4.4

It was staring at Detective King with those black button eyes. Staring at him as his mother’s doll used to. Unlike his mother’s doll, the one Olivia Gray held was less worn; red dress still red, peach yarn face still peach, and it had all of its hair. Less picked at. He had always hated that doll. Didn’t know why he kept it after his mother had committed suicide. It was sitting in a box in his closet. Should have just buried it with her. Should have burned it. He could still burn it, though he knew he never would. It would rot in his closet, the moths slowly eating at it, like the maggots had his mother.

It took effort to tear his eyes from the doll and look at Olivia, and he regretted it. It was too much like his mother. Blank eyes, body rocking, and hand working (picking) at the doll. The only difference was Olivia was white with blue eyes and blonde hair and his mother was black with brown eyes and dark hair. It made him feel like a little kid again, frightened and unsure. He had spent years trying to make sure those emotions stayed away. It had been why he worked so hard. Too busy to feel anything but grim determination. Never stopped to think it would fuck up his marriage.

At least he was on the right path to fixing his marital problems. He and Tabitha were speaking on a regular basis, and sometimes they would go on dates with each other. She wanted counseling, but they had yet to agree on when. He wanted to put it off for as long as possible, afraid his mother might come up. He never told Tabitha she had committed suicide or was mentally unwell. All his wife knew was she was dead and that was all she needed to know. Skeletons could stay in his closet.

King cleared his throat. His dark eyes (his mother’s eyes) shifted to the paper in front of him. A list of questions he had asked Olivia, but had gotten no answer. Just her staring off, picking at that goddamned doll. A part of him wanted to take the doll from her, see how she would react. His mother had screamed and cried like a toddler until he gave it back to her. Once, she had hit him. That had been the last time he had tried to take it from her.

“It’s not nice to take what’s not yours.” The voice was soft, and hardly audible, but there was no mistake. Olivia had just spoken. King wanted to look around him, but there was no one else in the room but them. He was even more shocked when she continued. “The doll was hers. Not yours. You took it. You deserved to get hit.”

“What did you just say?” He had heard her perfectly, but was so dumbfounded by what she said, he could think of nothing else to say. She had not read his mind. There was no way in hell she had known what he had thought.

She lifted the doll from her lap and held it in front of her face. “They never believe me,” she said solemnly, shaking her head. She pulled the doll to her chest, stroking its hair. “Why don’t they believe me? I hear, I listen, I answer. So simple, yet they never believe.” For the first time, her eyes fell on his. “Why don’t they believe?”

That was the first time Olivia had said anything in the past three week he had been coming to see her, and King was not about to pass it up. If she kept talking, she might reveal something about her time with Wood and the woman who killed him. He gave himself a mental cheer for recording it. “Because it’s not natural.”

“Not natural.” Olivia’s eyes shifted around the room before landing on the detective once again. “Does that mean I’m not natural?”

King shook his head. “Not you. Your ability.”

She nodded as if confirming something she already knew. “My mom thought it was not natural, too. She hit me in the head with a tire iron. It’s why my brain doesn’t work right. You can’t ask her about it, though. She’ll say she didn’t do it. She told everyone my brother did it, and he went to jail for it. I wanted to tell the truth, but she said if I did, she would hit me again. She did anyways. Never with a tire iron. With other things. Like hands and feet and books. I like to read.”

Not exactly the information King was looking for, but it was still good to know. It gave him more clarity on what made Olivia tick. Maybe the next time, he’ll bring her a book to read. And have a little conversation with her mother. A very serious conversation. “What kind of books do you like to read?”

A small, pleased smile appeared on Olivia’s face. “I like romance. And fantasy. Nothing scary though. I don’t like to be scared.”

“I’ll have to ask your doctor first, but maybe I can bring you a book next week.” He started to gather his things, the conversation nearly over.

