The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02 (8 page)

Dallas felt different, empty, like a real pretty picture frame with nothing in it, and that had to be a bad sign.

I really should listen to my instincts more often.

We dropped Silas off at a cousin’s house. He had family down this way and they were looking forward to seeing him. Despite his assurances, I felt like a fifth wheel after the first thirty minutes. His relatives had decided I was some type of wayward youth that Brother Silas was mentoring.

Oddly, it wasn’t that far from the truth, but let’s not discuss that. Besides, I had a job to do.

The Angela Chase Mental Health Center was a small, exclusive nut house tucked away near some expensive residential communities, and built for people who liked their privacy. The place obviously cost a fortune. The building had a rustic, estate appearance, with large brick walls hiding immaculately manicured landscaping, tennis courts, a swimming pool, and a guard shack barring the entrance. I wondered if it was Sonya’s money paying for it or Cassandra’s.

After copying my driver’s license and verifying I had an appointment, the burly private security officer at the gate informed me that I had to park along the brick wall and walk up the driveway. Only staff and emergency vehicles were allowed on the property. Naturally, he couldn’t see Amos, but I thought it best not to speak to or even look at my buddy. I didn’t want this visit to become an extended stay, if you know what I mean.

Either way, something told me that if Mike Ross ever got tossed into the loony bin, it wouldn’t be a place like this. It’d be some hellhole where they still do electroshock therapy on a regular basis.
He says he can see and talk to ghosts, Fred. Turn the juice up a little more!

Amos walked off to take a stroll around the grounds on the off chance that Sonya might be able to see him. It wouldn’t go over very well if she just started freaking out.

It felt like I was visiting someone at a hotel instead of a hospital. I checked in with a professionally dressed receptionist, not someone in hospital garb. The sharply dressed black woman, in her mid-thirties, who escorted me to see Sonya, had a name tag that identified her as Ellen Forrester, RN. Her title was Visit Facilitator. She had a kind, motherly face coupled with a friendly demeanor.

Yup this place had the lingo down pat. It even dulled my natural apprehension toward the mental health community.

“Now, Mr. Ross,” Ellen began, “before you go in and speak with Mrs. Hodges, I wanted a few minutes of your time to ask you about the topics you wish to speak with her about.”

Internally, I went to “yellow alert” and contemplated “raising shields.”

“I wanted to see how she’s doing and talk to her about my time in Iraq with her husband.” I repeated the same lie that I’d used with Heather. “He was my best friend.”

Ellen hesitated. “Sonya’s in a difficult place. When she first came here, she claimed that she’d been talking to his ghost and that he was answering her. For her sake, please be respectful when broaching the subject with her. We don’t intrude on our patient’s privacy, but we will be watching from a distance if she becomes agitated and upset. This has happened on a few occasions when Sonya was visited by her parents and her brother.”

“I understand.” Honestly, I was surprised Sonya had family. She’d never once mentioned them, but that was Cassandra’s influence. For the umpteenth time, I was forced to separate the two women in my mind. The reality was that Sonya Hodges is a familiar looking woman, who I’ve never really met and only heard stories about.

Entering the parlor, I almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was back to its natural brown color and had been straightened. The clothes were very conservative and the makeup wasn’t applied with a paintbrush to withstand dancing under a spotlight. All things considered, she looked like a regular woman.

She stood and reached out her hand. “Mike Ross, I almost didn’t believe them when they said you were coming to see me.”

I took the hand and gave it a light squeeze. “I was out this way with a friend. We’re heading further west in a few days and it seemed like the right thing to do. Heather told me to say hello and that she’d try to get up here in a few weeks.”

Sonya smiled and looked away. “She’s a good friend. Better than I deserve. We never really got along, did we, Mike?” It was one part question and the other part statement. She sounded like she barely knew me.

“No, I suppose we didn’t, but that’s not really that important. How about we sit down and talk about some of the good times? How are you getting along?” I took a seat on the chair across from the small couch she was using. There was a table, with a couple of magazines on it, between us.

As much as I wanted to just cut to the chase and start asking her a bunch of questions about Cassandra, I needed to take this nice and slow.

“I’m better … I think,” she said slowly.

“How’d you end up in a place like this?” I asked making a show of looking around. “It must cost a fortune.”

“My parents,” she looked away, probably embarrassed. “They’re hoping I’m serious about getting help, this time. So am I.”

“Oh, I never remember you talking about your parents,” I said this for show, because Skinwalkers have a habit of making a clean break, and taking anything of value with them.

“They’re pretty well off. Dad’s a real estate developer up in Tulsa. I’m trying to earn back their trust. Right now, all I have is their pity.”

“You’re probably making a good start. I’m just curious, but why didn’t you go to a place in Tulsa? Why’d you choose Dallas?”

Sonya paused, as if she was trying to compose a proper answer. “This is going to sound stupid.”

“Try me. I’m all about stupid.”

She chuckled. I must’ve been doing something right for a change. “Cassandra was afraid of Dallas.”

