The Ghost and the Doppelganger

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “I hope Kelly doesn’t read too much into this. She gets a little sensitive when Joe tries to interject himself into my life.”

  Thirty-Eight

  On Sunday morning Lily walked over to Marlow House, entering through the side yard. Danielle hadn’t shut the gate, yet she had locked the kitchen door. Lily didn’t need to use her key. Danielle was just pouring herself a cup of coffee when she glanced out the kitchen window and spied Lily walking up to the house.

  “Morning,” Danielle greeted her as she opened the kitchen door.

  “Have you heard anything?” Lily walked into the house and closed the door behind her. She helped herself to a cup of coffee and joined Danielle at the kitchen table.

  “I spoke to the chief about fifteen minutes ago. He called the hospital for me and talked to someone he knows. He still hasn’t woken up, and they’re planning to move him out of the ICU this morning.”

  “Move him where?” Lily asked.

  Danielle shook her head. “To another room temporarily. I guess he doesn’t need to be in the ICU…and from what the chief says, they’re looking for another place for him.”

  “Like a care facility?” Lily frowned.

  “But this gets worse. Remember how I told you Stephanie’s dad showed up?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “According to the chief, Stephanie’s father wants to take responsibility for Clint and is trying to have him transported to a care facility in Texas.”

  “What? It’s not even Clint!” Lily gasped.

  “We don’t really know who’s in that hospital bed now. I thought it was bad enough that I couldn’t get in to see him—but what if Stephanie’s father manages to have him moved to Texas?”

  “Can he do that? He’s not even a family member.”

  Danielle shrugged. “The chief doesn’t think so, not without some sort of power of attorney, since he isn’t related to Clint. But we have no idea if maybe Clint gave him a power of attorney. After all, Clint doesn’t have family, and he was crazy about Stephanie, and they were planning to get married. Maybe he considered her family his family.”

  Lily groaned and shook her head. “Why isn’t Eva or Marie down at the hospital keeping an eye on him for you?”

  “Because those two just took off after Walt did—and I haven’t seen them since. I swear, you can never find a darn ghost when you need one!” Danielle grumbled.

  “I’m sorry, Dani. But hopefully Stephanie’s father won’t be able to move Walt.”

  “If it is Walt, Lily.”

  “You need to stop being so pessimistic about this,” Lily insisted.

  Danielle fiddled with her coffee cup a moment and chewed her lower lip, silently considering Lily’s statement. With a grimace, she finally looked up into her friend’s face and said, “I know you’re right. But it’s so important to me, and I’m afraid. I’m so afraid, Lily.”

  The ICU nurse was just checking the comatose patient’s vitals when she heard him moan. Startled, she leaned closer to the man, her face now just a few inches from his, and whispered urgently, “Mr. Marlow, can you hear me? Mr. Marlow?”

  With great effort, the man turned his head on the pillow, now facing the insistent voice beckoning him. His eyes fluttered open, revealing vivid blue eyes. He blinked several times, licked his lips as if parched, and mumbled, “Where am I?”

  The nurse began to cry, tears running down her face. “You are at the Frederickport Hospital, and I’m so happy you’re awake!”

  “Welcome back, Mr. Marlow,” the doctor said cheerfully, clipboard in hand. He stood at the bedside; a few feet away was the nurse, listening.

  “How long have I been here?” the patient asked, his voice raspy.

  The doctor glanced at the chart in his hand. “Four nights now. Can you tell me what you remember? Let’s start with your name.” The doctor smiled patiently.

  “My name? Didn’t you just call me Mr. Marlow?”

  “I guess that’s cheating a bit.” The doctor chuckled good-naturedly. “How about you tell me your full name.”

  “My full name?” The man, still leaning back on the pillows, turned his head from side to side. “I don’t know.”

  “Would you have remembered your last name if I hadn’t said it?” the doctor asked.

  “Is that my last name? Marlow?”

