Mind Games

by M. J. Labeff

  * * *

  Derrick wasn’t sure when they’d finally drifted off to sleep. Early morning light spilled into her bedroom, shrouding them in a haze of dim gray. The day crept in and infected their happiness.

  His arm was draped across her, and she snuggled closer against him. The warmth of her body pressing against him would have stirred instant arousal, but they were only hours away about learning the truth about her visions. Derrick wasn’t convinced her feelings for him wouldn’t change when he pressed charges against her father. From the minute he’d started looking into Dr. Theodore Von Langley’s therapy methods, uneasiness that wouldn’t go away had settled in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t shake the feeling this morning, either. He couldn’t make love to her again, not now, anyway. Not knowing how she truly felt about him. About them.

  Derrick had never cared for another woman the way he cared for Sparrow. From the moment she started volunteering at the Mobile Health Clinic RV, he hadn’t hesitated to ask her out, and eventually found he wanted her around more and more. He wanted her in his life. Damn, he hated this situation with her father. He cared about her and worried about how all of this would affect her. If she didn’t want to see him, he’d regretfully accept her decision, but he hoped somehow they could remain in each other lives. He felt the F-word coming on, but after last night he didn’t know if he could just be her friend.

  He allowed his eyes one final glance at her body. The subtle rise and fall of her peaches tempted him to rip the sheet from her body so his eyes could feast on her again, and his mouth could suckle strength from her nectar. Her legs parted, one hooked behind his, the other jutting out from the mattress, revealing toenails painted pink like cotton candy. His traitorous libido woke, and he wanted to sheathe himself in the slice of pink heaven between her legs.

  He released a soft growl, knowing he couldn’t take her. Not now. Not with so many unanswered questions about his sister’s death and her father’s possible role in it.

  Her body fit perfectly against his. Derrick inched away. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Finally, he got out of her bed. Before he did something they both might regret. He picked up his jeans hanging over the back of the chair then reached into her closet for his shirt. He carried the armful into the bathroom, dropping them onto the counter. She stirred, but before he could confirm if she was awake, he shut and locked the door. It was for her own good. If she came into the bathroom, one look into her satisfied, sultry green eyes would lure him back into her bed.

  Quickly he showered. Everything in the small bathroom smelled of her, and the scent increased with the thick steam from the shower. Thinking about her and the multiple times they had made love last night had him craving one last taste of her. He turned the handle on the shower until it rained ice cold over him. The sound of the door handle turning caught his attention. He pushed the handle down and stopped his frigid shower. Next came the soft knocking.

  “Derrick, I hope that’s you in there.”

  “It’s me. I’ll be right out.”

  He dried the chills from his cold skin and forced his damp legs into the denim. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Droplets of water clung to his bare chest. Sparrow reached in and fanned the moisture away. Her sultry, satisfied eyes looked up at him, ready for action.

  “I didn’t mean to rush you.”

  “You didn’t. I wanted to give you more time to sleep, and now you’ll have the bathroom to yourself. Why don’t I fix us breakfast?”

  The saucy look on her face evaporated like the shower residue on his skin. “I get the feeling you’re trying to avoid me.” Her hands rested against her hips, pulling the silk fabric of her robe apart, exposing her breasts. His groin tightened, making his jeans small and uncomfortable. He spread his legs apart, making room for his untimely erection. It didn’t help. He stepped side to side, trying to make unnoticeable adjustments.

  “I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t want to throw you down on the bed and make love to you. Right now. But I think we need clear heads this morning.”

  “What did I tell you about thinking for us?”

  He groaned. “Why don’t I just go fix us breakfast?”

  She blocked the doorway with her petite frame, pressing her hands against the door’s molding. “Um, excuse me?” She didn’t move. He wasn’t sure what to do.

  “What if I don’t want breakfast?”

  “Baby, please, we’ve got a tough morning ahead of us.”

