Haunted Humans Part 7

She let go of him and rubbed her eyes. "I -- I feel mixed up."

"No wonder. I'm a bit of a blender myself, hon; can't imagine how I'd feel meeting somebody like us, but having that piled on top of this other --" Morgan pursed his lips and looked down toward the front hall, where Afra and Vance stood looking up. "Come on. Sort it out later."

D.J. took his hand and headed down the stairs.

FOUR.

They're monitoring everything. They said this call's okay, since I'm still at the police station. Officer Vance says if you can bring a dictaphone and the tapes and a computer to the station, they can get them to me. I don't know. You might just want to hire a temp." D.J. paused for breath.

Dr. Bollings said, "I think that would probably be best. How are you holding up?"

"Not too well," said D.J. She stared down at her lap. She was still wearing her office clothes, turquoise and silver shirt, black skin, dark stockings, black flats. Usually the first thing she did when she got home from work was change into jeans and a big loose shirt. "And-- Doc, I did something really stupid."

She hesitated.

"Yes?" said Dr. Bollings.

"I made a date with one of Dr. Kabukin's patients. He said he checked it with her, but he told me later that was a lie."

"Oh, Dorothy Jean!"

"I realize it was stupid and probably a violation of office policy."

"Absolutely. But I don't know if we've ever articulated that policy. Tacit understanding isn't the same as something written down." Silence. "Which patient?"

D.J. squeezed her eyes shut. "Morgan," she said in a small voice. Of all

Dara Kabukin's patients, Morgan was probably the most obviously askew.

A sigh.

D.J. looked up. Around her the business of the police station went on, people working at desks, some bringing people in, others answering phones, leaving, talking with each other. No one was paying any attention to her. She stared at her skirt, at the black pleats. "Doc, I may be setting Morgan's progress back hundreds of years."

"I'll let Dara know," Dr. Bollings said in a dry voice.

"The more I know him, the more I like him," D.J. said.

"For now, I think your seeing Morgan is contraindicated, at least until Dara has had a chance to meet with him and a.s.sess the effects of these developments."

"I don't think I get to see anybody anyway," said D.J. "I'll try to call you again in a couple of days, if it's okay with the police."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Dr. Bollings asked.

"Just --" D.J. picked at the pleats in her skirt, staring down, trying to think.

She couldn't think of anyone she wanted contacted, certainly not her mother; Afra knew, Gary knew; her other friends, people she had met at community choir, she didn't even know most of their last names or phone numbers. She would have to call the director and tell her she couldn't make it to rehearsal. "Tell Dr.

Dara and Dr. Earl and Dr. Brad I won't be in?"

"Surely," said Dr. Bollings.

The next day crawled by. D.J. and a female detective named Rae stayed in a cheap hotel, where the odor of cigarette smoke clung to the orange drapes and bedspreads despite wide open windows, and all the light bulbs were 40 watts.

"I hate waiting" D.J. said midway through the afternoon after numberless games of cards and Sat.u.r.day morning cartoons. "Giving all my power over to him.

Reacting instead of acting. Are people out there looking for him?"

"You better believe it," said Rac. "Us and the Feds."

"Have they found anything yet?"

"Nothing substantial. We're circulating pictures, asking questions, following leads."

Somewhat comforted, D.J. poured herself some coffee from the thermos on the dresser and sat down to play more cards.

Too restless to sleep long, D.J. was watching the 6:30 a.m. news Sunday morning with the sound down low when she heard about the attack on Afra. In a second she was shaking Rae awake, then turning up the sound. " . . . stabbed seven times.

Mrs. Griffin was hospitalized following the midnight a.s.sault and is reported in critical condition," the newswoman's voice was saying while the television showed a picture of the Coat of Arms Apartments building without identifying its location. "The reason for the attack remains a mystery, but local authorities are warning residents to lock and deadbolt their doors and to be extra cautious about strangers."

D.J. felt frozen. "Why didn't you take the gun to bed with you?" she whispered.

"Why wasn't somebody guarding you? Why didn't you come with me?"

Rae was on the phone, talking in a low voice, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. D.J. twisted one hand inside the other. She wished Gary were there, talking sense to her, the way he had during the other bad time, telling her she hadn't done anything to make Chase the way he was, that there was nothing she could have done to stop him even if she had known what he was doing that she wasn't a horrible person just because a monster had chosen her to love. She closed her eyes and clutched her nightgown in her hands and tugged. The fabric was too strong to rip. Why hadn't she figured that he would go after Afra?

Wasn't Afra the one who had foiled his last attempt at a kill? Didn't it make logical sense?

Would he go after Dr. Bollings next?

"I have to call," said D.J., surging up off her bed and going to Rae. "I have to call my boss. Maybe he's already gone after her. What about Dara. What about Morgan. I don't think he knew Morgan was there. What if he drove a little distance away and saw all of us coming out of the building? I don't even know Morgan's phone number! But Chase knows everything he's been watching maybe he can find Morgan. I don't know where Morgan lives. He killed Gary and Gary was a cop. Gary couldn't stop him. He tortured Gary. He might torture Morgan. Then Gary would have to go through that twice and everybody else in Morgan and Morgan --".

Rae shook her shoulders. "Get a grip, D.J."

D.J. blinked and said, "I have to call Dr. Bollings."

"They've dispatched somebody to the residences of all the doctors in the office.

They're all fine. We've advised Dr. Bollings and Dr. Kabukin to either leave town or come in for protection -- "

"And Morgan?" How could she have gone with the police on Friday night and left Morgan to fend for himself? Even though it had been Gary who said good night to her. "Good," he had said, "now that I know you're safe, maybe I can figure something out."

"Protect yourself," she had told him.

"Oh, I will," he said. He had retrieved the baseball bat.

Tears in her eyes, D.J. had kissed Morgan/Gary good-bye, the first time she'd ever kissed Gary. During the case she had been too emotionally bruised to do anything besides hang onto him, and afterward she had left. Now his desperation matched hers. It had been hard to let go of him.

Yes, if Chase had only driven a little ways away, and had turned back to see that embrace, he would be gunning for Morgan too.

"What if he's already killed Morgan!" she cried, pulling on her hair.

"Shh," said Rae. "Round him up, okay, Rifkin?" She listened, then looked at D.J.

"You have an address for him?"

"No. Dr. Kabukin knows, but I don't. Yesterday was our first date."