Garden of Sorrow (Book 4 of Psychic Visions, a paranormal romantic suspense)

by Mayer, Dale

  Harsh crystal tones jarred her senses. What do I need to do?

  Do you have any idea where you are? Did you see anything? Glen mentioned a locked closet.

  That sounds about right. I'm jammed behind some kind of wooden door. It could be a closet or a storage locker. That's all I know. I only just woke up. She felt like apologizing for her predicament. Alexis hesitated as his words sank in. Glen?

  I'll explain later. Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance? Can you tell us anything else? he prodded.

  No, it's too dark to see.

  What about smells, sounds – anything distinctive?

  Smells… She paused to consider the odd scents that assailed her nostrils. Car smells, gas, oil. Maybe a garage or a mechanic's shop. Not overwhelming, possibly someone's garage.

  Good, keep thinking. Did you hear anything? Did you feel anything unusual? Think.

  Alexis remained silent for a moment, letting the words sink deep into her consciousness. Movement. I remember traveling, maybe being carried, but the memories are slippery, inconsistent, she protested. We can't rely on them.

  Wrong. Even though you were out cold, these sensations were emblazoned on your consciousness. You can tap into them.

  If I were to guess, I'd say I was brought here to someone's garage in the trunk of a car.

  Good, excellent!

  Alexis didn't understand his sudden excitement. It's not as if I told you anything new.

  But you put things together in a different way and that made all the difference. I think you're inside John Prescott's garage.

  What? Why there?

  I think Charles has stashed you there to implicate John. Glen said something about 'maximum destructiveness.'

  Alexis found her focus wavering. It was getting harder to concentrate.

  Alex?

  His sharp ringing tones forced her attention back to him. Sorry, she whispered, I'm losing focus.

  Alexis, stay awake! Do you hear me?

  Barely. Her voiced faded away for a moment, before rallying once again. I think I'm hurt.

  Then she was gone.

  ***

  "Don't panic, don't panic." Kevin raced through the hospital corridors dodging people and carts, heading for his car and open air and his cell phone. "Just because she faded out doesn't mean she's badly hurt," he muttered to himself, ignoring the many fascinated looks from people walking the same corridors.

  "Detective Sutherland," Scott called out a thick Irish burr.

  Kevin whirled to see Scott striding quickly behind him.

  "I called out several times, but you must be doing some very hefty thinking to not hear me." He smiled, but thick worry lines showed on his face. "Sorry to bother you, but I can't locate Alexis." He paused for a mere second. "Have you seen her?"

  Kevin motioned Scott to follow him out of the huge building. "She was kidnapped from the police station this morning. I'm on my way to check out a potential lead now."

  "I'm coming." Scott barreled beside him, anxious to hear the details. "Don't you be thinking I'm not."

  "I wouldn't dare." Kevin rolled his eyes at the huge man. "Get in."

  After throwing lights on the top of his roof, Kevin ripped out of the hospital parking lot and cut the corner too close, bouncing over the curb. Kevin felt Scott's sidelong glance, but he chose to ignore it. He used his cell to call dispatch for backup and an ambulance.

  The nightmarish trip continued through town until the truck came to a screeching halt just ahead of the black and white backup car. The ambulance also waited for them.

  As the two men raced to the front entrance of the house, the door opened and a stretcher was wheeled out. Kevin stopped, transfixed.

  It was Sandra, John's wife.

  "What the hell happened?" he said, his voice sharp with worry. His gaze darted in all directions as he searched for signs of Alexis.

  "Looks like a heart attack. We're taking her in now." The two ambulance attendants maneuvered the trolley carefully down to the waiting vehicle.

  "Is she stable?"

  "For now, but she needs to get to Emergency."

  Kevin nodded. "I need you to wait another moment. We have reason to believe there's another injured person on the premises."

  Both paramedics looked at each other before nodding. "Only long enough to get her loaded, or we'll have to come back."

  "Done." Kevin didn't waste any more time, he headed into the front foyer with Scott following closely behind. The other policemen were directed around back. Kevin knew the layout of the house, and he headed for the door leading to the garage.