  She looked down at his obvious desire and smiled up at him. “Well, at least I know you’re as attracted to me as I am to you. But please, stop anticipating my needs.” She stepped out of his way.

  He reached behind the bathroom door and took down his shirt he’d hung on the hook and then walked past her, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and down onto the bed. He put on his shirt and busied himself with the buttons, hoping she’d go into the bathroom and shut him out.

  He wasn’t going to argue with her about doing what he thought was in both of their best interests. She’d made her point. However, he worried about her denial. She had ferociously defended her father to him. She might have expressed a change of heart, confiding in him she would do the right thing because she’d have no choice, but that wasn’t necessarily true. She could support her father and provide him with the best defense money could buy.

  The law held many loopholes. He could practically hear the defense attorney vehemently stating there were no live witnesses to testify and that psychiatry isn’t an exact science, with experimental treatments and drugs adjusted to fit an individual patient’s needs, and that not everyone responded the same to treatment or dosage. His heart started to race. If Dr. Von Langley had anything to do with his sister Katie’s demise, Derrick would stop at nothing to protect another innocent kid.

  Derrick worried that after the meeting this morning with the hypnotherapist the severity of their opposing situations would sink in for her. He wondered if she could sustain a relationship with a man who exposed her father as a fraud. Worse yet, if there were no living witnesses, would Sparrow’s repressed memory serve as testimony enough to convict her father?

  Chapter 27

  Sparrow pulled open the door to what looked more like a beach bungalow and less like the brick and mortar building she’d expected to arrive at for her appointment with Violet Crosby, hypnotherapist, as indicated on her shingle. She was greeted with sounds from the sea, rolling ocean waves intermittently interrupted by a flock of seagulls cooing in the breeze.

  A large rock wall covered in dark green moss to the left of the door featured inlets of gently running water. The magnificent wall was like a giant trickling fountain. Once the door closed behind Derrick, Sparrow noticed the ocean sounds ceased, replaced by the soothing sounds of the cascading waterfalls spilling down the impressive rock wall. Something about the rushing water over the shiny, slippery-looking rocks made it difficult to resist touching.

  Her eyes scanned the water wall from top to bottom then took in the rest of the space, including the lily pad crafted chairs growing from the floor. They reminded Sparrow of those self-propelled metal animals, bobbing on thick spiral coils, that she had climbed up on in the park when she was a kid to rock back and forth. Surely these were for children, but they looked big enough for adults.

  She turned from the lily pads to examine the rest of the waiting room. A swing hung from the ceiling to the floor. The beautiful chair would accommodate an adult, but Sparrow guessed it had been built for a child, perhaps to put his mind at ease before seeing the hypnotherapist.

  She craned her head around and took in the rest. She surmised Violet Crosby didn’t pack her waiting room with clients, since there were only four large reclining chairs filling the space. She sank down into a buttery leather chair and stared at the lavender wall in front of her painted with bright yellow daffodils and dark green leaves.

  Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped open when the chair began to
massage her back. A series of slowly rolling balls squeezed along her spinal column. She relaxed into the chair, resting her head against the thick pillow kneading her neck. This was fabulous. Lavender permeated the air. A nice touch to the already tranquil atmosphere made possible by the colors and sounds.

  She glanced over at Derrick, who was fixated on the giant fountain wall. His hands tested out the lily pad chairs, rocking them back and forth. She wondered if he’d actually sit in one.

  The end table next to her had a basket filled with colorful stress balls. A small sign in front said, “Take One.” She reached in for a bright neon-pink one and squeezed the gelatinous mass. Normally, she wouldn’t go for this sort of thing, preferring yoga and meditation to ease her, but the squishing sensation of the gooey ball quickly became addictive. She watched the bubbled rubber ooze between her fingers. Enthralled with the stress ball, she hadn’t noticed Derrick looking over at her.

  “I think you’ve found a new toy.”

  She dropped the stress ball into her lap and reached into the clear glass bowl filled with hard candy on the coffee table in front of her.

