Darker Than Midnight

  Stephanie just stared at her. Standing there, almost as real as if she were still alive.

  “Why do you have to look like that?”

  The woman tipped her head to one side, frowning as if trying to make out what she was saying, but unable to.

  Dawn shot a look at Mordecai. He shook his head sadly, lowering it. And she knew, then. She knew he wasn’t going to talk to her again unless she asked him to. Maybe it was some kind of rule.

  She closed her eyes, so she wouldn’t see them, but she could still feel them there, all around her. Death, closing in on her from all sides. And she wondered if maybe she couldn’t run from it. If maybe, no matter where she went, they would find her.

  Damn it, what did they want?

  The bedroom door opened, and she jumped and spun to face it. But it was only Bryan coming back inside. Beth and Josh were close behind him, and man, did Beth look worried. So worried Dawn took a quick sideways glance at herself in the mirror, and almost gasped at what she saw.

  She was pale and her hair was a wild mess that stuck up all over, probably from the countless times she’d pushed her hands through it. She had dark circles under her eyes, but there was more than that. Her eyes were wide and odd looking. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost, she thought, almost smiling at the phrase that popped into her head. She guessed she understood it now.

  “Ethan Melrose was shot in the head an hour ago, at his house,” Bryan said softly. “But he’s not dead. He’s in a coma in the hospital.”

  She nodded slowly. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what, Dawnie?” Beth asked, coming into the room. “Honey, you look terrible. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked around at all the dead people, then closed her eyes. “Could you guys leave me alone for a minute?” she asked the living.

  “I don’t think—” Bryan began.

  “Bry, let’s give her minute,” Josh said. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  Bryan looked into her eyes. Dawn looked away, ignoring him. She didn’t want him involved in this. It wasn’t his nightmare.

  When she heard the door close, she looked around her, at the dead, and finally, she faced her father. “I need you to talk to me. Tell me. What more am I supposed to do?”

  Mordecai sighed as if in relief. “Ask Stephanie. She knows.”

  “I tried that. She can’t hear me, and I can’t hear her.”

  Mordecai moved closer, reaching out to her. “You can, if you let me help you.”

  “I don’t want your help. Dammit, Mordecai, I don’t want anything from you. Not your help, not your presence in my head and not your curse. Least of all that.”

  He nodded, and she’d never seen anyone look sadder. “I’m sorry.”

  She glanced toward the woman—Stephanie. She was speaking urgently now, gesturing with one hand while cradling her child in the other. She seemed desperate. Tears were flowing from her eyes.

  Dawn looked at Mordecai again, lifted her hand. “All right,” she said. “Help me.”

  He reached out, took her hand in his, and she felt it, but not like a physical touch. It was cold, clammy and not solid. Like holding a handful of icy cloud, only slightly more dense than that. It sent frigid shivers up her arm, and down her spine.

  Mordecai looked at Stephanie, and Dawn did, too.

  “She can hear you now,” Mordecai said. “Talk to her.”

  Stephanie spoke, and Dawn heard her. And as she spoke, Ethan Melrose faded and didn’t come back.

  Moments later, Dawn opened her bedroom door to find Beth and Josh and Bryan standing outside it. They’d been talking. About her, no doubt. But the conversation stopped as soon as they saw her.

  “I have to go to the hospital. I have to see Ethan Melrose. I don’t know why, but I think it’s pretty important.”

  * * *

  “Your Honor.” River’s attorney, Derrick Brown, lowered his head as Frankie introduced him to Judge Henry. “I’ve never known a judge to go above and beyond like this. I’m grateful.”

  The judge grumbled some sort of reply. River recognized the man, remembered him from his hearing so long ago. He had skin like aging leather and hair the color of slate. His face was a transcript of every trial over which he’d ever presided; line by line, every one seemed etched there.

  Then the judge was staring him in the eye. “Corbett, you look decidedly different from the last time I saw you.”

  River nodded. “I was under the influence of some pretty powerful drugs back then, Your Honor, prescribed by my psychiatrist at the time.”