The startled look on my face was genuine. The fact that the Skinwalker was afraid of this place was noteworthy.

Sonya shook her head, misinterpreting my reaction. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“No,” I tried to reassure her. “I believe you. Tell me more about Cassandra.”

“Well, the doctors say that she was a manifestation of a split-personality and that Don’s death traumatized that part of my psyche and allowed me to regain control. I came here because I thought I’d be safe from her in Dallas.”

“Any idea what’s special about Dallas?”

“No. Everything is kind of foggy. It’s like I watched my life on TV.”

“Was I at least the comic relief?” I sort of borrowed the line from Amos in hopes of keeping the tone from getting too tense.

She scrunched her nose and replied, “No, you were my husband’s idiot best friend. Now, how about you? They said you wanted to talk to me about Don.”

It was my turn to pause. Sonya deserves some honesty. She’d lost entire years from her life.

“Not really. I want to know more about Cassandra Von Eckels and Skinwalkers.”

Sonya sat up straight and went rigid. “She … they don’t exist! My doctors told me.”

I motioned for her to calm down. “Sonya, listen to me. I bet you haven’t told your doctors all the things you remember – things like hanging around in graveyards and speaking with the dead.”

The color drained from her face and her left hand had a death grip on the armrest.

“Look, I know that Cassandra was a ghost who possessed you. I know that she’s real. She and Don tried to come after me when she left you, but I beat them.”

“No, they’re not real,” she repeated in a hushed whisper.

“Remember sending me Don’s dog tags?”

“I never …,” she stopped and trailed off before her eyes opened wide. “I did do that, didn’t I?”

“That was Cassandra doing it, Sonya.”

“You said you beat her. How?”

I shrugged and felt strangely self-conscious. “I’m a Ferryman.”

“Ferryman? Ferryman? Cassandra was once in love with a Ferryman, but they don’t exist anymore.”

“William. Yes, I know they had something together. It turns out I’m related to William and Edgar.”

Her posture lost some of its stiffness. My words were getting through to things buried in Sonya’s subconscious. “Ferryman … they send ghosts on. Did you send her on?”

“Not yet, that’s why I’m here. I want to make sure she’s gone.”

“You can’t let her know where I am!”

Aw hell! She was getting louder. Nurse Forrester on the other side of the room was looking at us.

“I won’t. If she’s afraid to come to Dallas, you’re safe. Tell me about her. Where would she go? Is there an object that she’s very possessive of?”

Sonya seemed to shrink back into the cushions. “I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to be Cassandra anymore! I’m Sonya! I need to be Sonya.”

“C’mon Sonya, give me something about her that I can use. I’ll make sure she never finds you again.”

“You can’t look for her. I don’t want her to find me!”

“I can get rid of her once and for all. Just give me something, anything.”

The approaching footsteps told me I didn’t have long. Two orderlies and the Nurse arrived on scene. “Mr. Ross, I’m going to have to cut this short. Sonya let’s go back to your suite.”

Sonya fought as the two men helped her stand. She didn’t have the size or strength to mess with these two hulks, but she was getting an “A” for effort.

After about ten seconds, she sagged in their arms. Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with me. “Amarillo,” she said. “Look for her in Amarillo.”

She offered no further resistance as they took her away. I was left to face the ire of Nurse Forrester. Her kind motherly face looked much different now. “I don’t know what that was about Mr. Ross, but you might have just undone months of progress. I will escort you to the door. If you ever attempt to set foot on this property again, I’ll have you arrested. Are we clear on this?”

“Yeah, I won’t be back.” I’d gotten what I needed at the expense of Sonya Hodges. Maybe these head doctors could put her back together, given enough time. They could only treat the symptoms. They’d never get to the root cause of her problems. I could. My job was to make certain that Cassandra would never come after Sonya again. As soon as I was sure William was truly gone, I’d send Cassandra to join both him and Donnie.

Exiting the building, I heard a loud thunderclap. The sky had gone from overcast to black, but that was the weather in Texas. Several car alarms on the other side of the brick wall were going off and there was a crackle of ozone in the air. Whatever just happened was pretty close.

From the doorway, the nurse pointed toward the driveway and didn’t really appear bothered that she was sending me out into a thunderstorm.

Shrugging, I picked up the pace, but so did the rain. Getting to the guard shack, I flipped my visitor’s badge to him. Hopefully, Amos would be waiting for me. Loitering in the parking lot might be a problem. The rain was falling and the smell of ozone was stronger. I wondered if there hadn’t been a lightning strike right in the area.

Like so many other times, I was wrong. Something was in the area alright, but it wasn’t natural.

Amos was suspended in the air like a rag doll. The ghost holding him was choking my buddy while Amos’ feet kicking feebly at the spirit. The angry ghost wasn’t fazed and was instead demanding answers from Amos. He raised his free hand and, I shit you not, a lightning bolt went right through them. Amos grew alarmingly dim, while the other guy got brighter and the sky opened up with the rain turning into a torrential downpour.