25. Jax

Jax

I cross my leg over the other and stare at the psychology books. There's a new one on the shelf. True Crime Psychology. It triggers thoughts that I have to push aside. Thoughts I'll unpack later.

"So, the Black Dahlia Killer is back. I spoke to Eugene before he left. He said Cherise is missing. What do you think? Is Louis back, haunting your life?" Sparrow is wearing, of all colours, pale yellow today. It makes his complexion look ruddy. Not that he would care, he's so deeply involved in his notepad and scouring my expression for truths that I doubt he looked in a mirror. And why are his fingernails so shiny? Does he get a manicure?

I sigh, trying to stifle my anger as I sink into the hated chair I should be used to. "He got her," I confirm. There's no use denying it with Sparrow. He will badger me until I admit it, anyway. And I don't have the willpower today to fight him. The window shows a picture of freedom, and I wonder what Sparrow would do if I climbed up onto his expensive wooden desk, kicked the oh-so-important paperwork aside, and sailed straight through it.

"How can you be so sure?" Sparrow asks and starts making notes.

"She works with me. She's young, healthy, and a mother who wouldn't leave her child. Thus, he has her," I say the words with no emotion. His pen scratching across the paper is the only sound for several seconds.

"And how do you feel about that?"

I give him a look that can only kindly be called scathing. "I'm horrified, guilt-stricken, desperately praying I'm wrong."

"Do you often pray?" Sparrow seems to find this fun and chortles to himself. I wait for him to finish and try to cool the anger in my veins.

"Only when I've tried everything else and I have no other options."

"Does it help?"

"No, it makes me even more pissed off because nothing helps when bad people do bad things."

"Please, don't swear in my office, Jackie." Dr Sparrow frowns down at his notes. "How long does he normally take to reveal a body?"

I pull a face that must mirror my disgust that he's even asking, but I banish it before he can say anything, relaxing into my expressionless mask. "He waits for occasions. Moments when it will make the most impact emotionally, physically, mentally. So, birthdays or anniversaries, parties or holidays."

"Interesting, interesting." He looks at me for a long moment and frowns. There is sweat beading on his upper lip and sweat patches under his arms. It's foul. "That's an unusual ring. Where did you get it?"

I look down at my hand and freeze. The room turns fuzzy at the edges, and there is a strange roaring. My ring. A blood-red stone surrounded by six black diamonds. That's my ring. My engagement ring that has been missing for six years. On my finger. When did he do it? He must have done it while I was sleeping. Oh, god, someone was in my apartment, touching me while I slept. Who, though? Who is doing this to me?

"What?" I jerk my head up.

"I asked where you got the ring." Dr Sparrow huffs and makes scratchy notes.

"Oh, my friend River gave it to me."

"Why is it on your engagement finger?"

I shrug. "I'm a single gal, not wanting to find a special someone," I flash the ring. "This keeps people away."

"That sounds like a good idea. You don't need added complications in your life right now," Sparrow says, and I can tell he bought the lie.

"Mm."

"So, let's address the issues and plan forward."

I uncross my legs and sit up. "Plan forward?"

"The detectives are going to be on your case, Miss Shade. They have already tried to subpoena my files."

I swallow against a dry mouth. "That's…not good."

"You must not step out of line. I will protect you as much as I can, but I think it's time you told me the truth."

"The truth?"

"About your involvement in the murders of the twenty-one, sorry, twenty-two victims."

"I told you the truth," I finally manage in a strangled whisper.

Dr Sparrow snaps his notebook down on the table and clasps his hands on his lap.

"That is simply impossible. You are smart, too smart. I know you are lying. I can see the signs sometimes. Looking away, holding my gaze too long, the change in your pulse rate. So, we both know that there is something you aren't telling me, and perhaps anyone, and it's time you confided in me. I've kept you out of prison all these years, and I'll get you through this. Help me to help you."

Bile burns up the back of my throat. "I told you everything."

We sit locked in silence for a long time. Sweat trickles down my spine, and my leg muscles twitch with the urge to bounce my knee.