  “Mmph. Dr. Melrose. I remember.”

  Frankie had arranged chairs around her tiny office. They all sat in them now. Her, the D.A., River and his lawyer, and Judge Henry. Frankie had filled the judge in on what had happened today before he’d even begun questioning River.

  “This was my case,” Judge Henry continued. “I don’t much like being told I was wrong about a decision, but in this case, I believe the weight of the mistake falls squarely on your own shoulders, Mr. Corbett. Why did you plead guilty if you were innocent?”

  “Your Honor, my client—”

  River put a hand on the lawyer’s shoulder. “How about I speak for myself here? It’s my life that’s on the line, after all.”

  Brown shot him a look, and nodded.

  “Your Honor,” River said, “I get these blackouts. I sort of zone out for a period of time and afterward I don’t remember anything that happened. It’s because of a bullet that’s lodged in my brain, from a gunshot wound I received in the line of duty. At the time of my wife’s death, I honestly didn’t remember what had happened.”

  “And now you do?”

  “No. I could tell you I did, but that would be a lie. I don’t remember. But I have learned that the psychiatrist who convinced me I must have done it, was having an affair with my wife.”

  The judge looked up sharply, held up a hand when the D.A. started to argue. “Can you prove that, son?”

  River nodded. “The maid at the Harrington Inn, where they used to meet, will testify to it. The manager, too, if pressed by the law. And I’m pretty sure that Ethan Melrose fathered the baby my wife was carrying when she died. It’s on the record that it wasn’t my child—though no one told me back then.”

  The judge looked at the D.A. “Did you know about this?”

  The man shook his head, flipping through papers. “The autopsy wasn’t completed until after Corbett’s plea has been entered and accepted. It was not brought to my attention.”

  “It’s my belief, Your Honor,” Derrick Brown said, “that Dr. Ethan Melrose had been keeping Mr. Corbett heavily and needlessly drugged during his time in the state hospital in a deliberate attempt to keep him from remembering what truly happened that night.” He set a sheaf of papers on Frankie’s desk. “These are his medical records, and a report from a top psychiatrist who’s gone over them. In his opinion, none of the drugs Corbett was given were indicated by his symptoms.”

  The judge opened the folder, looking at the top sheet, then lifting his head. “Dr. Cameron. That’s a very famous psychiatrist.”

  “I didn’t want there to be any doubt about his credentials. I hired the best. I also have the sworn statement of a psychiatric nurse who worked with Mr. Corbett, who complained several times that he was showing signs of being over-and wrongly medicated, but her complaints were ignored.” He handed another sheet to the judge.

  The judge perused it, and nodded, glancing at the D.A. “You’ll want your own expert to review all of this.”

  The D.A. nodded. “There’s still the escape charge,” he reminded the judge. “And let’s not forget the orderly Corbett killed in order to get away.”

  “I didn’t kill him to get away,” River said. “I killed him to keep him from killing me. And it wasn’t intentional, either. The man pulled a knife on me.”

  “A knife that has that so-called orderly’s prints on it,” the lawyer added. “And
it turns out he was working there illegally, using a false ID. He had a record, had taken money to do harm to people in the past. Did time for it.”

  The judge leaned back in his chair, blinking at the D.A. “Is that true?”

  The D.A. sighed. “Yes.”

  “So you have here a man who was framed for the murder of his own wife, betrayed into a psych ward by his doctor, drugged into oblivion and then attacked by a felon with a knife, and you want to prosecute him?”

  The D.A. lowered his head. “He hasn’t proven anything yet.”

  “Your Honor,” Derrick Brown said. “All I ask is that my client be allowed to keep his freedom while the evidence is reviewed and a decision made as to whether to prosecute him.”

  “He’s a flight risk,” the D.A. said. “He escaped the state hospital. Who’s to say he won’t vanish?”

  “I escaped the hospital to save my life,” River said. “I haven’t left this town since. My only goal was to find the truth. I could have run a hundred times since my escape, but I didn’t. And I won’t.”