  He entered at the same time as the other officers entered through the outside door. Carefully, he looked around. The space appeared deserted. A large cupboard occupied most of the far wall. Kevin couldn't recall ever seeing it open.

  A large bolt secured the wooden doors.

  "Useless things, these are."

  Scott reached out a meaty fist and wrenched the whole door off, taking the latch and bits of cheap pressboard with it.

  Alexis, unconscious and bleeding from her head, was slumped to the floor at their feet. One of the two backup officers raced out for the paramedics, while the other three people bent over her prone body.

  "Is she alive?" asked Scott anxiously.

  "Yes, she's breathing." Kevin grimly sliced through the tight bindings that pinned her poor arms back. As he did so, a low groan escaped from her slack mouth. Quickly, the others took care of the remaining bindings as a paramedic arrived.

  The medic checked her over thoroughly. "She has a head injury, and almost certainly a concussion, but I don't see any breaks or major bleeding. Let's get her to the hospital where they can check her out."

  The second stretcher arrived and within minutes, they were on their way to hospital, an anxious Scott holding Alexis's hand.

  Kevin had to stay behind and finish his job.

  For long moments, he contemplated the empty driveway and the plume of dust as the ambulance peeled off. Charles was physically responsible, but was he mentally responsible? Who would pay the penalty for these crimes? More aptly, who should pay for the murder and mayhem? Glen had mentioned finding a new host… Could he even be stopped?

  Would anyone believe this tale, let alone convict a coma patient of being a serial killer? Shaking his head at the vagaries of fate, and the other side of reality he found himself policing, he headed back inside to take care of business.

  Charles drove up an hour later and parked in the driveway. Calm and cool, he walked into his father's house using the front door, calling out, "Hello! Is anyone home?"

  Kevin walked out to meet him. "Charles, we need to ask you some questions involving the kidnapping of Alexis Gordon."

  The younger man looked at him in astonishment. "What are you talking about? I had nothing to do with any kidnapping."

  "Eyewitness accounts tell it differently." Not quite the truth, but Kevin hoped to prod him into revealing more than he would have otherwise. So far, Charles's surprise appeared genuine.

  "Bullshit! I've been at work all morning. Go ahead and talk to the construction crew about it."

  Kevin stopped to consider. "Someone will go and corroborate your story. In the meantime, what makes you think she was kidnapped this morning?"

  Charles looked at him in confusion. Stunned and bewildered, he didn't appear to know what to say. "I don't know. I guess I just assumed it."

  Could Charles be ignorant of Glen's actions when being used as a host? It was often that way with multiple personality cases. Kevin nodded noncommittally. "Like I said, we need to ask you a few questions. Shall we go inside for a few minutes?"

  "I don't want to bother my mother with all of this," Charles replied, stiffly.

  Kevin grimaced at what this young man didn't know. He made it brief and succinct.

  Charles didn't adjust well to the news. Bitterly protesting, Charles took a seat in kitchen. One of the officers stood quietly off to one side and slightly behind
him.

  Kevin phoned the hospital to get an update on their latest patients. Hearing that all was as well as could be expected, with Alexis still unconscious, he updated Charles. Giving the man a moment to deal with the news, Kevin then worked on getting the answers they needed.

  "Let's start with where you've been since last night."

  Charles willingly complied, giving a full and detailed account. If Charles's statement heavily implied that his father had been somehow involved, Kevin ignored that.

  "Charles, I need to ask you about of your little sister's death. What can you tell me about that?"

  "The only important thing to know is that my father killed her." He seemed almost relieved, even delighted to say the words aloud.

  The door behind them opened wide and his father entered the room abruptly.

  "I certainly did not kill my daughter!" The shock of betrayal laced John Prescott's voice.

  This wasn't sounding good. On the other hand, maybe now they could get to the truth.

  "John, I didn't know you'd arrived home." He studied John's ravaged face. "Have you heard about Sandra?"

