The Bridge (Para-Earth Series) (24 page)

             
The work could take a terrible toll on you and those around you.  Sometimes you wanted someone to open up to who could help you forget.  Then, other times you simply wanted to be alone.  Not an easy thing to say to those closest to you, when they just wanted do was reach out to you. 

             
Then there was fear that every day you walked out the door in uniform, that you may not come back.  There were all kinds of dangers you faced; armed robbery, crazed drug addicts, domestic violence, drunken brawls or worse.

             
He hadn’t been sure how to approach her at first.  The fact that he had been dancing with her boss’s wife had been pure chance, which convinced him that fate was giving him a nudge in her direction.

             
Without realizing it his eyelids began to droop, as his whole frame relaxed into the soft cushions of the chair.  Now he was mentally wandering down other corridors from his past. 

             
Of course there had to be a starting point to everything.  And his interest in older women went back much farther than Veronica.  He didn’t suffer from an Oedipus complex.  He didn’t long for the mother he lost at such an early age. 

             
Like any child or grown up who had lost a parent, he sometimes wished he could have another few moments with her.  Sharing a cup of tea, having a nice conversation, or taking a long walk together... but that was all.

             
No, his interest in older women started later, when he was twelve. 

             
Dorothy Waterman.

             
He began to drift off.

             
Dr. Dorothy Waterman, 35 years old and built like a brick privy.  She had been his first when he was only twelve.  Oh, the things she had shown and taught him in those few days. 

             
Dorothy. 

             
He could still taste her.  How they kissed and pleased each other.  It had made no sense to either of them at the time.  But he knew now.  The house had done it to them.  Harlequin had gotten inside them and made them do those things to each other.  But it had felt good, the panting, the moaning…

             
Then came the screaming…

             
Those had belonged to him mostly.  And he hadn’t been able to stop.

             
Dorothy had gotten him free from those… things.  God what they had tried to do to him…  He still felt violated by their touch.

             
Him and Dorothy… running along the third floor landing, when it warped itself and threw them over the railing.   She had held onto him and twisted their bodies at the last moment…

             
Then only he was still screaming.

             
His lover lay broken on the marble floor beneath him.  The place had taken her from him.  Now it wanted him, and he couldn’t move.  He was frozen in place by the presence invading his mind which threatened to swallow everything he was.

             
Then hands grabbed him and a voice said,
“I’ll get us out, son.  Hang in there.”

             
It had been Chalmers.  Good old dying Chalmers… the lower half of one of his legs was missing.  The trail of blood he left in their wake stretched across the marble floors to another door that led downstairs.

             
The man did his best to pull him to safety.  Alex remembered looking up towards the balcony that had thrown him and seeing his cousin watching them.

             
Rick… You’re dead…  This place killed you…

             
Chalmers continued to try and pull him out of there, in spite of his own injuries.  The man had been determined not to let either of them die inside that place.  Alex remembered thinking,
but you’ve already lost so much blood, Chalmers…

             
Then there were more screams, but they weren’t his.

             
Several figures appeared at their side.  The newcomers grabbed each of them and hurried them towards the great doors that three others were struggling to keep open.

             
He turned to look at Dorothy.  Was it too late to save her?

             
The broken figure was already melding with the floor.  Her red hair… wait Dorothy had been a blonde.  The head lolled to one side and stared at him with green eyes…

             
“NOOOOO!!!!” he screamed and found himself safely back in his grandparent’s home.  It took him a moment to remember, they were both gone.  But they had been alive back then.

             
They had been the ones to fetch him from a hospital in Massachusetts, after Matheson had contacted them.  His father and sister had been abroad in England and out of reach at the time. 

             
For days he had been afraid to go to sleep, terrified of finding himself back in that place and realizing he hadn’t escaped after all. His grandparents never left him alone and had eventually gotten him to eat and rest more quietly. 

             
Word of what happened, was never sent to his father.  His rescuers had stressed the need for secrecy.  The doomed expedition had lost four of the eleven who had ventured into that nightmare place.  If word got out there would have been a full scale inquiry by the university.  And he would have been held and he would’ve been called on to testify and relive his nightmare experience.  No one wanted to put him through that,  so the matter was dropped.

             
Unfortunately, while he had recovered here with his grandparents, the other survivors suffered much different fates.  Two were still institutionalized to this day.  And as for Chalmers; his bizarre fate remained a mystery.

             
Miraculously he had survived, in spite of the loss of blood and his lower leg.  But he would have to be hospitalized for a few months.  However, a few weeks after being admitted he disappeared from his room.  His whereabouts remained a mystery for days and then weeks.  Eventually, his body was found in front of the doors of Harlequin House, still wearing his hospital gown. 

             
To this day, no one was able to explain how he made his way back there or why his remaining foot was bare and completely clean. 

