Dark Storm

by Karen Harper

  Nick stood and shook the doctor’s hand. She sat across the table from them and lifted her laptop lid. The glow from the screen lit her gray eyes.

  “I asked the lab to rush the findings,” she told them. “Darcy had faint traces of a drug called propranolol in her system. It’s a beta blocker, fairly new, used to blunt post-traumatic stress disease—and, frankly, to blunt stressful memories.”

  “To make her forget what’s happened,” Claire said.

  “Yes. It specifically targets trauma. It has even been used for stage fright. I tend to think of it by the nickname Prop—a prop for those who have nightmares and trauma. Its most important uses are to help handle, even erase, such disturbing and haunting events as war, accidents, rape and natural disasters.”

  Claire gripped Nick’s hand so hard he winced. He said, “So it doesn’t let the person calmly recall memories, but actually buries them, so to speak.”

  “Exactly. But the sufferers may have flashbacks. Now that she’s off the drug, that could happen. But it’s up to us to pull those memories out, help her deal with them. And, of course, in this case it may be evidence for a crime.

  “Claire,” she went on, looking now only at her, “you mentioned her speaking of seeing people in pools, water, a dolphin. These could be fragmentary memories of where she was and what happened. However, you will be relieved to know that the physical examination we did indicates she was not forcefully violated, nor did she have any signs of a struggle. No bruises or cuts, nothing under her fingernails. She’s been hydrated but not well-fed, I would surmise from findings,” she said, looking down at the screen again. “It won’t take long for us to reverse that, so I hope we can discover why she was given the Prop. What was it her abductors were trying to make her forget?”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll begin listening and counseling sessions, which I will allow you to attend if you let me take the lead and only weigh in if I ask you.”

  “Yes. Yes, thank you. Might I sit behind her and raise my hand if I can think of something to say or advise you?”

  The doctor’s gray eyes narrowed for a moment. She looked at Nick, who shrugged as if to say, That’s my Claire.

  “Yes, all right,” the doctor said with a curt nod. “You handled it very well when she asked why the policeman was in the hall and you assured her it was standard procedure for this area.”

  “I hate to lie to her. But, Doctor, I will do anything to help and protect her. We were blessed to get her back—physically. Now we have to get her back mentally and emotionally, too.”

  * * *

  Claire finally fell asleep on the hard sofa. The room wasn’t really dark the way she liked it with the lighted movement on the monitors and the muted glow in the attached bathroom. After much agitation, Darcy was on her back, breathing in a regular pattern. It had to be long after midnight. Of course, as in every hospital where Claire had been, nurses came and went all the time, but at least they didn’t wake Darcy. But what were her dreams that made her so restless? Maybe that was what they had to find out—and then face.

  Claire shook her head at the thought that there were two of them here who needed help—the sister with the possible PTSD med in her and the one with the narcolepsy meds. What a pair, always had been. What would Mother have thought? But then she’d had her problems, too, and could have used tests and meds and counseling.

  She thought of Tara and Will. Nick had said he would tell them that Darcy had come back, but that she had some kind of amnesia. He promised to thank them for all their help and support and ask them not to talk to the media if they came calling one way or the other.

  She had also told Nick that she suspected Lexi’s horrible doll of perhaps spying on them, though they could hardly blame Nita and Bronco for giving it to them. Someone very clever—diabolical—must have seen Nita as a perfect, naive way to get that doll into their lives.

  “Someone must have set them up—set Darcy up—us, too,” Nick had said. “Someone who knows too much about us. So that pretty little doll violates US privacy laws? Damn, I’ll look into that, but first things first with Steve and the girls. You just take care of Darcy.”

  “What if that doll is kind of like a Trojan horse?” Claire had asked. “You know, we take it in because it’s such a gift, and Lexi needs it, but its insides are full of deceit—a trap. If we could just trace who set up Nita to ‘win’ that.”