  A shudder rippled down John's back. "Yes. I'd hoped to find Charles here so we could go to her at the hospital together." He motioned to Charles. "Let's go, son."

  Charles sneered at him and stayed seated. "Like you care."

  Deliberately staying between the two men, Kevin gave John the update he'd gotten a few minutes ago. "I'm sorry. We need to clear up a few things first." He motioned to another empty chair. "Please take a seat."

  John sat down slowly, his outrage slowly replaced by grief. "How could you think I don't care? Is that why you've hated me all these years? Do you really believe I killed your sister? I loved her, Charles, just as I've loved you all these years." The expression on John's pale face wilted further.

  Kevin studied John's features then scanned his mind. There was no sign of deception. John appeared genuinely devastated by the accusations and the news of his wife.

  "Like hell. You were always jealous of the bond between Daisy and me." Charles slouched back against his chair, turning away from his father.

  "Listen carefully." John leaned forward earnestly, trying to make his son understand. "I didn't kill Daisy. She was the light of my life!"

  Kevin straightened. Maybe now they could find the truth. The evil root. "Do you have any idea who did?" Kevin asked his friend.

  John, shamefaced, turned to look at Kevin. "Sandra was supposed to be looking after her. She'd been drinking heavily those days. She'd have blackouts and wouldn't know what she'd been doing, sometimes hours would be unaccounted for. Or so she said. On top of that we couldn't get Sandra's medications straight. I got home from work that day, too late to save my little girl from her neglect." He hung his head in pain.

  "I know what you're thinking. But there was no proof. And she didn't do it on purpose. She wasn't herself. Wasn't responsible for her actions. Please try to understand – I was devastated." He swallowed hard. "Sandra said she didn't see Marie's fall that broke her neck, that she had turned her back for a second. That it was an accident… At the time, I couldn't think straight and…" He stopped, tears hanging in the corners of his reddened eyes. "And punishing her wouldn't have helped. There's no way to know the truth of what happened that day. And no amount of blame would have brought my Marie back."

  Shocked silence hung heavily over the table.

  "She's harmless when she isn't drinking and she's even better when her medications are under control." He glanced between Kevin and Charles, blatantly pleading for understanding. "And I know it's no excuse, but between Glen's care, my business, a teenage son, and Sandra…I just couldn't deal with it all." He locked his fingers together, staring down at them. "So I took the easy way out."

  Charles sat forward. "What?" Shock and horror shone from his young face. "No! You're lying! No," he said, shaking his head frantically. "You have to be lying!"

  "Why?" prodded Kevin, needing to push Charles as far as possible.

  "It's just not possible." Charles stood up, gripping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip. "It just can't be how it happened."

  "Because then everything you've done since your sister's death was done for the wrong reasons?" suggested Kevin matter-of-factly.

  "Exactly," murmured Charles, lost in his own world. He glared at the father he'd spent a lifetime hating. "You have to be wrong. Daisy was being abused. I saw the bruises, heard her cry at night. I knew it. It had to have been you. You never took care of her. And you let that bitch keep neglecting her."

  John shook his head frantically. "Don't call your mother that. Still, I can't hide your mother's problems anymore. It wasn't abuse. It was neglect. Sure she might have hit her once in a while, but never badly. It was always the booze talking."

  Kevin hated the denial on John's face. How often had he heard the same thing from other families? Too often.

  When Charles stood, face to face with his father, shame, even acceptance covered John's features. There was a sense of waiting for judgment to be passed…

  Suddenly, John realized what Kevin had said. "What do you mean, he did things for the wrong reasons? I don't understand." He turned to his son, and asked, "Do you mean those threatening notes? You expected me to say I killed Marie? But I can't confess to something I didn't do."

  "It doesn't matter right now." Kevin bypassed John's question, wanting more of his own answered first. "What precipitated your move to this place, so long ago, John?"