  The doctor exchanged glances with the nurse and then looked back down at the patient. “Your full name is Walter Clint Marlow. Does that sound familiar to you?”

  The man frowned. “I don’t feel like a Walter.”

  “It’s because you don’t go by your first name,” a voice said from the doorway. Both the nurse and the doctor turned to the newcomer.

  “Mr. Mountifield, would you please stay out in the waiting room until I come for you?” the doctor asked.

  Ignoring the doctor’s request, Barry walked into the room and headed straight for the bed.

  “But I can help.” He looked at the patient. “Your name is Walter Clint Marlow, but you’ve always gone by your middle name. That’s why you don’t feel like a Walter.”

  The man in the bed stared at Barry for a moment and frowned. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Stephanie’s father, remember?”

  “Mr. Mountifield, please, you really need to leave,” the doctor insisted.

  Without having to be told, the nurse hurried to Barry’s side, took him by the arm, and gently ushered him from the room.

  “I just wanted to help,” Barry told her once he was back by the nurses’ station.

  “I understand that, Mr. Mountifield, but Mr. Marlow is in a fragile state. He doesn’t remember anything right now.”

  “I’m sure he’ll remember Stephanie!” he insisted.

  “Yes, but he’s just come out of his coma, and I don’t think he’s ready to deal with the loss of his fiancée. You may be able to get him to remember her, but do you really want to tell him in the next breath that she’s gone? He needs time to adjust before he has to deal with the reality of what’s happened to him. The poor man hasn’t even been conscious for thirty minutes!”

  Barry let out a sigh and nodded. “I see what you mean. Clint was absolutely crazy for my daughter. I could see it in how he looked at her. What now? What’s going to happen to him?”

  “We’re still moving him to another room, out of the ICU, temporarily. But now that he’s awake, he can decide where he wants to go when he leaves the hospital.”

  “How can he do that? He doesn’t even know his name?”

  The nurse patted his arm gently. “Let’s give the man time, shall we?”

  Danielle had put the word out to all her fellow mediums: if you see Eva or Marie, tell them to come to Marlow House immediately. She was sitting on the front porch swing, with Max by her side, when Chief MacDonald pulled up to the house. He wasn’t in his squad car; it was Sunday, and she knew he had the day off. Eddie and Evan weren’t with him.

  “He’s come out of the coma,” the chief announced after he parked his car and walked up to Danielle.

  She bolted out of the swing, leaving it swaying and dislodging Max, who jumped down, disgusted by her abrupt movement.

  “Where is he?” Danielle asked MacDonald while Max wandered off to the side of the house and disappeared into the backyard.

  “They moved him to another room. But they aren’t letting him have any visitors right now aside from Stephanie’s father. I guess he was there when he woke up.”

  “And? Did he say anything?”

  “Like what? I’m Walt not Clint?”

  “Of course not. But did he say anything? He must have said something.”

  In a solemn voice, MacDonald said, “He doesn’t remember anything. He didn’t know his name.”

  Danielle frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Unless he’s not telling the truth, which is possible considering the circumstances.” MacDonald sat down on the swing and Danielle joined him. “Apparently, after he woke up, one of the first
questions the doctor asked him was his name. He didn’t know who he was.”

  “When are they going to let him have visitors?”

  The chief shook his head. “I don’t know. Is it possible that it could be Walt, and he really doesn’t know who he is?”

  Danielle leaned back and looked out in the distance, seeing only her own thoughts. “I honestly don’t know. I’d ask Eva, but she isn’t here. I haven’t seen her or Marie since Walt left. If I could clobber a ghost, I would.”

  The chief reached out and gave Danielle’s denim-clad knee a pat. “On the upside, I don’t think we have to worry about Stephanie’s father moving Walt to Texas.”

  “Are you certain he still can’t have visitors?” Danielle asked.

  “That’s what they told me.”

  Danielle shook her head. “Then if it is Walt, he really has amnesia.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked.