  “But if I tell anyone—Ken, especially—and he takes the doll to tear into it...”

  “I know. I know,” she’d said, holding to him after the doctor had left. “Then Lexi might go off the deep end, too.”

  Darcy’s cry jolted Claire from that memory.

  “The fish doesn’t have much room to breathe!” she cried.

  Claire got up and bent over her. She was thrashing, murmuring. It was suddenly like she used to comfort Darcy after Daddy had left them, when Mother used to get so strange, sobbing at night, crying out like—like this. But Darcy was so young then...

  “It’s all right, Darcy. I’m here with you. Everything’s all right.”

  “It isn’t! There’s not much room, and that dolphin needs to come up for air. I do, too—a mask, a mask on my face. Not Halloween.”

  “No, it’s not Halloween. You don’t have a mask on your face now. It’s all right.”

  “People are floating. They can’t breathe in there. Stop it. I don’t want to die!”

  “You won’t. I’m here. You’re here with me now, and—”

  The door to the room opened. A shaft of light from the hall sliced across Darcy’s bed.

  “Her blood pressure...” the nurse who came said. “I’m not to sedate her, but—”

  “She’s all right,” Claire told the nurse. “Darcy, everything is all right now,” Claire crooned to quiet her. Amazingly, Darcy nodded and went almost instantly to sleep. The nurse took her pulse, reread the monitors and finally, with a nod, went out. But Claire heard her tell someone in the hall before the door closed, “The doctor was right. PTSD from something terrible that happened.”

  But, Claire thought, that memory—something horrible and haunting during her abduction—was buried deep. At least, thank God, Darcy wasn’t.

  25

  “I hate to sound like I’m giving medical advice,” Ken Jensen told Claire and Nick the next morning in the visitor’s room on Darcy’s floor at the hospital. “But I think it would be smart if you kept Darcy here where they can observe her for a while. They have excellent treatment and follow-up counseling once they have the diagnosis. They call this section the voluntary crisis stabilization unit, and I’d advise you to take advantage of that.”

  Claire was grateful that Nick pulled his chair tight to hers across the table from Jensen. At least, she told herself, Nick is here to help. She hadn’t wanted to face Jensen alone, even though he was back in civilian clothes, not the uniform that had suddenly seemed so formal and imposing.

  “Ken,” Nick said, “do you have any reason to believe Darcy would not be safe if she were to stay with us or at her own home?”

  “If you’re asking if we’ve figured out what really happened to her, where she’s been or with whom and why—no. But you have to admit she has a volatile husband at least.”

  Nick frowned. “Wouldn’t you be if your wife suddenly disappeared and didn’t show up for days?”

  Claire gently kneed Nick under the table. She wanted to explode at Ken, but they needed him on their side for more than one reason.

  “Yeah, I would,” Ken said with a sigh that seemed to deflate his rigid posture. “But I’d also trust the police. It’s not like we—and I—haven’t come through for you before.”

  Claire said, “Nick, I think Darcy could benefit from being here longer, even if I leave. I’ll come back and forth, maybe still sit in for her sessions. If it wasn’t for Lexi and Jilly, I’d stay another night, but the nurse came right in when she became distressed.”

  Ken turned to her again. “I have a detailed transcript from the
doctor, but you mentioned she said some things to you?”

  “From an apparent deep sleep last night, she started raving about a dolphin not having enough air to breathe. She also sounded panicked about herself wearing a mask. But it wasn’t Halloween, she said. She mentioned that there were people swimming but she could only see their faces.”

  “Weird,” Ken said. “Especially since we found Larry Ralston drowned and he had that whole dolphin business before his death.”

  “There’s also the butterfly-dolphin link,” Claire said, “that they both have the power of suspended animation. Darcy did say someone came to get the butterflies. I’ll bet it was the falcate orangetips. I asked her, but she can’t recall who it was. That was in the ambulance yesterday. If we could just find out who links those butterflies and the dolphins. And that—right, Nick?—has to be Lincoln Yost.”