  He shuddered. "That was a horrible time. The police investigated Daisy's death and finally determined it was accidental." He stopped speaking, visibly holding back tears. "Even with that ruling it seemed like the public persecuted us. So I moved everyone here. And after losing Daisy I wanted to be closer to my brother."

  "I spoke to the police years ago. Tried to get them to take another look at you. But they weren't interested," Charles said.

  Kevin sensed there was more to the story. "And Daisy?"

  "It was so hard to leave her behind, but we needed a fresh start. And Glen needed us too. I felt I could be of more use to the living." John slid a surreptitious glance his son's way. Charles glared at him, obviously not quite ready to give up all of his long-held beliefs.

  Kevin thought about that. It wasn't uncommon to leave an area for a fresh start. Moving a loved one from cemetery to cemetery was much more difficult. After a moment, he continued. "But that's not everything, is it? The problem goes back further, doesn't it?"

  John looked at him in confusion. "I don't understand."

  "Tell me about your brother's accident."

  "What's to say? He ran his car off the road years ago. He was in his early thirties at the time and has been in a coma ever since. He had an affair with Sandra, you know. Wanted to take her away, but she stayed with me. Though I disliked what he tried to do with my marriage, I haven't managed to pull the plug. Instead, I funneled tens of thousands of dollars for his care, hoping he might one day recover."

  "More half truths!" Charles interrupted, his fingers drumming the tabletop. "You inherited all the family businesses, his house, his cars, in fact his whole fortune. What did you have before his accident? Nothing – that's what." He turned his back on his father. "Accident, my ass."

  Kevin watched their interaction with interest.

  John held out his hands. "No, that's not true. What have I done to make you want to crucify me like this?"

  Sarcastically, Charles answered, "Nothing apparently, except let my sister be abused at the hands of a raving drunk."

  There was no doubting Charles's sincerity. This man truly believed the worst about his father and wanted to see him hang. As Kevin turned to study John's face, an odd black shadow caught in his peripheral vision. There was another presence hanging around John. Shit! It had to be Glen, trying to control the scene. And damn it. This was a little out of Kevin's league. Where the hell was Stefan when you needed him?

  Right here!

>   "Thank you!" whispered Kevin under his breath.

  Get rid of the other cop.

  Kevin called the other policeman over for a moment of private conversation. Quickly, the other man left. Kevin's actions received strange looks from both father and son.

  "I have something a little odd to discuss with both of you." Kevin sat down, motioning for Charles to retake his seat, opposite. "There are very weird psychic occurrences going on here that you both may or may not be aware of."

  John stared at Kevin in astonishment.

  Charles's face changed, becoming almost a mockery of his former features and he grinned malevolently. Obvious signs of possession – for those who knew what to look for – became more apparent by the second. As he spoke, there was no longer any doubt. The voice was hard, raspy and mature…well beyond Charles's normal voice.

  "Finally, you're going to give me an opportunity to speak. Hallelujah." The macabre laughter both fascinated and horrified Kevin. John's face twisted in confused horror as he stared at his son. He obviously didn't understand.

  "What's the matter, brother? Don't you recognize me?" Charles's face seemed to even elongate, shaping itself into a travesty of the more mature man.

  "What? Charles, what's wrong?"

  The laughter seared John. This time, even Kevin winced at the sound.

  "You still don't understand, do you? You simpleton. I'm Glen, right now…inside Charles. Using your precious, weak son for my own purposes. He barely exists in here any longer. But this isn't about him. It's about you. Have you enjoyed my life, brother? The life you stole from me."

  John went from disbelief to shock. "This…isn't possible. Is it?" Fearfully, he looked from his son to Kevin. "Kevin, please tell me this isn't happening."

  "Sorry, it's happening all right." Kevin didn't dare take his eyes off the malevolent manifestation in front of him. He'd never seen anything like it before.

  And hopefully, you won't ever again, murmured Stefan.

  Kevin had forgotten Stefan's presence, faced with this new development. He wasn't sure what either of them could do at this point, except watch the scene play itself out.

  "Are you really Glen?" John spoke faintly, obviously not believing what he'd witnessed so far.