to glow.  Despite her exertion, she exuded a clean, fragrant scent of soap and musk.  “How’s Samantha?”

“She’s fine.  How did it go with your father, Jane?”

She smiled.  “The name’s Sorcha.”

“I’m sorry.  I’ve only known you as Jane and it’s hard to change.”

“It’s OK.  You can call me whatever you like.”  She reached out and touched his arm.  The fleeting contact was like an electric shock, raising the hairs on his arms, inflaming his skin.  In that instant, sense ambushed and defenses breached, he saw her for the first time not as a patient but as a woman in her physical prime.  “Can I talk to you about my dad?”

He took a breath and composed himself.  “Of course you can.”  He led her down to the lake as the two cops watched from a distance.  “So what did you think of him?”

“It’s bizarre but he seems to know everything about me, all my hopes and fears.  He always says just the right thing to reassure or inspire me.  I like him.”

“He’s pretty charismatic.  Did he talk about the cult?”

She nodded.  “He made it sound kind of cool and the whole Indigo Family thing made me feel better about my synaesthesia.  Apparently many of the cult members have some form of it.  The
mothú
is kind of their thing.”  Fox listened carefully.  Despite his distrust of Delaney’s cult he would have loved to interview its members.  They would make a fascinating research group for better understanding synaesthesia in all its various forms.  Sorcha paused.  “I told him about my death-echo synaesthesia.”

“Really?”  At the lake’s edge she sat on a small bench and he sat beside her.  “Why?”

“I don’t know really.  Something about him, the way he listened, made me want to tell him everything.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me not to be afraid of my gift and that the family would help me appreciate and develop it.”  She frowned and gazed out at the still water.  “You think I should go back with him?”

“What I think is unimportant.  This is about what
you
want.  Anyway, you haven’t got to decide now.”

“I do.  He wants to take me back tomorrow.”

Fox felt a sudden stab of panic.  “Tomorrow?”

“He says my family’s waiting.”  She sighed.  “It’s all a bit sudden and I’m not sure I’m ready to go yet.  That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Can’t you ask your father to wait a few days?”

“I did, but he was pretty adamant.  He’s convinced you’ve done all you can for me and sees no reason for me to say here any longer than I have to.  Especially now he knows there’s a killer in the city obsessed with me.  He thinks I’ll be safer with his people and the sooner I leave Portland the better.”

“So what are you going to do, Jane — I mean, Sorcha?”

“I’m not going to let some sick killer decide for me, that’s for sure.  His fixation with me has got nothing to do with how I spend the rest of my life.”  She sighed.  “It should be simple.  I assumed I’d want to go home and find out more about myself — or the person I once was — but suddenly I don’t see it as a return home.  Portland seems more like home to me now.  I know you better than I know my family, and I trust you.”  She turned and looked into his eyes.  “What do
you
think I should do?  What do you want me to do, Nathan?”

“I want what’s best for you.”

“What’s that?  It’s not like my father lives across town so I can drop by, check out my old home and come away if I feel like it.  Once I return to my wilderness family I doubt I’ll be able to come back to the city any time soon.  Tell me what to do.  You know me better than I know myself.  I’ll do whatever you say.”  She looked into his eyes with the same need and hunger she had displayed the first time they’d met.  Back then he would have happily told her to go.  But now he realized he didn’t want her to leave.  Not because she was an intriguing mystery or because he didn’t want her to return to her father’s cult but because, for the first time, for whatever reason, he had met someone he wanted to keep in his life.  “What should I do, Nathan?  Do I stay or do I go?”

It was an impossible question for Fox to answer.  Personally, he wanted to tell her to stay and go nowhere near her father’s cult.  Professionally, he knew he couldn’t allow his personal prejudices and feelings to compromise her future.  Whatever emotions she stirred in him, she was still his patient.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

Sitting next to the psychiatrist, watching the sunset, Sorcha was no less torn.  She envied Fox the memories and relationships that enriched his life:  his professional career; the affection he and his aunt shared for each other; the karate trophies; even the photographs of his murdered family.  Good and bad, they all informed Fox of his identity and anchored his place in the world.  If she returned home with Regan Delaney, her own memories and relationships could eventually be restored to her — along with a deeper understanding of her synaesthesia.  Her father clearly
wanted
her.  He had come for her and was committed to her return.  By going back with him she would belong with someone again.  She had assumed that rediscovering her past self was what she wanted more than anything in the entire world but it wasn’t that simple any more.  Her father was a stranger to her and although she desperately wanted to rediscover her place in the world, she couldn’t escape the fact that she didn’t want to leave.  Specifically, she didn’t want to leave Fox.  “Do I stay or do I go?”

Fox said nothing for a while.  “This isn’t a medical decision…  Sorcha.  Clinically there’s little reason for you to stay at Tranquil Waters much longer.  Despite your amnesia your brain scans show no physiological abnormalities.  You sleep without medication; you have no symptoms of clinical depression.  You’re eating’s OK and you’re physically fine.  I’d be discharging you soon, anyway, because it’s important to get you on with your life in the real world.  The real question is whether you want to return to your old life with your father and his cult, or start a new life with support here in Portland?”

“What do
you
think I should do, Nathan?” she pressed.

“It doesn’t matter what I think.  Only you can know whether you need to resolve your past before you decide your future.  You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t want to find out where you came from and who you were.  In your position I’d probably want to learn as much as possible about the person I once was before I embarked on the rest of my life.”

“You want me to go back?”

“I don’t
want
you to go back,” he said gently.  “As your psychiatrist, I’d have liked more time to help you understand your synaesthesia but, aside from your amnesia, you're perfectly healthy.  This isn’t a medical choice.  It’s a life choice.  One you’ve got to make yourself.  It’s
your
past and
your
future.”