  “I need to sweat him some,” Ken said. “You two just steer clear of him—out of my way. So, Nick, I see you’re not representing your brother-in-law. Can you tell me why?”

  “Obviously, not a good idea to have any conflict of interest figure in with judge and jurors, for starters. I have another case pending as soon as this damn approaching hurricane does its worst and the court system is up and running again. Besides, Claire and I have been through so much. Our first concern is our children, especially right now our daughter, Lexi, who was abducted two years ago. How’s that for a list?” Nick demanded, standing.

  Claire started to speak, but, rising to his feet also, Ken cut in. “You have a good reputation for wins, Counselor. Do you think representing Steve Stanley might disrupt that?”

  “You know better than to believe that—to even ask. Circumstantial evidence has turned out to mean nothing before. However distraught he has been, I’m confident Steve would never kill someone.”

  “Unless it was an accident. Look, Nick,” Ken said, holding up both hands like a traffic cop, “we both have to be on the side of the law, however hard that is sometimes. And that means I am on your and Claire’s side—Darcy and her husband, too—and I hope you realize that. Got to go, back to finding out where Darcy’s been, who drugged her up, not to mention special assignment plans for this approaching storm. I hope, after everything is settled, we can still be friends.”

  Ken thrust out his hand, and Nick shook it. Claire extended hers, too. It was as if they had made a three-way pact.

  When Nick said no more, Claire told Ken, “We’ll let you know if we hear or learn anything that could help. There have to be answers out there—and someone who took her, but why?”

  * * *

  Claire had decided to go home after sitting in on Darcy’s first therapy session. Darcy had offered nothing new, but had repeated about the dolphin swimming in a little space, about herself fearing she couldn’t breathe, although tests had shown she had no respiratory problems.

  Claire needed to spend time with Trey and the girls, especially since Steve had let Jilly stay at their house while he went home alone. Jace’s wife, Brit, was coming to pick Claire up at the hospital so Nick didn’t have to leave Lexi and Jilly again, since Nita had gone out to run some errands. Brit would then spend time with Jilly while Claire focused on Lexi, and tried to get that doll away from her.

  Brit had been busy helping the zoo staff batten down the hatches for the animals in case the hurricane hit here. It had taken a turn that could mean it would indeed make landfall nearby. But Brit couldn’t come until two, and Claire was starving, so she went down to the cafeteria.

  She had barely sat down to eat at a small table in front of a huge glass window when a man sat down beside her.

  She gasped. “Oh, Will! What are you doing here?”

  “Actually hoping I could get upstairs to see you or even Darcy, but that didn’t work out. Nick told me she was being treated here. He said she’s responding, but how is she doing right now?”

  “He was going to call Tara, too, since you have both been so great.”

  He reached out to cover her left wrist with his hand. He was trembling.

  “Claire, is she really all right? Nick said she was somewhat disturbed. What did he mean? Was she harmed?”

  “We don’t want any details made public. It’s enough the media has celebrated that she’s back safe and sound. At least they didn’t blast it far and wide that she’s in the psych ward for observation—just observation, Will,” she insisted, though that wasn’t quite true.

  “Safe, but not sound?”

  “She’s had some trauma. Can’t recall things.”

  “I was hoping she could. Any mention of who visited the butterfly house that day?”

  “No. Will, like us, you have to let the police do their duty. We are blessed she’s back.”

  “But to have her husband up for that murder... The poor girl.”

  “We haven’t told her that yet. Steve’s coming here tomorrow, so he’ll explain to her. Hopefully, the police will get Larry Ralston’s real killer, or she’ll be shattered again.”

  “I know you will take care of her. Jilly, too. If Steve should go AWOL, so to speak, don’t let him take Darcy’s daughter. As it stands now, the child, maybe Darcy, too, are better off with you than him. But someone must pay for whatever happened to her.”

