The Law of Moses(37)

As soon as I spoke, I felt stupid. Molly didn’t belong to anyone here. She was here because I was . . . though I had no idea why.

“What did you say?”

The question came from the man to the left of Molly, a man who looked about my age, barely old enough to be on the adult floor. His green eyes were sharp, though his posture was relaxed, his hands folded loosely in his lap. I could see a long jagged scar that ran from the bottom of his palm to the middle of his forearm. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to live very badly.

“Molly. Do you know a girl named Molly? A dead girl named Molly?” I should have borrowed some of Dr. Andelin’s kind and gentle approach. But I didn’t. I just asked.

The boy leaped from his chair and flew across the circle to where I sat. I was so surprised I didn’t have time to prepare before his hands were wrapped in my shirt, yanking me to my feet. I found myself nose to nose with a fire-breathing, green-eyed monster.

“You son of a bitch!” he spit in my face. “You better tell me how the hell you know anything about my sister!”

His sister? Molly was his sister? My head spun as he shoved me again, but this time he didn’t want answers. He just wanted to knock me down, and we both fell back, upending my chair, and I forgot about Molly and enjoyed the way it felt to let go. We hit the ground with our fists flying and people screaming around us.

I almost laughed out loud as I caught him in the stomach and he immediately punched back, catching the grin as it crossed my lips and leaving blood in its wake. I had forgotten how much I liked fighting. Apparently Molly’s brother enjoyed it as well, because it took Chaz and three other men to break it up. I made note of the fact that Noah Andelin hadn’t hesitated about wading in and was the one sitting on my back, shoving my face into the floor to restrain me. The room was chaos, but between the upended chairs and the scrambling legs of the staff trying to get the other clients out of the room, I could see Molly’s brother in the same position as I was, his head turned toward me, cheek against the grey speckled linoleum floor.

“How did you know?” he said, his eyes on mine. The din around us quieted slightly. “How did you know about my sister?”

“Tag. No more!” Dr. Andelin barked, sweetness and light all run out.

Tag? What kind of name was that?

“My sister’s been missing for over a year, and this son-of-a-bitch acts like he knows something about it?” Tag ignored Dr. Andelin and raged on. “You think I’m gonna shut up? Think again, Doc!”

We were both pulled to our feet and Dr. Andelin instructed Chaz and another orderly I didn’t recognize to stay. Everybody else he ordered out. A plump brunette therapist named Shelly stayed behind as well, and she hung back as if to document the meeting as Dr. Andelin righted three chairs in the center of the floor and instructed us to sit. Chaz stood behind Tag and the other orderly stood behind me. Noah Andelin sat equidistance between us, his shirt sleeves rolled up and a little blood on his lip. Looks like I clipped him on accident. Chaz handed him a tissue and Dr. Andelin took it and blotted at his lip before eyeing us both and straightening in his chair.

“Moses, do you want to explain to Tag what you meant when you asked if anyone knew a girl named Molly?”

“A dead girl named Molly!” Tag hissed. Chaz patted his shoulder, a reminder to calm down, and Tag swore violently.

“I don’t know if she’s his sister. I don’t know him. But I’ve been seeing a girl named Molly off and on for almost five months.”

They all stared at me.

“Seeing her? Do you mean you have a relationship with Molly?” Dr. Andelin asked.

“I mean, she’s dead, and I know she’s dead because for the last five months I’ve been able to see her,” I repeated patiently.

Tag’s face was almost comical in its fury.

“See her how?” Dr. Andelin’s voice was flat and his eyes were cold.

I matched his tone and leveled my own flat gaze in his direction. “The same way I can see your dead wife, Doctor. She keeps showing me a car visor and snow and pebbles at the bottom of a river. I don’t know why. But you can probably tell me.”

Dr. Andelin’s jaw went slack and his complexion greyed.

“What are you talking about?” he gasped. I’d been waiting to use this on him. Now was as good a time as any. Maybe his wife would go away and I could focus on getting rid of Molly once and for all.

“She follows you around the joint. You miss her too much. And she worries about you. She’s fine . . . but you’re not. I know she’s your wife because she shows you waiting for her at the end of the aisle. Your wedding day. Your tuxedo is a little too short in the sleeves.”

I tried to be flippant, to force him out of his role as psychologist. I dug around in his life to keep him from digging around in my head. But the savage grief that slammed across his face slowed me down and softened my voice. I couldn’t maintain my attitude against his pain. I felt momentarily shamed and looked down at my hands. For several heartbeats, the room was as still as a morgue. Appropriately so. The dead were everywhere. Then Dr. Andelin spoke.

“My wife, Cora, was driving home from work. They think she was blinded—temporarily—by the sun reflecting off the snow. It’s like that sometimes up here on the bench, you know. She drifted into the guardrail. Her car landed upside down in the creek bed. She . . . drowned.”