Olivia nodded, visibly please. The rocking stopped, but she continued to stroke the doll’s black yarn hair. “It was an angel, you know.” King froze, waiting for her to continue. “An angel told Andrew to kill all those women. He didn’t know it. Couldn’t see it. But I could. I watched it whisper in his ear. He didn’t always listen. The angel wanted him to kill me, but he wouldn’t. He wanted to keep me. Andrew liked me. Said he wanted to marry me. Sometimes he talked about killing me though. He scared me.”

King took a deep breath to clear his head before speaking. He hadn’t expected her to talk about Andrew so soon, and the fact that he had an accomplice changed everything. It was damn good he hadn’t touched the recorder yet. “What did this angel look like?”

Olivia shook her head. “Don’t know. I can’t see them well, or demons. They’re kind of blurry. I can hear them though. It was a man angel. He had bird feet. But they all have those. His wings were white. Not all of them have wings.” She lifted the doll in front of her face. “Andrew couldn’t see him though. Not many people can. Only the half people can. Half people and their babies. But the babies can’t always see them. I can hear them more than see them. None of them are very nice.”

“How often do you see these angels?” Not a normal question a detective would ask, but King found himself very curious. It was obvious the girl was not right in the head, suspected she hadn’t been since her mother hit her, but it didn’t mean he should blow her off. If anything, he needed to take what she was saying seriously. What she believed to be angels, might be perceptions she had or people she had seen, just couldn’t remember properly.

“A lot of the time.” The doll was crushed against her chest, her blue eyes staring in the distance once again. “They are in a lot of places. There is one right here.” She pointed right next to him.

The hair on the back of King’s neck stood on end. It had to be a trick of his mind, but he swore he felt someone breathe on the his cheek as soon as she pointed. It’s all in your head, he told himself, trying to calm down.

“No it’s not. He just touched you. His name is Gabriel. He likes you. He told me to talk to you so I’m talking to you.” She nodded her head. “He’s one of the nice ones. There’s not many of those. He likes humans. Wants to help us. Make sure He doesn’t get out.”

He. The single word left King uncomfortable. As if a thousand eyes were on him, a thousand bugs crawling on his skin. He shifted in his seat, but kept his eyes on Olivia, hoping she would continue to take his discomfort away. But she said nothing. If he was going to keep her talking, he was going to have to ask a question he didn’t want to know the answer to. “Who’s He?”

Her blue eyes fell on him and her head tilted to the side. “The Devil,” she answered with a blink. She made it sound as if he should have known the answer. “He wasn’t supposed to wake up, but he did. The lady who saved me woke him up. She didn’t mean to. It just happened. Like me. I wasn’t supposed to be born.”

King was about to open his mouth for condolences and assurances, but Olivia’s face suddenly changed. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. “I’m done talking,” she growled. “I have a headache.”

If that was all he was going to get from her that day, he was okay with it. He could always come back another day. No point in irritating her to get more information. “I’ll leave you alone then.” He smiled as he stood up and gathered his things. “Thank you for talking to me. I’ll be back sometime soon with a book.” Her eyes lit up, but the sour look on her face didn’t disappear. It must have been one hell of a headache.

As quick as his feet could carry him, King left the building, making sure to inform the nurse on duty he was done speaking with Olivia. He seemed to be relieved to be able to take her back to her room. King suspected a slight attraction, though one that would never go anywhere. “Oh,” the nurse turned around, his light brown hair falling into his green eyes, “Dr. Carter would like to speak with you.”

Dr. Abigail Carter was an attractive woman. She had long slender legs, a tiny waist, ample chest that her black v-neck showed off, and short strawberry blonde hair, just like Tabitha. Her gray-green eyes had a brightness that many in their fifties did not have, and her crooked smile hinted at secrets. She was the kind of woman he would have dated, if he had not been married.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked as he shook her hand from across her desk. Her hands were calloused, hinting that she did some manual labor at home. Gardening perhaps? She didn’t seem like the gardening type of gal, but people always surprised him.

She considered him for a few minutes in silence before answering him. “How often can you visit Olivia?” Dr. Carter had a naturally low, sultry voice, even when questions, such as this one, had no sexual nature to them. It made the tips of King’s ears burn.

