The Forgotten

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by Tamara Thorne


  46

  “Please sit down, Mickey.” Will had to exert all his willpower not to react to the sight of his brother’s lackey entering his office.

  The little man in the silver hat nodded nervously and chose to perch himself on the edge of the chair opposite Will. “Th-thanks.”

  “Would you like some coffee? Water?”

  “Water, please.”

  “Just a second.” Will left Mickey in the office and walked up to reception, filled a cup with bottled water. “Kevin,” he said softly.

  His assistant left his chair facing the waiting room and walked back to Will. “Yes?”

  “Did you mean to send me Mr. Elfbones?”

  “Yes. He was a phone-in. Oh. I didn’t give you the sheet, did I?”

  “No.”

  Kevin snatched it up and handed it over. Will scanned it quickly, glad to see Mickey didn’t want Pete to know he was here. “Thanks. If you’re going to read these before giving them to me, try not to let me know about it. I wouldn’t want to have to tell you not to do it.”

  “Sorry, boss.” Kevin’s apology trailed behind Will, who hurried back to Mickey. Time was far too limited to waste today.

  “Here you go.” Will handed Mickey the cup.

  The man sipped gratefully, hands trembling. “Th-thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” The stutter was new, Will thought. The result of terror. “Nothing leaves this room,” he told his patient.

  “I wasn’t going to take anything.”

  “No, I’m sorry, Mickey, that’s not what I meant. I take it from your chart that you don’t want your boss—my brother—to have any idea that you’ve been here.”

  “No. He’d kill me.” His eyes flickered under the hat. “I mean, he wouldn’t like it. I mean—”

  “I understand completely. You don’t need to worry. Everything you say is confidential.”

  “If someone, like a patient, tells him they saw me here, can I tell him I was fixing the cable?”

  “Of course.”

  Mickey exhaled noisily and relaxed slightly. “Great. Will, I need help.”

  “You didn’t put the problem on your patient sheet,” Will said, smoothly ignoring the foil hat. “What can I help you with?” He sat back, waiting to hear about the voices.

  Mickey surprised him. “I’m afraid of animals. I always have been. I mean, I’m not crazy, there’s a reason. Do you remember my father’s dogs?”

  “Yes, vaguely. Big brutes.”

  Mickey smiled for an instant. “Your assistant said we only get twenty minutes, so long story short, those dogs are why I’m afraid of them.”

  “I understand. Go on.”

  “I was scared shitless of your cat.”

  “Fear of cats isn’t uncommon.”

  “I don’t know why cats and just about everything else scares me. It seems like it should just be dogs.”

  “Not necessarily. We can talk about that more in the future if you want to. Tell me why you’ve decided to come here about this now.” Will was dying to know how the foil hat fit in, but he knew better than to ask.

  “It’s worse than usual. I’m afraid of getting fired if Pete finds out. I couldn’t even get past this little tail-wagging wiener dog yesterday. It was littler than your cat and it was friendly, I could see that, but I stood out there like an idiot and yelled until the lady came out and got her dog.”

  They talked for a few minutes, then Will called in prescriptions for Paxil and Xanax; the Xanax would help him until the SSRI kicked in. Normally, he would have had Kevin do it, but Mickey was still very antsy. Will thought it best to do it himself instead of writing anything down. Mickey appeared pleased.

  “Tell me about the hat,” Will said afterward.

  “Oh, it’s just a thing my friend’s kid made for me.”

  “Does it do anything?”

  “Uh, what do you mean?”

  “Nothing. It just looks like it’s supposed to do something. It’s sort of futuristic.”

  “Yeah, I guess maybe it’s a radio hat or a robot hat or something.”

  Will stood up. He knew that while the animal phobia was very real, it was the hat that made him come. Mickey would talk about it when he was ready. From the looks of him, Will hoped it wouldn’t be long. If he was hearing voices, he needed a different type of drug, but it couldn’t be prescribed until he confirmed Will’s suspicions. Poor guy. “Mickey, make an appointment for two weeks from now when you leave. By then, we should be seeing some results from the Paxil.”

