“That’s settled.” He put a plate before her. “Eat. It’s after eight. We need to visit Boy Genius.”
* * * *
Steve had devoured a bowl of grits. He was watching The Today Show. While he still had the IV, there was only one medicine pump instead of two, in addition to the morphine pump.
“Matt!” He grinned. “Hey, I’m sorry I was so out of it yesterday.” Matt leaned in for a one-armed hug, Steve clapping him on the back with his good hand.
He saw Sami, and his face clouded. Remorse, maybe? His eyes looked clear. “Hi, Sami.”
She let him kiss her, and he squeezed her good hand. He gently took her right hand in his and touched the bandage on her wrist, his eyes wet. “Babe, I’m so sorry—”
“Shh, it’s okay. It was the fever, it wasn’t you.” How much did he remember? Matt said Steve appeared coherent. Maybe he was wrong.
“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe I did that. It’s like someone else was calling the shots.” Matt and Sami exchanged looks over the top of Steve’s head. “I’m wondering if I need to talk to Dr. Raymond about admitting me.”
“What’s this? Is my most famous patient self-diagnosing?” Dr. Raymond walked over to Steve. “Dr. Smith told me what happened.” He glanced at Sami’s arm, then to Matt.
Steve introduced Matt. “This is our friend and agent, Matt Barry, the man who makes the magic numbers appear in my bank account every month.”
“Hey, you do all the work, even if you are goldbricking.”
“I can stop by later—”
“No, that’s okay,” Sami said. “Please, I think Steve needs to talk to you. I’ll take Matt on a tour of the town square.” She leaned over and kissed Steve. “We’ll be back in about an hour.”
“What was that all about?” Matt asked as they left the hospital.
“Steve is obviously in a lot of distress right now. Whether he’s drinking or possessed or going through a midlife crisis, I don’t care. Anything he can do to get himself stabilized is good.” She led the way to the different stores, and they ended up in front of Many Blessings.
“Well, it’s colorful,” Matt snarked as he stared at the sign.
Julie was alone in the store. Sami introduced Matt.
Julie took his hand, looking deep into his eyes while Sami fought a brief wave of jealousy. “My friend and agent, Matthew Barry.”
Julie smiled, still maintaining eye contact with Matt. “You may be her agent, but the two of you are much more than friends.”
Matt and Sami both blushed. Julie laughed. “Guys, the energy flowing between you two—I don’t even read auras, but you’d have to be blind to miss it. Your physical relationship might be in the past, but you still love each other very deeply.” She paused. “Your paths are merging again.”
Sami could tell from the look on Matt’s face that Julie had struck so close to the mark that it nearly freaked him out. She felt his body tense, as if fighting the urge to bolt from the store. “Um, I wanted to ask you about the secret room you said you sensed in Sam’s basement.”
Julie was instantly all business. “I’m sure it’s there, but I don’t know how to get into it.”
“Would you be willing to come back to the house today to try again?”
Sami wondered what he was up to.
“Would I? Are you kidding? I’d love to! What time?”
They agreed on a time and Sami tried to pay for the house blessing. Julie waved her off. “Not on your life. Your money’s no good if it involves that house. I’m just grateful for the chance to check it out.”
“Then will you at least let me pay for two cappuccinos?”
She grinned. “That I’ll let you do.”
* * * *
“What was that about?” Sami whispered so a passing couple couldn’t overhear.
He sipped his cappuccino. “You have to admit, we found a secret room.”
“Not in the basement.”
“I know. I want to see how good she is.”
“I’d say she was pretty damn good.”
He smiled. “One of my sister’s friends ran a fortune-teller booth for a Halloween carnival back in college. Her dad was a bunko detective. He taught her how to do cold readings, and it really spooked people. She showed me how she did it, and when you know how it’s done, it makes a lot of sense. It’s easier to fool people than you’d think.”
“So you don’t think she’s legit?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t say that. I think she’s dead-on.” He met Sami’s gaze. “I’m saying there’s more than one explanation sometimes, and it’s possible for all those explanations to be at least partially right.”
Dr. Raymond was finishing his session with Steve when they returned. “Mrs. Corey, can I speak to you for a few minutes? Alone.”
She nodded. Dr. Raymond found a vacant consultation room near the pastoral office and closed the door.
“Steve’s in a very fragile emotional state right now.”
“That sounds like something you’d hear in a movie.”
“I know it does, and I hate clichés as much as anyone. He’s convinced he’s losing his mind.”
“Is he?”
“I don’t think so. I think he knows he’s made some bad decisions, and I think he needs to get back on track with his recovery, but I don’t think he’s crazy.”
Sami resisted the urge to tell him the full story, knowing the doctor wouldn’t believe her. Instead, “He told me last night he doesn’t want to have kids.”
Raymond nodded. “He said I could tell you what we talked about this morning. It’s something he’s struggled with, what caused him to act the way he has the past several months. He’s worried he’ll lose you.”
“He’s got that right. I don’t like being lied to. He was all for having kids when we first got married.”
“Is that important to you?”
