The Skull Ring (16 page)

The ring was hers.

Oh, Christ almighty, the ring was
hers
.

But that made no sense. A ring sized for a four-year-old wouldn't fit now. Had it expanded as she touched it, had it widened itself to accommodate her finger?

The ring is yours, the ring is yours, INHALE . . . .

Rings didn't shrink and grow. Satan was not real, and had no power. The only thing that held power over her was panic. She tried to relax the way Dr. Forrest had taught her.

But Dr. Forrest was miles and miles away, and Julia was alone with the ring.

Inhale. INHALE—

She crawled across the floor, and the dark cloak of panic became a noose, clamping tightly around her neck. Tears trailed down her cheeks.

Julia reached the bedside table, her lungs on fire from the lack of air. Her heartbeat was thin and rapid. She found the phone, pulled it to her lap, punched the numbers.

She managed a shallow gasp as the connection was made and the earpiece gave its electronic purr. By the third ring, she had exhaled.

Please be there
.

The phone clicked, and the voice spoke on the other end of the line. "Hello?"

Julia could breathe now. The air was sweet again, air-conditioned and cool and relaxing. "Dr. Forrest, it's me."

"Julia?"

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"I—I'm having an episode."

"Where are you?" Dr. Forrest sounded almost angry.

"Memphis. I flew in yesterday."

"
Memphis
? Without my approval?" No denying the anger now. "Something like this could set us back months."

"I had to find out—"

"What could you possibly find out?"

"I went to the old house," Julia said.

Dr. Forrest said nothing. Julia looked around for the ring as she continued. "I saw the barn behind my house. That's where it happened. I know that's where it happened. And my father . . . "

"Say it, Julia. Say it so that you can make yourself believe it."

"My father was one of them."

"One of the bad people. One of the Creeps. You finally believe."

Julia thought about telling Dr. Forrest about the ring, but she was afraid. If Dr. Forrest was this angry over Julia going to Memphis without permission, the therapist might have a panic attack of her own. Julia needed to make sense of the discovery before she shared it.

"Yes," Julia said. "I remember it now. He was there at the ceremony. My father wed me to Satan."

"Just as you dreamed. Just the way you shared while under hypnosis." Dr. Forrest was slightly calmer.

"It's all true."

"I wouldn't let you lie to yourself, would I, Julia?"

"No, Dr. Forrest."

"When are you coming back?"

"Tomorrow."

"Good. I'll schedule you for a Tuesday session."

"That . . . that would be good."

"So, what set off your panic attack?"

Anything besides the ring and the electric power that surged through my skin at its contact
. "I was just thinking about it all. How terrible it was. What a monster my father was."

"I understand, Julia." She sounded excited now. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Julia now saw the ring, lying on the floor where the edge of the bedspread brushed the carpet.

"This means that we're approaching healing," Dr. Forrest said. "We've assessed the damage and we've pictured the effects of the ritual abuse. Now it's time for the final step."

"The final step?" Julia watched the ring as if expecting it to turn molten and slither across the floor toward her.

"Preparing for change. Now you're ready to embrace the past, to become whole. To become the whore Judas Stone."

Julia's breath leaped away. "
WHAT?
"

"I said it's time for you to become the whole Julia Stone."

Julia shook her head. If she were going to start twisting the words of her therapist, she would lose herself to the oily sea of fear and float adrift. She couldn't afford to break this last lifeline of trust. "I talked to one of the officers who worked my father's case."

"Who was it?" Dr. Forrest asked, sounding angry again. Why should she care which one Julia talked to?

"James Whitmore. He's retired now."

"Have they learned anything new?"

"Nothing new," Julia said. "In fact, the case is pretty much buried."

Just like the box had been.

Julia felt well enough to drag herself onto the bed. She twirled the phone cord and waited for Dr. Forrest to speak.

"You're not going to see Dr. Danner while you're there, are you?" the doctor finally said.

"No. Why should I?"

"Well, some patients develop an addiction to their therapists. I've been friends with Lance for many years. But I think you need to sever those ties to Memphis. They're not doing you any good."

"I don't want to go backwards," Julia said. "I'm grateful for the help he gave me, but I really feel like you understand me better. I believe you'll help me heal."

"Of course I will, Julia. You just have to trust me."

"I trust you."

"Then listen to me. Practice the visualization exercises we've been working on. Take a deep breath, a belly breath." The doctor's voice became, soothing and even. "Your hands are inflating. Your fingers are swelling with light, warm heat. They are feathers, they are little clouds, they are fish sunning in a pool."

"Mmm," Julia said, the memory of the treatment as effective as her practice of it. Dr. Forrest took her through the rest of the exercise, until she was lying flat on the bed. By that time, the bed was a magic carpet floating high under the sun.

"Are you relaxed now?" Dr. Forrest whispered.

"Mm-hmm." Julia was so relaxed she wasn't even aware of her pulse rate. She remembered something had been bothering her, but somehow only the lightness seemed important at the moment.

"I'll see you on Tuesday. Have a good evening, Julia."

"Bye, Dr. Forrest," she said softly. "And thanks."

She hung up the phone and was very nearly asleep when she remembered the ring.

She rolled out of bed, clinging to the peaceful images that Dr. Forrest had suggested. She took the old stained cloth from the desk and picked up the ring without making skin contact with the metal. She sealed it inside the box and tucked the box back in her purse for safekeeping.