  He walked Mickey out to reception, where Kevin remembered to hand him the chart for the next patient. Will took it and a fresh cup of coffee back to his office. He read over his notes, but his mind was on Pete. He couldn’t help wondering just how many of Mickey’s problems had to do with a lifetime spent kissing a bully’s ass. You’re not being objective. But he was. He realized that Pete probably wasn’t Mickey’s big problem—even Pete couldn’t cause what might turn out to be paranoid schizophrenia. But it was fun to blame him, for a moment, at least.

  47

  Maggie returned to the half moon cove at the Crescent at lunch time, to see how the rescue effort was going. It had taken two hours this morning for a rescue group from San Luis Obpispo to arrive, but when they finally did, Maggie was relieved to see Lily Johnson heading the group. Lily wasn’t somebody Maggie wanted to socialize with—the very thought made her cringe—but the humorless marine biologist, a professor at Cal Poly SLO, was a tough act to follow. All Lily cared about was contained in the ocean, and she and her grad students had set to work immediately.

  Now Maggie, carrying a bottle of water and a bag containing an egg salad sandwich, rounded the outcropping and entered the little cove, hoping to find Lily and talk to her. Instead, she found Pete Banning. So much for my appetite.

  “Well, hello there, Maggie,” he said heartily. He bared big white teeth in a bone-crunching grin. “You just missed your friends. They said you found the seals.”

  “You saw the seals?”

  “Briefly. They took them away. Said they were going to watch them a few days to make sure they weren’t sick, then release them. The woman in charge said she’d be in touch.”

  “She gave you a message for me?” Maggie’s annoyance grew.

  He laughed. “No, I guess not. She just mentioned it. I said I knew you.”

  “Why would I even be mentioned in the first place?”

  “I asked how they found the seals.” He looked at the bag. “Having lunch alone today?”

  She ignored the question and started to turn. “See you later.”

  “Wait.”

  “Why?”

  “We haven’t talked in ages. Years. How are you?”

  “We have nothing to talk about.” Anger welled inside her. This man—this creature—had tried to rape her when she was twelve years old. He was sixteen. She was home alone at the time, expecting Will. They were planning on going to the school to shoot some hoops.

  When she heard the familiar knock on the door, she’d called, “It’s open,” without leaving the kitchen where she was finishing washing breakfast dishes. When he’d come up behind her and put his hands on her hips, she felt a little thrill because she still thought he was Will.

  But the bastard had copied his knock. Without saying anything, he nuzzled her neck and the feel of his breath, the touch of his lips, aroused her pubescent hormones. She felt delightfully naughty, wonderfully pleased. “Will, what are you doing?”

  He kept doing it. His hands moved up to her waist. She let them. She’d been having fantasies about this. But when the hands suddenly shot up and clamped onto her barely-grown-yet breasts, squeezing hard, she panicked. “What are you doing?”

  He kept doing it. “Will! Stop it!”

  He didn’t. She stood there a couple more seconds. Everything she knew about Will conflicted with what was happening. He started sucking on her neck, trying to make a hickey.

  “Stop it now or I’ll hurt
you.”

  He continued.

  She hurt him, stomping hard on his foot, then turning and kneed him in the groin. She hadn’t meant to do the latter—she still thought he was Will—but her body had a mind of its own. Only when he staggered back, clutching his crotch, did she see who it was. “Get out of here,” she growled. “Don’t you ever talk to me again! I’ll tell!”

  “You loved it.”

  She glared at him. “I hate you!” She stepped toward him, seeing red.

  Still holding his crotch, he stepped back. “You thought I was my little brother. You want to fuck him, don’t you!”

  “I’ll tell!”

  “Tell that you want to fuck him? You’d be better off fucking me. At least I’ve got something to fuck you with.”

  That was when she grabbed a butcher knife out of the dish drainer. “Get out.”

  “You wouldn’t cut me.”