King had an idea of where it was going, but he didn’t know why. “Currently, I’m coming as often as I can.” About once a week. He would come twice a week if his schedule allowed it, but there were other things to do at the station. Some minor cases to work on. Mostly cases that solved themselves. Captain Williams was trying not to overload him before his imminent retirement. He was grateful for it, but getting a little bored. If only this case would go somewhere. The sooner it was done, the sooner he was done.

Dr. Carter smiled, leaning forward, giving King a nice view of her cleavage. “I would like you to continue your visits, even after you close this case.” King stayed silent. Waiting for the woman to continue while she waited for him to ask “why.” When he didn’t, she started to speak again. “Olivia does better when you come and visit her. She still doesn’t talk a lot, at least not to me, but she is noticeably better. She pays attention and rocks less. There have been a few times when she has left her doll inside her room.

“She was never right to begin with.” A little harsh for a doctor, but it was the truth. Brain damage does that to people. “But she is slowly become more like her old self. She used to enjoy going outside and interacting with the other patients during her group sessions, and she seems to be coming back to that. I believe you are to thank for that, and I would like you to keep coming for as long as she has to remain here, or I say otherwise.”

There was no reason to say no. King had planned to come once a week until the case was solved, what was a few more months? At the rate the case was going, she could be out of the institution before it was even solved. Or Dr. Carter could decide that he was no longer needed. Besides, if he was helping her, what did it take out of his time to stop by and see her. Olivia seemed like a nice girl, and he could help her get back on the track of becoming a functioning human being again. And Tabitha would kick his ass if he said no. “What do you want me to do.”

“Basically what you’ve been doing. Talk to her. If she talks, listen to her. Answer if she asks a question. Just interact with her. Make her feel like a normal person.”

Easy enough. “She actually spoke today.”

Dr. Carter raised an eyebrow. “Color me surprised. I didn’t expect that to happen for a while.” A grin spread across her face as she went in search of Olivia’s file in the shelves behind her. “What did she talk about?” an excitement was in her voice that was near contagious.

“She likes to read books. Romance and fantasy, nothing scary.” That reminded him. “I would like to bring her something to read, if that’s alright.”

When the file was located the doctor returned to her desk, opening it. “Yes, of course you can. Before you do, inform me of the title so I can look through the book and make sure there is nothing that will upset her.” When she found a blank page in the file, Dr. Carter started to scribble furiously. “Is that all she spoke to you about?”

“She told me that her mother hit her in the head with a tire iron, blamed her brother, and then continued to abuse her.” There was no way in hell he was going to mention Olivia’s ability to read minds (he had a hard time believing that one still) and her ability to see “angels.” It was possible the doctor already knew that, but there still was no reason to bring it up.

Dr. Carter set her pen down, folding her hands over it. “I regret not going to the police on that. There was patient/doctor confidentiality to look at, and they wouldn’t have believed me. Olivia had already told them at the hospital that her mother had done it, but her mother convinced them that she was confused. I didn’t know about the continued abuse. It seemed her mother made sure to keep that one well hidden.”

King raised a hand to make her stop. The amount of shame in her voice made him uncomfortable. “Not really much you can do about it now. Just make sure she gets better. I have to go.” He stood and Dr. Carter stood with him. Both reached out to shake hands. “I’ll be sure to get back on you with that book.”

“I look forward to hearing from you.”

They released hands and King left. No sooner had he gotten to his car when he got a call from Anderson. “Hey, come get some lunch with me.” The tone let him know Anderson wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Where at?”

“Debbie’s Diner.”

A nice hole in the wall that cops go to to get free coffee, which sounded good right about then. “Aright. I’ll be there in twenty.” He hung up before his friend could demand anything else from him. “Goddamnit,” he muttered under his breath, slamming the car door shut. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, feeling that breath on him again. His heart hammered in his chest as he started the car, and drove off. The entire time he drove, he convinced himself he had not seen his window fog up.