"You disappoint me."

"I'm sorry," I whisper those words. Fear has a hand gripped tight around my throat.

"If you were sorry, you'd tell me the secret you keep. I can help you. The detectives won't be able to touch you. You are my client, and I have sworn to the judge I saw yesterday that you are mentally unfit to stand trial."

I choke, and a hiccuping sob escapes. "You said I'm mentally unfit? Does that mean?" I look at the black door.

"That is my decision, but if I think you are a danger to yourself or to others, I will lock you up for the rest of your natural life, and there isn't a thing anyone can do to stop me. You understand that, don't you? It's for your own good, Jackie. I'm protecting you, even from yourself."

"I don't want to go back," I whisper-shout.

"Then tell me everything, and don't skimp on the details. Tell me about Louis. Tell me how you met. How did you eat cereal? Tell me about how it all went wrong. Tell me the secrets you keep, and I will make sure you never have to worry about anything ever again."

I close my eyes, hearing what he's not saying.

"Dr Sparrow, I'm telling the truth. I told you everything."

He leans back in his chair and looks at the roof, his shirt riding up and showing off his pasty white belly.

"Jackie, you are really making my life extremely hard. The judge wants me to lock you up. The detectives want you in their cells. I can't put them off indefinitely. This is my job, to make sure people are healthy and safe."

"I am healthy and safe," I breathe.

He leans forward, steeples his hands together, and presses them against his chin. "I was referring to the other citizens of Hurricane."

"I don't hurt people. Dr Sparrow, I had nothing to do with it. I didn't know what he was doing," I speak, but I sound hollow and far away.

"I see. Well, I don't really want to go around and around with you. You should know that I will have you picked up if I hear you are involved in anything that might harm society."

"I won't."

"Fine," Dr Sparrow stands up and turns away, he walks to his desk and stares out the window. The stiff lines of his shoulders show just how angry he is. I peek at the black door, and then bolt from the room.

***

I sit on my couch and stare at the ring for hours while the conversation with Dr Sparrow runs circles in my mind. It's all falling out of my control, just like last time. The only difference is, this time, I can see what's coming. I know what hell awaits me.

Where did he find the ring? How did he get it in here without me waking? Gideon or Bob would have woken me. Rainbow shimmers flash in the kitchen, and I get up and pick up the bottle of water left from last night. Surely, not?

I kneel in my cupboard and pull out another bottle and inspect the seal. Sure enough, it's broken. I glance up and freeze, my heart slamming against my ribs, bile turning my mouth sour. I launch to my feet and yank the tiny camera that's hidden under my top cupboard off the wall.

Cameras and drugs.

I pick up the bottle of water and bring it down on the camera, over and over, until it's a completely different shape. With a sob, I stop. Panting, shaking, more scared than I have been in six years. I can't stay here; I hate it looks like I'm running away, but I can't stay and be drugged…if Sparrow does a blood test, I can kiss my freedom goodbye. Plus, there's the whole stalker touching me while I'm sleeping. I can't even think about it without wanting to throw my guts up.

I turn and look at the ring. This ring is one I wore for two years. I was so comfortable wearing it I didn't even notice it was on. How would he know that? I wore the ring; I didn't hide it. But how did he get it? It has to be a replica. Yes, that's it. It's a replica. I close my eyes, but no matter how hard I try, I vividly recall the first time I saw it and how happy this tiny, stupid piece of rock made me.

Whoever this is has been with me since the start, or at least following me from those early days. They had to have been there when I was living with Louis. Maybe he had a friend I didn't know about? Someone who took notes on our behaviour.

Everyone thinks this is Louis…but they're wrong. I need to understand Lee Banewood and Louis Falcon to find this copycat. My lip curls at the thought of the trip down memory lane, but I am done, I'm so done.

I stand up, walk into my room, pull out a backpack, and start packing. When I'm ready, I walk to the front door and toss the keys and the thrice-cursed ring on the stained carpets. I won't be coming back, one way or another, I'm done with this place.