  She moved forward, with every intention of cutting him. “Want to try me?”

  He grinned, a lot like he had just now, but back then he didn’t know you had to squinch up your eyes to make people think you were really smiling. He had dead eyes. She moved toward him. He turned and ran.

  That felt good. Will showed up a few minutes later and she didn’t tell him. How could she say she let Pete touch her because she thought he was Will? It was too embarrassing. It still embarrassed her. She should have told him back then. Risked the friendship. Maybe Will would have gotten the hint.

  “You still holding a grudge, Mags?” Pete walked closer. “We were kids.”

  She stood her ground. “I was a child and you knew exactly what you were doing.”

  “Those were sweet little boobies. Ah, come on, don’t look like that. I don’t mean anything by it. I was inexperienced, too. I hadn’t felt many. You were so pretty, I just couldn’t control myself.”

  “Bullshit. The way I looked is no excuse. You would have raped me if you could have.”

  He held his hands out palms up in a gesture of helplessness. “Boys that age—”

  “Don’t even say it or I’ll crush them for you again.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.” He smiled again, like that was all it took. “You and Will ever get it on? You sure wanted him back then. I’ve seen you two around town together, even when he was married. Always a bridesmaid?”

  “You cuckolded him.”

  “And you weren’t fucking him on the side? Come on. Everybody does it.”

  “No. Some people don’t. Believe it or not.” She wanted to say more, but he would have enjoyed it too much if she’d gone on the defensive.

  “Look, I’m really sorry. For then and for just now. You know what it is?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “My baby brother doesn’t like me and I guess I still wonder if you didn’t turn him.”

  “I never told him what you did.”

  “Why not? Embarrassed that you liked it?” He smiled but forgot to crinkle his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just need to know why he didn’t like me. Why he still doesn’t.”

  “Oh, please. Maybe crap like that works on your girlfriends, but don’t try it on me. You know why he doesn’t like you.”

  She turned and walked away, almost certain she could hear him laughing behind the roar of the waves.

  48

  “Ghostbusters, ” Will said, hearing the movie’s theme playing as he entered Gabe and Kevin’s house. “I thought I was here for dinner.”

  “Of course you are,” said Gabe, holding the door. “Kevin thought you’d enjoy the irony when he saw that the movie was playing on cable. “Hi Maggie.”

  “Hi, Gabe.” Maggie trotted up the walk and entered, paused, and said, “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” along with the music.

  Will chastely kissed her cheek hello. “I think we’re here to be slimed.”

  “We wouldn’t do that to you guys,” Gabe said. “But Kevin did make green Jell-O. Come on in. Kevin’s in the kitchen.”

  All three went directly into the kitchen. Even though Kevin had only been home an hour, he was deep into dinner. “It smells wonderful,” Maggie said. “What are you making?”

  “It’s no biggie,” Kevin said, stirring a big pot on the stove. “Just spaghetti and salad, but thank you.”

  “You made sauce in an hour?” Will stepped up to a covered pot and lifted the lid half an inch. “Ah. I’m officially starving.”

  “After working like a slave all day for you, you think I made this from scratch? That takes hours, Will. It’s bottled sauce, but it was eight bucks a bottle, so it should be almost as good as mine.”

  “What? You’re kidding. Eight dollars? What was it, a gallon bottle?”

  “Please. Eight dollars a quart. It’s new. Imported from Patsy’s in New York.”

  “Patsy’s?” Maggie said. “That sounds Irish.”

  Kevin turned toward them, exposing his Kiss the Cook apron and rolling his eyes. “That would be Paddy’s.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Gabe tried to poke Maggie in the ribs, but she backed up into Will, who poked her for Gabe.

  “You people,” Kevin said imperiously. “Out of my kitchen with your childish behavior. I’ve made a pitcher of raspberry margaritas to keep you amused. Gabe, take them into the haunted room and get them a little sloshed. Pour one for me before you go.”

  Gabe grabbed the pitcher, filled a glass for Kevin, then led Will and Maggie, who carried three more wide-mouthed stems, back out through the hall and into the living room, which looked utterly normal.