  “You should talk. I saw the way you were eyeing those giant lily pads.”

  Lemon drops, strawberry-filled centers, root beer barrels—she wanted one of each, but she carefully selected butterscotch. She twisted off the golden wrapper and popped the candy into her mouth.

  “Mmm. You should try one of these.” She flipped the round candy disc around the inside her mouth, caressing it with her tongue. “Delicious.”

  Yet another one of Violet Crosby’s ploys to calm her nerves, but she had to admit it was working. Sparrow recognized the aesthetic techniques used to employ the five senses and lure a person to serenity. She wasn’t complaining. Derrick took a seat in the massage chair next to her and reached over to hold her hand.

  “Couples massage?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She eased back into the massage chair, hoping it’d be a few more minutes until Violet called her in. It hadn’t dawned on her until now, but the waiting room lacked a receptionist. And why hadn’t Violet or someone come out to greet them? She ran her shoulder blades around the gliding balls and decided she didn’t care to ponder the questions. She closed her eyes and sighed around the buttery piece of candy slowing dissolving in her mouth. She was so relaxed. She didn’t have the urge to chomp down on the sugary disc.

  The unharmonious sound of bells startled her from peace, and there standing halfway in the room was Violet Crosby. Sparrow recognized her from the photo on her website that illustrated a woman with wildly flowing dark brown locks streaked with strands of natural gray, striking grayish-purple eyes—hence the name Violet, she assumed—and gypsy clothes. Today she had on a long hunter-green broom skirt and white poet blouse with dozens of necklaces strung around her neck. Sparrow’s jolted nerves eased when she realized the chiming noise emitted from Violet and the metallic bobbles dancing against her blouse. She loosened her grip on Derrick’s hand.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve startled you. I’m Violet. You must be Sparrow.” She opened her arms in a welcoming manner. She had a calm demeanor and thoughtful, observant eyes. “No, no. Don’t get up—sit back and relax. I seem to have disturbed you. Take a few minutes to center yourself again.”

  “Oh, all right. You have a terrific waiting room.” Sparrow liked that Violet asked her to center herself. She often told her yoga students to do the same thing. “This is my…”

  Derrick stood up and extended his hand to Violet. “I’m her boyfriend. Dr. Derrick Sloan. I hope it’s all right that I’ve come with her.”

  “As long as Sparrow wants you here, you are welcome.” She cupped her hands around his.

  “I asked him to come. My visions concern him.”

  Violet released Derrick’s hand and gestured for him to have a seat. “I see. Do you want him to sit in on our session, then?”

  “Yes.”

  Violet directed her attention to Derrick. “Dr. Sloan.”

  “Please call me Derrick.”

  “Derrick, are you also her medical doctor?”

  “I recently gave her a physical exam.”

  Sparrow twisted in the chair. “I don’t remember any of this, but Derrick found me standing at the shore staring out at the ocean. I told him I’d seen a dead girl. That’s when he insisted on a physical. He took my blood pressure, checked my ears and throat, heart rate. Well, he can tell you.”

  “She’s pretty much covered it. I also examined her for any bruises because I was afraid she might have been attacked and was suffering from shock.”

  Violet smiled between them. “He cares a great deal for you.” She directed her comment to Sparrow, who smiled and nodded in agreement.

  “Since then I’ve had more visions of this girl. Derrick thinks I’ve got a repressed memory and suggested I see a hypnotherapist. Some other stuff has happened and, well, that’s when I decided to contact you.”

  “And how does this relate to Derrick?”

  Sparrow dropped her head to her chest and took a few cleansing breaths. Derrick’s hand covered hers, offering her strength. “There’s a possibility the girl in my vision is his sister Katie, who ran away from home over ten years ago.”

  “I see.” Violet sat down in the swing chair, planting her low-heeled-boot-covered feet firmly against the floor. She clasped her ring-clad fingers together. “You have no recollection of ever having known his sister?”