  The judge rubbed his chin. “Would he be in danger again, if he were put into custody?”

  “He could be,” Brown said. “We can’t be sure until all of this is settled.”

  “Chances are I wouldn’t, Your Honor,” River stated. “Ethan Melrose was shot by his wife earlier tonight. She was aiming for me. He’s in the hospital and in no condition to pose any real threat to me.”

  “I like your honesty, son.” The judge nodded. “I hesitate to put a man behind bars who may have already done time in a mental ward for nothing. But I’d prefer to release him into the custody of a responsible person.”

  “He’s been staying with Lieutenant Cassandra Jackson,” Frankie said. “She’s next in line for my job, came here to train for it, as a matter of fact. I trust her.”

  “Your Honor,” the D.A. said, “that’s the same woman who’s been aiding and abetting him all along.”

  “Actually, she made the same decision I would have,” Frankie interjected. “Had she turned him in, he could have been murdered while in custody. Had she turned him away, he could have been long gone, for all she knew. Keeping him secure while investigating his claims was a stroke of genius.”

  “It was also completely unprofessional and inappropriate, and I think you know it, Chief Parker,” the judge declared. “That said, I don’t doubt for one minute you’d have done the same.” He looked around the room. “Where is this Jackson?”

  “Home, nursing injuries she received in a hit-and-run earlier today.”

  “Ahh, that was her.” Judge Henry nodded. “Then she’s in no condition to guard a prisoner. I’ll release him into your custody, Chief Parker. And you’d best keep him with you. I don’t want any more screwups. I’ll have my court clerk contact you two gentleman as soon as she’s set up a formal hearing on all of this.” He looked at the D.A. “How long do you need?”

  “A month,” the D.A. began.

  The judge waved a hand. “A week is plenty. Just to be nice, I’ll give you two.” He turned again to River. “One thing I just can’t get straight in my head, son. Why did you listen to this man? What would possess you to put so much stock in the opinion of one doctor?”

  River lowered his head to hide the surge of emotion welling inside him at the question. “He was my best friend, Judge. Like a brother to me, since I was just a kid. I trusted him.”

  The judge shook his head slowly. “Makes it that much worse, doesn’t it? Yeah. I know. Chief Parker, get him home, give him a good meal and a warm place to sleep. I intend to do the same for myself.”

  He got up, shook River’s hand. “Son, although it’s far from official, it’s pretty clear to me what’s happened here. You have my sincere apology for what you’ve been through. I know it’s not worth much, but—”

  “It’s worth a lot, sir. But you don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m the one who entered the plea.” He held the man’s eyes. “Thank you for coming out here to listen to me, Your Honor.”

  The old man nodded, and left the police station. Within a few minutes, the others went as well. River promised his lawyer a lengthy meeting the next day. Then he turned to Frankie, when they were alone together in the station.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Don’t turn those big eyes on me, young man. I’m too old to fall for it.”

  “She’s waiting for me, Frankie.”

  “You can call her from my house,” she said. “I’ve stuck my neck out for you plenty—from here on in, son, this goes by the book.”

  He sighed, a deep yawning chasm opening up inside him. And he recognized it for what it was—the emptiness he would always feel without Cassandra by his side.

  * * *

  Dawn turned to look back into her bedroom before she closed the door. “I’m going to need you with me,” she told Mordecai. It galled her to say it. She didn’t want any part of her father—not even his ghost. But she needed to see this thing through to the end. She needed him in order to do that.

  And after that—never again.

  “Of course we’re going with you,” Beth said from the hallway.

  Dawn looked at her, smiled and tried to avoid Bryan’s knowing eyes. He was scared to death for her. And until she got this sorted out, figured out exactly what it all meant, he would keep right on being scared for her.

  He deserved better than that.

  He took her hand when she came out of the bedroom. She let him hold it only until they reached the stairs, then pulled hers free as if she needed to hold the railing on the way down. She didn’t. And she thought he knew it.