  Claire nodded and sat there stunned at Will’s seething anger. He got up, squeezed her shoulder and walked out. It was heartwarming that Will cared that much, but was it too much?

  * * *

  At home that evening, Claire spent time with Trey while Brit regaled Lexi and Jilly with stories about the zoo animals. Nick and Claire put their son to bed, then Claire finally took Lexi off to her and Nick’s bedroom.

  Claire had insisted that the doll Cindy stay behind and listen to the zoo stories, which upset Lexi, but she had to get her alone without that eavesdropping little monster. Yet how to proceed, because the last thing she needed was for Lexi to implode. No, the last thing she needed was that thing spying on them more, if that was what had been going on. But could she gamble on telling her volatile little girl the truth?

  “Sweetheart,” Claire began, patting a place next to her on the recliner Nick sometimes liked to read in, “let’s sit here, just you and me, like in the good old days.”

  Still pouting, Lexi joined her but didn’t cuddle up, despite Claire putting her arm around her.

  “The good old days, like when?” the child challenged, and Claire almost burst into tears at the truth of that. Calm, normal times had been few. Even her marriage to Nick had been forced at first, and there had been one danger after the other. But now that they had Darcy back—at least, once they found out who had taken her and had them arrested and Darcy returned to normal...

  “The good new days are what I’m really interested in,” Claire said, trying to keep her voice steady and light. She forced a little smile. “Days when we just rely on each other and ourselves, not on pretend things, not on outsiders.”

  “Outsiders like my daddy, Jace? What about Brit? ’Cause she’s with Jilly.”

  “Of course your daddy isn’t an outsider. He is very special to you, and he is a friend to Dad Nick and to me. Our friends, like Brit and Kris, are not outsiders. Not Bronco and Nita, either, because they are almost like family and are for sure our friends. Heck, too. But, in a way, your doll is an outsider. You know what I learned about her?”

  “She is not! She knows all about me. We talk.”

  “But she isn’t a real person. I learned that dolls like her are connected to people who are sometimes not our friends and family. It really isn’t the doll talking but someone we don’t know talks through the doll.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, Lexi frowned up at Claire. “She is my friend. Nita is my friend, and she gave her to me.”

  “But Nita has no idea who gave the doll to her. I talked to Nita about that. She wanted you to have the doll, but she didn’t know that kind of doll is made to listen to everything a family and their friends say, then maybe tell a bad person what is g
oing on.”

  At least Lexi didn’t react at first. She could see her thinking. Please, God, let her have enough maturity and self-protective instincts to reason this out. Let me find the right words...

  “Is there some way to fix her?” Lexi asked. “Does she have a real brain or something?”

  “As pretty as she is, she’s like the voice on my cell phone. She listens, she can answer, give you information. But she’s also making a recording of everything you say. But then, what if a bad person who made her—who is kind of like on the other end of a phone listening—wants to find out what we’re saying? I think we could get your dad’s friend Heck over here to take a look at her insides—”

  “Like, cut into her?” Lexi demanded, and tears flew. “But she helps me, she likes to be part of our family and listen, she even tells me what to do!”

  Claire pulled Lexi close and, finally, the child reached out for her and held to her hard.

  “What kind of things does she tell you to do, sweetheart?”

  “Like, go close to you and Dad when you’re talking. Like where are you and Dad now? And she said don’t worry, because if I do what she says, someday Aunt Darcy will come home—and now she did, see?”

  Claire pulled Lexi onto her lap as if she were a baby. Indeed a monster in their midst, planted there, not by Nita but by someone diabolical, who knew entirely too much about them. Because of something in Nick’s law practice? To keep a close eye on their search for Darcy? But why? Why?

  26

  Nick held Claire tight in bed that night.

  “So I’ll get Heck here in the morning to take a look at the doll’s insides,” he promised. “I know you won’t like it, but he said not to tamper with the batteries or anything so we don’t let on to whoever’s watching that we know what’s going on.”