  Sparrow shook her head. “We believe it could be her because in my vision she held up a charm bracelet—that’s why when I heard you come in, the sound of your jewelry scared me half to death. I thought I’d open my eyes and have another vision. Anyway, I found a charm bracelet in my jewelry box, and after showing it to Derrick he said it belonged to his sister.”

  “I see. Sparrow, are you on any medications?”

  “No.”

  “And according to Dr. Sloan you’re in good health, so if you’re ready, we’ll continue our session.” She reached up and turned one of the rocks on the wall. A faint click announced she’d locked the front door. “Have you ever tried hypnosis before?”

  “No. I practice yoga and intense meditation, though, so I think I’ll go willingly.” A nervous laugh rose up from her.

  “Interesting. I assume those practices help relax you. From what you’ve told me, you could be suffering from a traumatic past event that you’ve hidden in your memory. In a relaxed state it’s possible the event is trying to reveal itself. When you had the vision, what were you doing?”

  Sparrow swallowed around the buttery residue forming in the back of her throat. “Yoga and a simple Om. I was lying in corpse pose flat on my back.” She closed her eyes and turned her palms up then pinched her index fingers to her thumbs and repeated the mantra for Violet. “Aoom-Mani-Padmay-Hoom, Aoom-Mani-Padmay-Hoom, Aoom-Mani-Padmay-Hoom.” She paused. “It’s a simple mantra.”

  “Since you’re familiar with relaxation techniques, I’m going to help you get into a relaxed state through hypnosis, and when I do I’m going to take you back to the night you were on the beach.”

  Derrick leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here.”

  “Sparrow, I want you to close your eyes and visualize yourself lying flat on your back. You’re surrounded by blue. Imagine the ocean waves helping you drift off. Are you at the beach?” The tone of Violet’s voice turned soft, almost musical.

  “Yes.”

  “Is Katie with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know it’s Katie?”

  “Because she’s wearing my charm bracelet, and I’m wearing hers. See?” Sparrow lifted her arm and unconsciously shook her empty wrist.

  “What are you doing at the beach?”

  “We’re running away from him.”

  “Is someone chasing you?”

  “No. No. No. No. Come on, Katie, we have to go back. She’s writing our names in the sand, Spare and Kat. We have to
go. I don’t want to run away. I’m scared. She won’t leave. She keeps telling me she can’t go back. Oh, no, he’s here. He must’ve followed us.”

  “Who? Sparrow, who is with you on the beach?”

  Sparrow shook her head. “Daddy, we’ll be good. I told her we had to go back. ‘Go to the car. I’ll deal with her.’” Sparrow’s voice broke into a deep, menacing tone. “But Daddy… ‘Go!’” Her voice fluctuated between the baritone used to imitate her father and her own childish tone.

  Several shocked gasps escaped from her gaping mouth. “Daddy,” she whispered. “Don’t hurt my sister. He’s watching her drown. He won’t save her. Daddy, you know what you must do.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Sparrow, are you in the car?”

  She shook her head.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m hiding behind a big tree, watching,” she whispered. “He’s yelling at her, if she leaves with us, he’ll kill her. I know he will. He keeps telling her to go into the water. I can’t quiet my head, Ommmmm, Ommmmm, mmmmmm. It’s worse if she comes home with me. You know what you must do, Ommmm, mmmm, mm, you know what you must do.” More tears ran down Sparrow’s face. “He’ll hurt her worse than the water. I don’t want her to drown, but I’m more afraid of what he’ll do to her.”

  “What is your father doing?”

  “He’s following her into the water. She keeps walking backward, going deeper and deeper. The water is up to her shoulders. I can’t see her face anymore. She should stay under the water. She’s good at holding her breath. Maybe she can come out when we’re gone. He won’t help her. I can’t help her. He’ll hurt me too. I have to be quiet and small. I have to find the darkness.”