  “Why did we go the long way?” Maggie asked.

  “So you noticed the pocket door into the dining room was closed?” Gabe asked as he filled glasses.

  “Yeah.”

  “Kevin didn’t want to take a chance on seeing any ghosts while he’s cooking. Can’t say that I blame him. Sit.”

  He took a chair, leaving Will and Maggie together on the couch. “You’re serious?” Will asked. “About why the door is closed?”

  “Yep. You want me to turn that off?” He nodded at the TV, where the ghostly librarian was wreaking havoc.

  “I don’t care,” Will said.

  “Just turn the sound down a little,” Maggie said. “I love this stupid movie. And this margarita.”

  “It packs a wallop,” Gabe told her. “Go easy. He’s got a couple different tequilas in there.”

  “So,” Will began, half-smiling. “We get tipsy and the ghost will appear?”

  “If they appear, they will whether you’re tipsy or not.”

  “They?”

  “We saw Jason Cockburn this morning.”

  “Who?”

  “Carrie Cockburn’s husband. Our ghosts.”

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk,” Will said. “It’s not just Kevin? You see this stuff too?”

  “Yeah. Plain as day.”

  “I didn’t figure you for believing in ghosts, Gabe.”

  “Will, I don’t know that I do. But I sure as hell saw something. Twice. Kev and I were together both times.” He rumbled a short laugh. “Of course, I don’t think either one of us has been in here alone since the first time.”

  “All clear?” Kevin called from the kitchen.

  “All clear,” Gabe confirmed.

  The pocket door opened and Kevin appeared, carrying plates. “Excuse me.” Gabe got up to help.

  Will looked at Maggie. “What happened with the seals?”

  “I talked to Lily, the marine biologist who headed the rescue team. She says the animals perked right up once they were in the observation area.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “A private aquarium and research center down the coast. She thinks they’ll release them within seventy-two hours. I talked to her about the birds and fish. She doesn’t know what would cause a disruption, but she thinks, at this point, that’s probably what happened.”

  “A disruption—”

  “In the animals’ senses, especially directional. If we have subs
nearby, they’re likely culprits.”

  “Even for the birds?”

  “Helicopters with disruptive equipment, maybe. Did Kevin find out anything about that or the geological anomalies?”

  “Yes. No quakes out to sea or elsewhere that should have any impact. Nothing in the air either, at least anything natural. We don’t know about the military. The more he dug, the more confusing it became. He tried phoning the nearest base and asking about helicopters and so forth, but they denied doing anything that could affect animals.”

  “Of course they did. They’re not going to admit to messing with the wildlife any more than they’re going to admit to the existence of U.F.O.s.”

  “Maggie. U.F.O.s?” Will shook his head. “Not you too? ”

  “Unidentified flying objects, Will,” she said sternly. “Not flying saucers. Just things without a known explanation.”

  “I think the military is responsible for most U.F.O.s,” Will said. “That’s why they deny knowledge.”

  “Or to save face,” Maggie argued. “Keep your mind open, Will.”

  “I saw a U.F.O.,” Kevin said from the dining room. “Come on you two. Dinner’s ready.”

  The table was beautifully set, with small summer gardenias and tea lights floating in a low, cobalt glass bowl as a centerpiece. Everyone sat down.

  “White or red?” Gabe asked, getting ready to open the wine.

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “Me, either,” Maggie agreed. “Not on top of the margarita. ”

  “Live a little. Italian food demands wine.”

  “One glass,” Will and Maggie said simultaneously.

  Kevin and Gabe exchanged glances.

  “What?” asked Maggie.

  “Nothing,” Kevin said. “But I saw a U.F.O. once. It floated overhead like a big Mexican luminaria. Then it just sailed away.”

  “Hot-air balloon.” Will and Maggie said it together, then looked at each other and grinned.

  “Why aren’t you two sleeping together?” Kevin asked after tsking at them. “You do everything else together.”

 

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