Page 29 of Spooked
“I still want to see it before you pull it down,” Maeve states firmly.
“Well, you can’t. I forbid it. I’m going to the developers’ office now and insist that they start the demolition straight away.”
“Siobhan, Aunt, please. I won’t even go inside. Just let me see it for old time’s sake. I’ve got so many memories there.”
“You’ve had those memories for fifteen years, yet you’ve never come back before. I don’t understand your sudden interest now. I won’t wait. That house is coming down.”
Not if I’ve got anything to do with it.A word in Bullet’s ear will mean the work will go to the back of the queue. Whatever reason Maeve has for wanting to see inside, I won’t let her lose the chance. The old woman’s voice is grating on me. My immediate dislike for her puts me on her niece’s side.
“Siobhan…”
“I wish you well.”
With that blatantly insincere comment, there’s the sound of wood hitting the floor. Mouse and I step back and take poses as if we’ve just closed the door to the next room.
An elderly, well-dressed woman with her nose in the air brushes past us without looking us in the eye. A waft of rose water floats in the air as she turns the corner and disappears out of sight.
Stepping through the door of the hospital room, the words spill out of my mouth. “If you want to see the Sullivan House, you can. It’s rickety, but if you’re careful, it’s not toodangerous…” My words trail off as I catch sight of the woman in the bed. I heard her speak, but seeing her in the flesh? My voice trembles. “Maeve?” My head starts to spin as a veritable ghost meets my eyes. I feel Mouse’s hand on my arm, keeping me upright.
“Who the hell are…you?”
Mouse looks from me to her, then steps forward and takes charge. “Maeve, I’m Mouse,” he tells her. “Your name is Irish?”
Politeness wins over the perplexed expression on her face. “Yes,” she replies to him. Then her eyes narrow on me, her head cocked to one side. Her brow is furrowed as she takes me in from head to toe, and she swallows with an audible gulp. I’m thinking she’s recognised me, but then she shakes her head as if to clear it and asks, “Do I know you? There’s something about you that’s familiar.” There’s a quaver in her voice.
What the hell?Her question makes my palms sweat. She’s been in the hospital ever since I was injured. “We’ve never met,” I refute sharply. That’s the truth. Definitely not in the flesh.
Mouse squeezes his fingers on my arm that he still holds, as he murmurs softly, “You haven’t met in this world.”
Instead of scoffing at his enigmatic statement, Maeve looks bewildered. After examining him carefully, she asks, “You’re Native American?”
“Half-Navajo,” he confirms.
Pressing a button, she raises the top of the bed. Examining her for a moment, I realise how different she looks from the version of her I met in my dreams. Her face is pale and wan, her hair not so glossy and sleek.She’s only just out of a coma,I remind myself. I suspect I looked no better when I first awoke. A wave of sympathy goes through me.We shouldn’t be here bothering her.But then, how am I to get the answers to what’s wrong in my head? Brain damage can’t summon up someone who’s real, can it?
“I don’t understand why you’re here.” Her eyes flit to Mouse, but as they focus on me, I see the tinge of concern.
Uninvited, Mouse pulls up a chair by the bed. “You might think it bizarre that two strangers have come to visit you, but we mean you no harm. Hound,” he points to me, “has visited the Sullivan House.”
His explanation does nothing to reassure her. She turns paler if that’s possible and breathes in a sharp breath. “You were in the house.”
It’s a statement, not a question.Am I not mad? Was she really there too?There’s something about her reaction that makes me believe there’s something she’s not saying.
Mouse continues gently, “Your aunt instructed our club’s construction company to make an assessment of the Sullivan House. She might try to order us to demolish it, but we make up our own minds about our jobs. We overheard her talking to you.” He looks completely unashamed at his admission. “We figured out that a delay, at least, would be beneficial to you.”
Her focus returns to him. “Why would you do that? You don’t know me.”
“I know you’ve got connections to the place. Do you want to tell us why it’s so important that you go back to it?”
Her eyes still fixed on him, her words come out as if in a trance. “I lived there. I left here when Emerald, my grandmother, died fifteen years back. I couldn’t believe she’d left me nothing, but I couldn’t fight my aunt. I felt betrayed and never, ever, wanted to return to Tucson. It was bittersweet. I had good memories of living with my grandmother, but those were overpowered by the resentment I’d felt. I put it behind me and moved on with my life. Until I started having dreams. Something was calling me back.” Her head suddenly shakes. She breaks eye contact, and raises her fingers to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I’ve no idea why I spilled all that.”
Mouse leans toward her and pulls her hand away from her eyes. Once he’s again gained her attention, he jerks his head in my direction. “Hound’s had a vision that he met you in that house.”
As she stiffens, Mouse pulls back, putting distance between them. Maeve moves her head side to side once more. She opens her mouth, then presses her lips together. Lips I so fondly remember touching mine. Her eyes close briefly, then she reopens them. She takes a deep breath, swallows, but if she was going to say something, the words don’t come out.
Was she there in her dreams, or were they mine?She looks so damn familiar. She’s definitely the woman I saw in my head. Could the figment of my brain injury really be lying in front of me? And I didn’t just see her,I’d fingered her sexually for fuck’s sake. Felt her orgasm beneath my fingers.Noticing her face has gone from pale to bearing two large patches of red on both cheeks, I wonder if she’s having the same recollection. Nah, I’m the one suffering hallucinations.
“You couldn’t have seen me,” she dismisses, with a nervous and forced laugh. “I’ve been unconscious in this bed for weeks.” But something about the way she says it leaves me with that doubt. As does the fact that she doesn’t question my sanity. “Tell me, if you went there, is it as bad as my aunt said? Was it dangerous to visit?”