  An hour later, they were clustered around the nurses’ desk in the ICU, asking about Ethan Melrose. But before the nurse could even answer, there was a shriek from one of the rooms, then the door opened and a woman staggered out, supported by an older man Dawn didn’t recognize.

  She recognized the woman, though. It was Ethan Melrose’s wife. She’d seen her in the photograph in the doctor’s office. And from the way she was sobbing…

  “I’m sorry, dear,” the nurse at the desk said. “Dr. Melrose passed away a few moments ago. That’s his wife over there. She needed some time with him.”

  Dawn nodded slowly, her eyes still on the woman, as the man—her father, Dawn realized, in the way she realized so many things—helped her down the hall. She was leaving, going home, getting out of here. They ought to sedate her, Dawn thought. Imagine shooting your own husband and having to live with that.

  “Are you a family member?” the nurse asked.

  Dawn looked back at her, ignoring the eyes on her. Bryan’s, Beth’s, Joshua’s. Even her father’s. Mordecai stood near the doorway to Ethan’s room, staring intently at her. “I’m his niece,” Dawn lied smoothly. “Would it be all right if I saw him? Just for a minute?”

  The nurse blinked, then nodded slightly. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Dawn thanked her, then turned toward the door.

  “Dawn, you can’t,” Beth said. “There’s no reason in world to put yourself through this—”

  “I have to,” Dawn told her, and she took a moment to look her birth mother in the eyes, to let her see into her own. “I really have to.”

  Beth frowned, and then her brows rose, and there was something like horror in her eyes. “Oh, no,” she whispered, as if it was finally hitting her what was happening to Dawn.

  “I have to,” Dawn said again, and she tugged her hands free and walked alone toward the dead man’s room.

  She went inside, her gaze focusing automatically on the body in the bed. It was pale, and very still, the head swathed in bandages, eyes closed. There was nothing all that horrible about it.

  But the man who stood in the corner of the room was considerably creepier. He was staring at the body and looking horrified. And there was a hole in one side of his head, and blood on his face.

  He wasn’t fading in and out as he had before. He was solid, as solid as Mordecai or any of the other ghosts ev
er were, but terrified. His mouth was moving, but Dawn couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  She glanced at Mordecai. He nodded at her. So she reached out for his hand, and he took it.

  “What…what happened?” Dr. Melrose asked. “I don’t understand. What happened to me? How can I be here, and in that bed, and why was Victoria crying that way?”

  “Dr. Melrose,” Dawn said.

  He didn’t look at her, kept staring at the bed, babbling. “I remember—God, it was awful. It hurt, and then it didn’t, and then I was here—but I wasn’t. Not really. Hell, how can this be? What’s going on? Why couldn’t Vicki hear me? What’s—”

  “Dr. Melrose,” Dawn said again. “Ethan.” She said it firmly, loudly, and he looked at her that time. He frowned. “You can see me? Thank God. No one else seems to realize I’m here. What’s going on?”

  She blinked slowly, shooting a look at Mordecai. He nodded at her. “Tell him, Dawn.”

  Dawn took a breath and told herself she could do this. Someone had to. “You’ve died, Ethan,” she said. “That’s your body, there in the bed. You’re not in it anymore. Do you understand?”

  His eyes widened, and shot back to the body. He moved closer to it, reached out a hand to touch it, but his hand moved right through, and he jerked backward in surprise. “Oh, God. Oh, no. I can’t be—”

  “You are,” Dawn said. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “No. No. No, this isn’t—it’s a dream, that’s what it is. It’s all a dream.”

  “It’s real, Ethan. I’m sorry. But your physical lifetime is over.” She searched her mind for something to say that could comfort him. Even if he had done all the things she believed he had, he didn’t deserve the stark terror she saw in his eyes. No one did. “There’s a whole lot more to life than what you knew before, Ethan. Look at you. Your body’s dead, but you’re not. There’s a whole new kind of existence for you. It’s going to be all right.”

  He stared at her, shaking his head slowly. “I remember you,” he said. “You came to my office. You knew things—”

  “Stephanie told me things,” she said. “She wanted me to help River prove he didn’t kill her.”