  “If they’ve moved him to a regular hospital room, they don’t typically restrict visitors unless the patient says he doesn’t want to see anyone. I don’t see Walt requesting that, because then it makes it more difficult for me to get in there.”

  “I’ll try to get in to see him. If I have to, I’ll claim it’s official business. I’m sure I can make up something; I’ve been hanging around you long enough,” the chief said.

  “Can I get you anything, Mr. Marlow?” the nurse asked after settling the patient in his new hospital room.

  “No, thank you,” he said politely, now sitting up in the hospital bed and glancing around the room. With the cast on his leg, it would be difficult to get out of bed without assistance.

  “Do you think you’re up to having company?” she asked. “There’s someone in the waiting room who wants to see you.”

  “That’s fine. It’s better than just sitting here alone.”

  About ten minutes after the nurse left the room, his visitor arrived.

  “It’s you?” the patient said.

  Hesitantly, the visitor walked to his bedside and smiled down at him. “I’m Barry Mountifield.”

  “Yes. I know who you are. You’re Stephanie’s father.”

  The man brightened. “You remember? You remember Stephanie?”

  He shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t. But you told me earlier you were her father. I heard one of the nurses talking; she said your daughter was killed in the accident I was in. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

  Barry frowned at his would-be son-in-law. “She was your fiancée. You were in love with her.”

  Again the man shook his head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t remember.”

  “You need to remember her. I don’t want you to forget Stephanie.”

  The man smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I eventually will. At least—I hope I do. It’s strange not to remember anything—not even my name.”

  With a sigh, Barry pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

  “Maybe you can tell me about Stephanie. What was she like?”

  “She was the most adorable little girl—beautiful woman…” Tears glistened in Barry’s eyes.

  “You two were close?” he asked.

  Barry sighed sadly. “We used to be. I’m afraid we weren’t as close these last few years.”

  “I hope it wasn’t anything I did.”

  “No.” Barry shook his head. “I think you were good for her.”

  The patient leaned back against the pillows and silently listened as Barry told him all about his beloved daughter.

  Thirty-Nine

  Chief MacDonald walked into Pier Café on Sunday afternoon and glanced around. He spied Ian sitting alone in a back booth. Without pause, he made his way to him.

  “Hey, Chief,” Ian greeted when MacDonald reached his booth and started to sit down.

  “Thanks for meeting me here,” the chief said.

  “No problem. Where are your boys?” Ian opened the menu he had been holding.

  “Their mother’s parents are here for the weekend. They wanted the boys to stay with them for spring break, but since that side trip of ours to Seligman, they don’t like staying away from home for more than one night.” MacDonald picked up a menu from the end of the table. “So I invited their grandparents here for the weekend. I had to work yesterday anyway.”

  “Poor kids.” Ian shook his head, remembering how stressful it had been for all their loved ones during the hijacking. It had been young Evan’s tenacity and his ability to see ghosts that had ultimately saved them all.

  “I suppose you heard Walt—or Clint—or whoever it is over there—has come out of the coma.”

  Ian let out a snort and shook his head. He looked up at the chief. “How do you get used to this?”

  The chief frowned. “Used to what?”

  “I thought it was a stretch to believe Lily about ghosts—but this thing with Walt and Clint—that thing with Tagg and Kent.” Ian cringed at the idea.

  “I guess nothing really surprises me anymore.” The chief shrugged.

  They were interrupted when Carla walked up to the table, her now pink hair streaked with purple, reminding Ian of an Easter egg, which seemed fitting for the season.

  “Hey, guys, what can I get you?”

  “The cheeseburger combo,” the chief told her, tossing the menu to the end of the table.

  “Same here. But no fries,” Ian told her.

  “Then it’s not a combo,” Carla mumbled as she scribbled their order on a pad of paper. She then paused and looked to them. “Hey, I heard from a friend of mine that that Marlow guy woke up from the coma, but he doesn’t know who he is.”

