“That’s all?” he asked mildly.
“I’m sure it’s not all,” Dex answered. “But it’s enough for us.”
“Well it’s not enough for me. All of that can be explained with two simple words: Mental Hospital. Anything a patient sees can’t be taken seriously.”
“And their families? And your paid staff?”
He managed a quick smile and eased himself out of his chair. He walked over to the window and peered out at the black rain-spattered night. Dex followed him with the camera lens.
“I think it’s contagious, you know,” Hasselback said. “The nurses, the night staff, the old security guards we used to have. These are people who had no connection to the patients at all. But these…diseases. These plays of the mind. They are contagious. And they catch. If this happens to people of rational thought, what happens to family members, when they see their loved ones strapped down to a chair, muttering nonsense about things that aren’t there?”
I wasn’t watching the doctor anymore, I was watching Dex. The camera had faltered down just a little bit and his eyes looked glazed and fearful at the same time. Like he was remembering something. I wanted to reach out for him and bring him back in but the doctor beat me to it.
Hasselback turned around from the window and looked squarely at Dex. “Wouldn’t you say that apparitions are nothing more than a virus? Spread between two people with nothing more than a sneeze. Or a suggestion?”
“Perhaps,” Dex said slowly. We both knew what he was saying. We had thought it before. But we also knew it wasn’t true.
“So you see, then. The way the mind works. No, this hospital or any of its buildings aren’t haunted.”
“Because you personally don’t believe in ghosts,” I pointed out.
“Not in the way that you believe in them. But there are ghosts, oh yes, there are ghosts and they all live here. Because people with mental illness are haunted by ghosts every day. But these are ghosts inside their heads. Ghosts created by chemical imbalances and strengthened through memory. Everyone has ghosts that follow them throughout their lives. Ghosts of the past they wish they’d left behind, ghosts of love they once turned down, ghosts of regret and ghosts of loss. Ghosts of guilt. We all have them. I do. Roundtree does. You both do. And if you don’t deal with your demons, they will haunt you for the rest of your life.”
Dex and I both fell silent, stiffened and awkward. Hasselback’s words hit me hard and I knew they hit Dex hard too. It all made sense. Our personal demons, the ghosts of our past, the things we hid in the closet or under the rug, or inside a hollowed-out book, would eventually find us. Maybe they’d find us in ways that only our mind could imagine and interpret as something supernatural.
But at the same time…that was impossible. Not because it couldn’t happen, but that it wasn’t the case with us. Not with Dex and me. Certainly not me. I wasn’t seeing a dead girl in his living room because I had a hard time letting go of my love for him. I didn’t see Mary because I felt unappreciated by my parents. And I didn’t see Ol’ Roddy because kids teased me when I was young. I saw those things because they were people once and they were haunted by their own pasts and just wanted someone to finally notice. I don’t know why they chose me, but to pretend they were a figment of my imagination was wrong. Evil or not, they were people and deserved at least a bit of recognition, even if they couldn’t have my compassion.
I looked over at Dex. He still had the camera rolling on the doctor during this long pause but his mind was elsewhere. I reached into my purse again and grasped my iPhone in my hand. I gave it a squeeze and let go. I would need it tonight, I knew this much.
“Did that answer your question, Mr. Foray?”
Dex slowly nodded and looked down at the camera. “I think we’ve got enough here.” His voice was lower than usual and as thick as soup.
Hasselback nodded then peered with his rodent eyes at Dex’s arm. He was just in a plain black tee shirt, his jacket on the back of the chair. It was a trifle warm in the room.
“What’s your tattoo of?” Hasselback asked.
Dex looked up at him, brows raised. “On my arm?”
“Yes,” he said patiently and walked over to him to get a better look.
Dex rolled up his sleeve to show him the black, simple-looking fleur-de-lis on his bicep. His bicep instinctively flexed and looked very nice indeed.
The doctor nodded and stood up straight. “The mark of a criminal.”
Dex didn’t move. I flinched.
“What?” I asked, leaning closer to Dex’s arm. Mark of a criminal?
“I assume Dex knows this. That’s why he chose it. The fleur-de-lis is the mark of French nobility, and also the mark of a criminal. They were branded with it, usually on the shoulder or on the back. It showed that they were owned by the monarchy. Are you French, Dex?”
“Yes,” he said, sounding plain. He rolled down his sleeve. The movement was very robotic. I watched them both carefully, not wanting to interrupt.
“There you go. Not that that was hard to deduce. I can see it in your coloring. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Olive skin. You have all the French in you. But not all. You’re a half-breed.”
Dex gave the doctor an annoyed scowl. But the doctor continued, “Sorry. No disrespect. People’s ethnicities say a lot more about them than the people themselves. It’s part of the past and the past is what molds us.”
“We really don’t have time for amateur psychology, doctor,” Dex sneered. I imagined his sneer was as polite as I’ve ever heard it.
“I’m hardly amateur. And I apologize for being curious. I can tell this is all news to her and she wants to know more.”
He pointed his steepled fingers at me. Dex didn’t meet my eyes but kept his focused on the doctor.
“Half French…half Scottish?” he asked.
I expected Dex not to say anything. But he eventually said “Irish” out of curiosity to see where the doctor was going with all this. It was like going to a palm reader. I was more than glad that the attention wasn’t on me but I kind of wanted to know if he could guess my background.
“Ah. Irish and French. How perfect that is.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“You look it. And I bet your mother was the French one, am I right?”