Sami considered it. Honestly, she didn’t know anymore, not after all that had happened. “What’s important is I need a husband who’s completely honest, who I don’t have to worry whether he’s having a bad day or he’s been out drinking. Is that too much to ask?”
“Why are you concerned he might be drinking again?”
Sami hesitated. “Last night, Matt and I found a hidden stash of whiskey at the house.” Okay, not the whole truth, but not a lie either.
Raymond sat back. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. I think it’s possible the second round of blood tests were the wrong ones, and that he was drunk the other day.” Okay, she didn’t believe that, but the shrink didn’t have to know.
Yeah, try to explain that. Hey, Doc, you’ll love this. I think a drunk, psychotic ghost has possessed my husband. Riiiiight.
The doctor was quiet for a moment. “This puts a whole new spin on it.”
“Yes. I know you’re his doctor, but I’m his wife. I don’t want you telling him what I said, either. I want to give him a chance to come clean and be honest with me. If he can do that”—she hesitated—“maybe I can learn to trust him again.”
“If he’s drinking again, it would explain a lot.”
She nodded. “I don’t think he needs inpatient treatment. Not yet, at least. I think he needs to learn to quit running and confront his problems head-on. If he’s lying to you about not drinking, he hasn’t hit bottom yet.”
Yes, those years of Al-anon meetings paid off. She remembered the catchphrases. She wanted Steve at home, not in a psych ward. Whatever was going on, there was nothing the doctors could do for him that she couldn’t do at the house. She still didn’t believe he was drinking, but if she could convince the shrink, it would buy some time for her to help Steve. Probably not in time to save their marriage, but she might be able to save his life.
She realized she was finally admitting there was something supernatural at the root of all of this.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dr. Raymond walked her back to Steve’s room. Matt and Steve were engaged in quiet discu
ssion when they returned.
“Steve,” Dr. Raymond said, “I’ve talked things over with your wife, and we’re in agreement. She wants you home, and then the two of you can decide what happens. You’ve had several harsh days, and no real time to relax and enjoy your new home. We’ll continue our sessions at my office. It would probably be a good idea for you to attend meetings.”
Steve wiped his eyes and reached for Sami’s hand. “Okay. Thank you.”
Dr. Raymond left, and Steve regained his composure. “Sami, why don’t you take Matt to Tampa? Get him a rental. It’s the least we can do.”
“We just got here.” And Julie was due at the house at four.
“I know, but I’m stuck here until at least tomorrow. There’s no reason for both of us to go stir-crazy in this place.”
This was unexpected. “But I’ve got an…exterminator coming at four. I have to be there.” Okay, so Julie sort of was an exterminator, but not the normal kind.
“You can make it back by then. Drop Matt off and go home.”
She shot Matt a puzzled look, and he shrugged. What the hell was going on? She knew she wouldn’t win. “It’s not how I planned the day, but okay.”
They stayed with Steve for a little longer until he started dozing from the medicine. “Don’t worry about coming back tonight. I’ll be okay. Just call me.”
She kissed him. “Okay. If you’re sure?”
He nodded. “I don’t want you driving all the way back over here at night.”
But he wanted her to drive all the way to Tampa?
* * * *
When they returned to the truck, Sami turned on Matt. “Okay, what the hell was that about?”
Matt held up his hands. “Not my idea. Steve asked me when my meetings were, and then said it wasn’t fair for me not to have a car. I told him I didn’t need a car for a couple of weeks yet, but he was almost frantic about it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know!” Matt started the truck. “All I know is he kept saying the weirdest stuff, like, ‘everything was clear in his head.’ He wasn’t making sense.”
Steve had—in fact—scared Matt, but no way in hell he’d admit it to Sam.
“You have to have your own car,” Steve said. “Keep the keys on you.” What the hell was that about? And, “I won’t let it happen that way. Don’t let me hurt her, promise me, Matt, promise me you’ll protect her, no matter what.”
Steve had been coherent. The nurse came in and checked his temperature and other vitals while they’d talked. Everything appeared normal.
Steve had grabbed Matt’s wrist, his grip strong and tight, and wouldn’t let go until Matt swore to keep her safe. Matt agreed, even though he felt guilty. When Steve released Matt’s arm, it was like a peace settled over Steve. He started talking about the hospital food as if their conversation never happened.
“And why isn’t Steve being admitted to a psych ward?” Matt asked. “I think he had his doctor talked into signing admission papers and now Steve’s coming home.”
“He doesn’t belong in a psych ward. They can’t help him.”
“You don’t think he’d benefit from a Thorazine drip? Because personally, I think that kind of cocktail might be exactly what he needs.”
“Nothing they do can help him beyond getting his infection under control.”
“What the hell are we supposed to do? Sit him down and say, ‘Now, Steve, we know this is difficult to accept, but you’re possessed by a crazy drunk guy’s spirit and we’re here to help?’”
“Julie might be able to help him.”
“Ha! The cappuccino lady? Sam, this is a looong way from séances and Tarot cards. If there’s really something wrong with him supernaturally, we need serious help.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” she screamed, her fury shocking him into silence. “Don’t you think I know what’s at stake? Believe me, I’m fully aware of what we’re dealing with. But unless we can help Steve, when I divorce him, he’s probably going to end up dead like George Simpson and Tom Prescott and all those other people! If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have that on my conscience!”
