Page 103 of The Eleventh Hour

I shift in my seat and catch movement in the corner of the room. A wisp of black reaches up and brushes over the bookcase, knocking one of the books closer to the edge. It teeters but doesn’t fall. How is this ghost here in the light? What am I seeing right now?

“I want to help you,” I say hesitantly.

“Then tell me something, anything.”

I frantically search my mind. “Louis liked to wear expensive clothes. He was really obsessive with it. He would get mad at me if I wore anything that made me look cheap.” It’s a lie, another one of the millions I’ve told. Louis didn’t give a shit about clothes or what I wore. I could’ve worn a potato sack, and he would have still wanted me.

Sparrow frantically writes the information down. “All right, all right. Let’s call it a night. I realise this was a tough session.” He puts his folder down and gives me a tight smile. “Go home, Jackie, but think about what else you can give me. We need to find a way to save you.”

I nod and stand up. “Thank you, Dr Sparrow.”

“Don’t forget, Jackie, I’m on your side, the only person who believes you. I alone can keep you from landing behind bars. You just need to trust me.”

“I do,” I whisper, trying to put my conviction behind it.

He smiles, and I think he believes me. The black wisp sweeps the book to the floor. I take the chance to rush to the door and leave.

I rush into the bathroom and just make it to the toilet in time to empty my stomach. I can’t seem to stop. The pressure, the fear that is riding me, won’t end. After a couple of minutes, I come out of the toilet and rinse my mouth.

My reflection shows a girl that looks shell-shocked, sickly, wounded. I hate it. I push away and open the door but let it swing almost closed without moving.

“What did she say?”

I don’t recognise the voice; I mean, it sounds familiar, but a lot of people are familiar to me here. But it’s the way they say it that freaks me out. I stiffen and edge closer, leaning around the door, but all I can see is the broad shoulders of an adult man in a black coat. It could be anyone.

I listen with my mouth slightly ajar as Sparrow runs through my appointment, giving up details about what I said, how I looked, and his own judgement and opinion. The person listens without comment.

“Look, I think it would be best if we can lock her up,” Sparrow complains.

“Not yet. We just need to get her to talk. Once she starts, we can get our plan in motion and start really making some headway.”

Plan? What plan? What does that mean? Who is this guy?

“He’s not going to stop until he’s caught.” The man says, and I note his voice is bemused. “She can help you. You’ll be huge. A big star psychologist who helped track down the Black Dahlia Killer.”

“She knows more than she’s letting on. Those guys she’s hanging out with, I’ve seen them at the trials. They had a brother who went missing,” Sparrow says in disgust. “Do you really think she’s got the answers?”

“Have you asked her about them?”

“Not yet. I figured it was more important to get information on Louis. But River told us that she is living with them at the moment. Apparently, the stalker is getting more active. River said he found a letter and a phone with lots of texts.”

My body turns to ice. River is talking to my shrink? No, there has to be a mistake. I don’t believe it. River wouldn’t do that to me. Maybe he thinks he’s just helping. I feel sick, so sick, so cold.

The man laughs. “Do what you need to do, but don’t put her away, not yet. She can still help us. Then you and I will be famous.”

I realise their conversation is wrapping up and slip out the door. Sweat beads on my forehead as I tiptoe across the reception and slip out of the building. It’s dark, and a hand grips my wrist and pulls me into the shadows between the buildings.

I gasp, trembling. “Shit, G, I mean, I don’t even know how I’m going to get out of this anymore.” Tears fill my eyes. “Where have you been?”

His mouth presses against the corner of mine, and I turn into it, gasping as his tongue twines with mine. I love this hallucination, this ghost. I don’t even care. His arms tighten around me, and then he eases back. A flash of car lights, and he’s gone. I bite back a sob and turn into the alley, finding a path through the buildings to get me to the block behind this one where Dane is waiting.

I consider Sparrow and his actions. Is he really trying to find Louis? Could he be the copycat? He knows enough about it…but all wrong details. Maybe as a psychiatrist, he’s trained to be able to tell the truth even when people lie to him.

A cold chill runs through me. The thought that Sparrow is playing me, so well, is terrifying.

Dane lifts a hand and slowly lowers it again as I rush over to him and slip into the passenger seat.

“Get us out of here,” I whisper harshly.

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