             
Getting out of the chair, Alex wandered into the living room and glanced out the big window.  He could see the Ballroom from here.  It had been a huge part of his recovery.  For it was within those walls he’d taken his first dance steps. 

             
It had been a month after he escaped from Harlequin House that tragedy struck here.  His Grandfather suffered his first heart attack.  Unwilling to leave his Grandmother alone to face this trial, he had insisted on staying with her.  Luckily, his father readily agreed.  The extra time apart from his parent made keeping the secret, of what had happened in Massachusetts, that much easier.

             
He never told his sister about it either.  Such things as psychic abilities and haunted places were things that were not real, and anyone who believed in them needed their head examined.  At least that was what she said before she found religion.  Nowadays if he told her the truth there was a possibility he’d find himself burned at the stake.  He wondered what Sharon would say when she finally realized her own son had such abilities.  Although the boy was only three years old, Alex had already felt his nephew touch his mind more than once. 

             
And until the other day, he’d been deathly afraid to tell Veronica about what he could do.  But she had accepted everything he told her without hesitation.  She’d even told him that she’d met psychics before who had helped during some police investigations. 

             
A part of him wondered if this was really true, or if had she been humoring him.

             
No, he knew better.  She believed.  And while this development had been reassuring to him, it had also been a little troubling.  She’d always been adamant about him staying out of her work.  But that had been before.  Would she start asking for his help?  And if she did, would he agree?  Did he dare go down that path again?

             
Turning away from the window, he went and fixed himself a pot of tea.  He placed it on tray along with a large mug, cream and sugar.  Then he carefully carried it to the living room, placed in on the coffee table, and stretched out on the sofa.  He didn’t want to think about anything for a while.

             
Grabbing the remote, he turned on the television and flipped through the channels until he found two rubbery monsters battling it out in Tokyo.  It was followed by another movie in a similar vein with different monsters.  He allowed his tired brain to wallow in the mindlessness of the film and fell asleep once more.  This time his dreams were more peaceful.

              “This ain’t good,” muttered Roy staring at the report.  It listed everything that had been found at the scene of Wells’ death.  Among them was a handprint on the outside of the doors to the morgue, which did not belong to anyone on the hospital staff.  But it did match a print they had on record here at the station, Alexander Hill.

             
He put the report down and picked up the paper they’d found at the scene.  The words, ‘Hill?  Check with Sergeant Ross’ stared back defiantly at him.  He sat back in his chair.  Alex vanished from the party for an hour and was found near the source of the water used in all four deaths.  And the hospital was less than a mile away, easily reached by foot in ten to fifteen minutes.

             
By all rights he should’ve pulled the Youngster in for questioning, but there had to be a simple explanation.  Hadn’t the Elliott girl also seen someone down at the bridge?  He needed to talk to her.  Ronnie might have her number, but that would mean telling her what was going on.  But what choice did he have?

             
Slowly, and very reluctantly, he got up from his chair and headed to her office.

Counseling

              Cassandra smiled at the large cat in her lap.  As soon as she’d arrived he’d come right up and checked her out.  Apparently she passed inspection, because as soon as she sat down he’d immediately got on the couch curled up on her thighs.  He even stayed there while she ate her breakfast, allowing her to balance her plate on top of him.

             
“If you ever get tired of him, you have my permission to push him away,” Julie called out from the kitchen.

             
“That’s okay, we’re getting along just fine,” Cassie assured her.  Just then the big tom stretched his head up until it rested against the underside of her chin and started purring.

             
Julie must’ve heard the sound because she popped her head out of the kitchen to see what was going on.  A look of surprise crossed her face, “I don’t believe this! He’s usually hiding.  Or sitting somewhere nearby glaring at my visitors.  He terrorizes Alex.”

             
“Really?”

             
The big girl nodded. “Every time Alex comes over, Hercules here starts doing Kitty rips and knocks him over.”

             
“His name is Hercules?”

             
“Yup,” Julie smiled, coming over and scratching the cat’s head. “He’s twenty-five pounds of kitty muscle, no fat anywhere on him.”

             
Cassandra was impressed.  “I’ll make sure I stay on his good side.”

             
“I think you’re already there,” Julie laughed and sat down, “I hope you enjoyed breakfast.”

             
“Oh it was great, those omelets were to die for,” Cassie gushed, “and those muffins were killer.  Especially the white chocolate ones, I never seen anyone do those before.”

             
“They’re a specialty of mine,” Julie winked then added conspiratorially. “My mother doesn’t like any chocolate, but white.  I made them for her one Christmas and she fell in love with them so much she even forgave me for being the way I am.”

             
A dark cloud crossed over Cassie’s face.  “She wasn’t happy about it when she found out you were a lesbian?”