Matt nearly ran off the road and forced himself to keep both hands on the wheel, and his eyes on the vehicle ahead of him.
When I divorce him, she’d said.
Not “if.”
When.
* * * *
It was a silent drive to Tampa. Sami spent the trip staring out her window. Matt didn’t speak except to verify directions. It would be easiest and cheapest to rent from the airport and return it before his flight home.
Outside the terminal, he put the truck in park and got out. She slid behind the wheel. “But I need to—”
“I’m a big boy with credit cards. I’ll call it a business expense and charge it off. I’m the boss, I can do things like that. You go back to the house. I’ll find my way there.”
“Then I’ll see you at home.”
“You can call that place home?”
She shrugged. “It feels a lot better than it did before Julie cleansed it. I know it’s still got problems, but…” She shrugged again. “It’s growing on me.”
Like a cancerous tumor. “Go ahead, sweetie. You don’t need to wait on me.”
* * * *
Steve closed his eyes and tried to sleep. Matt’s promise put him at ease. He would make sure Sami stayed safe, no matter what.
He should have insisted on being admitted instead of letting Sami talk Dr. Raymond out of it. She had no idea what she was dealing with. Neither did Dr. Raymond.
The dreams were vivid, unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and they were getting worse. A little girl, raped and dumped in a hole in the ground. A woman, tied to a bed and raped. A man hanging from the banister. An Indian girl…
He didn’t want to think about it.
And yet, he couldn’t help it.
It might be his overactive imagination, but that didn’t explain the clarity of the dreams he had about Sami and Matt. Like they had wine coolers the night before, and how she fell into Matt’s arms at the park gate when he arrived.
Or Matt lying in the guest bed, thinking about Sami, and how he breathed in the scent from her hair while she slept in his arms after they heard the noises in the attic.
How they found a cache of whiskey in his office closet, and knew he hadn’t touched that stash.
Sami lied about the appointment. He wasn’t sure why, but there weren’t bugs in the house. He didn’t want to lose Sami. Even more, he didn’t want to hurt her.
He kept seeing the house out of different eyes, in different times—flashbacks?—and it scared him.
There was something else, too, a woman with curly, red hair, and he didn’t want to think about her because she filled him with rage.
He woke up disoriented and remembered he was in the hospital.
Again with the dreams.
He couldn’t tell what was real and what was in his mind anymore.
God, I need a drink.
* * * *
Matt was nearly an hour behind Sami. The Toyota SUV handled great. He thought the four-wheel drive might come in handy on the sandy park roads.
Pog was immobilized in the kitchen. Matt found Sami downstairs in the basement, staring at the empty bookcase. “What’s going on?”
“Look up.”
He looked up. “Yeah?”
“What do you see?”
He shrugged. “Floor joists, a few cobwebs, electrical conduit.”
She handed him a tape measure. “Go upstairs and measure from the living room doorway to the far kitchen wall, the one the basement door’s on. Then come back here.”
She had a determined look on her face, the “don’t ask questions, just DO it” look. He measured a hair over fifteen feet and returned to the basement.
She pointed at the joists. “That’s where the kitchen wall is. Measure from there to the bookcase.”
He must have miscalculated. “Eight feet?
”
She nodded. “Pog won’t even go close to the threshold. Come watch this.” She took the tape measure from Matt and they went upstairs.
Pog looked miserable under the table. Sami extended the tape measure, laying it on the floor and locking it. The living room threshold was at the fifteen foot mark. The far end of the kitchen table stood at eight feet.
Matt realized he hadn’t seen Pog go around the far end of the table, just the end closest to the basement door.
Sami reached into the fridge and pulled out a hotdog, one of Pog’s favorite treats, one he couldn’t resist. He saw the dog’s interest grow when Sami stepped over the eight-foot mark and waited at the doorway.
“Poggy, Pog-wog, c’mon, here, boy!”
The Lab stopped at the end of the kitchen table, extending his nose, but not his feet, into the “neutral zone” between the eight- and fifteen-foot marks.
He would not cross.
She looked at Matt and tapped the floor with her foot. It sounded hollow, not solid, like under the living room floor where the basement didn’t extend. “That’s where the room is.”
“Fine, but how do we get into it?”
She tossed Pog the treat and he took it under the table. “I don’t know, but we’ve got enough time to eat before Julie gets here. We need to be honest with her and tell her the full story.”
“I don’t want to read in the papers she’s feeding them stories about Steve being possessed or something.”
“That won’t happen.”
They were finishing their meal when Julie’s green Element appeared in the drive. “Right on time,” Sami said.
She held the kitchen door open for Julie, who was weighed down by a large box of items, as well as a backpack, a duffel bag, and another carry case slung over her shoulder. Her wild hair was tamed into a ponytail. She’d changed into jeans and a black T-shirt.
Sami could picture this Julie running a company.
Pog ventured out from under the table. He determined she was friend, not foe, and retreated to his lair.