  “Word travels fast,” the chief grumbled.

  “The guy is super hot,” Carla went on. “Blue eyes to die for. But kind of a jerk.”

  “I sort of feel sorry for Walt if this works,” MacDonald said after Carla took their drink orders and walked away. “His cousin didn’t leave a great impression.”

  “No, he didn’t. So what did you want to talk to me about?” Ian asked.

  “Where’s Lily? Does she know you’re meeting me?”

  Ian shook his head. “No. She thinks I’m at home, working. She took Sadie over to Marlow House to keep Danielle company. It’s driving Danielle crazy not to be able to go to the hospital.”

  “They’re not restricting his visitors anymore. Apparently he told the nurses he would like to have visitors, said it might help him to start remembering. So she could see him.”

  “Does Danielle know this?”

  The chief shook his head. “Not yet. She knew I was going to try to get in to see him. I called the hospital to find out what room he’s in; that’s when I found out they aren’t restricting his visitors anymore. I know I should tell Danielle so she could go down there, but I wanted to see him first. I’m a little concerned for her. What if Clint did change his mind and that’s not Walt? If Danielle isn’t sure it isn’t Walt, you know she’ll invite him back to Marlow House.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Joe.”

  MacDonald arched his brows. “You heard about that?”

  “From Kelly. I guess Joe came home last night ranting about how Danielle is probably going to invite Clint to stay with her.”

  “What did Kelly think about it all?”

  “Aside from not being thrilled her boyfriend gets a little too involved in what Danielle does in her personal life—she actually agreed with him. She wasn’t happy it bothered Joe, but she shares his opinion that Danielle seems to make poor life choices.”

  MacDonald sighed. “I suppose from their perspective it looks that way. And it’s not that I think Danielle is a pushover, but in this case I think she’s vulnerable. Not that I’m going to try to stop her from seeing him. But I’d at least like to see him first and then prepare her—warn her if necessary.”

  “So why did you want to see me?” Ian asked.

  MacDonald shrugged and said, “I suppose for moral support. I do
n’t want both Lily and Danielle jumping all over me when they find out Danielle could have seen him this afternoon.”

  “You keep saying him.”

  “Because I don’t know what to call him. I don’t know if it’s Walt or Clint—and that’s the problem.”

  “Or that other guy Eva told them about,” Ian suggested. “The one who died during surgery.”

  MacDonald cringed. “Oh please, I don’t even want to consider that scenario.”

  When Chief MacDonald arrived at the door to Clint Marlow’s hospital room, he heard voices inside—two men’s voices. He recognized them both. One was Clint’s, and the other was Barry Mountifield’s. Instead of going into the room, he remained in the hallway, listening.

  “I appreciate the offer, Barry,” MacDonald heard Clint say—or is it Walt?

  “You are more than welcome to come, stay as long as you need. It’s going to be hard getting around with that cast, and you’re not up to looking for a place to stay—or going back to work.”

  “If I was planning a trip to Paris, I’m sure I have some money somewhere that will allow me to rent a room while I get back on both my feet again. And while I appreciate the offer, I would rather stay on the west coast. It seems that’s where I’m from. If I want to get my memory back, I need to be near familiar surroundings.”

  “Does this mean you’re going back to California?” Barry asked.

  “I suspect I may eventually do that. I’m just going to play it by ear for now.”

  “I want you to know, if you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Thank you, Barry. I appreciate that. I’m sorry I’m not going to be able to make Stephanie’s service. I know I don’t remember her, but it doesn’t seem right that I miss it.”

  “I understand.”

  MacDonald got the feeling Mountifield was preparing to leave, and he didn’t want to be caught listening at the door, so he cleared his throat and walked into the hospital room. Upon his entrance, both men looked in his direction.

  “Chief MacDonald,” Barry greeted him, “I was just saying goodbye to Clint.”