Outside, darkness was falling, and pricks of light appeared in the buildings as the city changed shifts. Julia undressed, slipped into a thin nightgown, and climbed into bed. She fell asleep wondering if Mitchell would call.

She awoke refreshed, unburdened by the lingering images of any dreams. She scarcely thought of the ring in her purse. After a shower, she dressed and went down to the lobby for a cup of coffee. Caffeine was bad for her, made it harder for her to remain calm, but the habit was old. Maybe someday, after Dr. Forrest healed her, she'd be able to give up all her little crutches.

When Julia got back to her room, she dialed the offices of
The Commercial Appeal
and reached her old friend Sue.

"Well, looky what the cat dragged in," Sue said in her slow drawl. The sounds of a busy newsroom spilled from the background.

"Did you get my message?" Julia asked.

"Just got it this morning. I figured you'd call me here, and I didn't want to call back in case Mitchell was with you."

"There was nothing to interrupt, unfortunately."

"That's a shame, girl. Damn, that man is a hunk." Sue McAllister had never been shy about poking into other people’s bedrooms or closets. That was why she was such a successful reporter. "Well, if you're not in Memphis to rumple the sheets with Mitchell Austin, what the heck are you doing here?"

"Just doing a little digging," Julia said. "And I was hoping you could help."

"Honey, we've been through all the files in the morgue. You've got every scrap of information on your father's case that was ever printed. Hell, you know more about the case than the cops do."

You can say that again
, Julia thought, and almost told Sue about finding the ring. But it was her one little secret, the one thing that provided a solid link to that long-ago night. Julia knew she was being paranoid, but she decided that the secret was worth keeping for now. “I’d like to get a list of the detectives who worked on the disappearance."

"I thought you already did that."

"Well, I wasn't paying attention to the names."

"Hey, I can tell you're onto something. You going to let old Susie Q in on the deal?" Sue used Julia's nickname for her, a reference to the Credence Clearwater Revival song.

"You'll get the scoop if something turns up. I know solving a twenty-year-old missing-persons case isn't Page One stuff, but at least you'll have my gratitude."

"Great. That and a quarter will let me throw a coin in a street musician's hat."

"Is it okay if I come down around eleven? Then I'll take you out to lunch."

"Okay. I'll have to run, though. They're releasing the autopsy report of a suspected drug dealer. Five bullet holes in him, what do you think was the cause of death?"

"Let me guess. No matter what the medical examiner's ruling, the D.A.'s office will go, 'No evidence, no case.'"

"Saves taxpayer money."

Julia took a cab across town. The
Appeal
had changed very little in four months, and Julia grew a little wistful seeing her old desk. The newsroom was just as busy as before, her column inches in the first four pages filled by younger, hungrier writers. A few former coworkers seemed glad to see her, but afforded her only a couple of minutes before turning back to the day's breaking stories.

Sue McCallister was vibrant in a red skirt and jacket, her curly brown hair tied back with a scarf. Julia hugged her, glad for some human contact after enduring Mitchell's mood swings. They spent a couple of minutes catching up on the last few months and Julia's new job, and then Sue said, "You got your 'bloodhound' face on. Let's get to the clippings."

They went to a small cubicle and sat at a table covered with press releases and Styrofoam coffee cups. Sue had already made copies of all the stories on Douglas Stone's disappearance, and the pages protruded from a manila folder. Julia was familiar with most; she had clippings of the case tucked into her filing cabinet in Elkwood. This time, though, she jotted notes from each.

"Ah, what are we looking for?" Sue said, her smile bright with lipstick.

"Cops. I’m tracking the trackers."

"Well, T.L. Snead headed that case, at least early on. It got dropped pretty quick."

"Snead. Why does that sound familiar?"

"Probably because you've read it a hundred times. He's the one who made all the media statements."

They went deeper into the pile. Other officers listed were Whitmore, a Sgt. J.T. Redding, and Sgt. W.R. Ussery. Julia scanned the copy she almost knew by heart, hoping to catch something she had missed the first time. No mention of Satanic connections had ever been made.

One article was accompanied by a photograph of little Julia, her eyes wide and her mouth relaxed in shock. Some unidentified Social Services worker was leading her into an office building. The cut-line copy downplayed the "abandoned girl" theme, but it was impossible to avoid sensationalism totally. Julia had been front-page news for nearly a week, slipped to the crime briefs, and finally was gone, fading into the gray wasteland of dead stories.

Snead was quoted in several of the early articles. He used copspeak such as "We're following up on every lead" and "We're hopeful that Mr. Stone will be found." Snead was photographed at the front of the house, directing the investigation, his hooked nose and dark eyes making him look like a great bird of prey. Far in the background, barely visible in the murky ink of the fence line, the barn stood in the meadow.

Julia's heart raced for a moment, but she turned her mind back to business.

"T.L. Snead, T.L. Snead," Julia murmured. "I wonder what his initials stand for?"

Sue wiggled two of her fingers. "Let your fingers do the walking, girl."

Sue turned to her computer and mouse-clicked her way to a database of public records that included municipal police reports. A separate database listed the members of the police force, their salaries, and career highlights. Sue made a dirty joke about “police briefs” as she browsed the files.

T.L. Snead was not on the current roster. A search revealed that Snead had transferred from the force four months ago, though he was nearing retirement. The lieutenant had resigned to accept a position in Elkwood, North Carolina.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Weird," said Sue. "How many people move from Memphis to Elkwood every year?"