CHAPTER NINE
After our confrontation with Spook Factory was over, everyone seemed too aggro and annoyed to be cooped up in the apartment. Jenn decided she was going to go to the gym and invited me to go along with her.
“No thanks,” I had told her. Going to a gym, with Jenn…I’d rather have a lobotomy.
“Are you sure? You could use the exercise,” she said, stretching in her Lycra gear in front of me.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“For endorphins,” she smiled sweetly. “They’ll make you feel better.”
Uh huh.
So she went on her merry way to burn whatever fat she had left off of her while Dex did the opposite and had a nap.
“Can you watch Fat Rabbit and make sure he’s not shitting in anyone’s shoes?” Dex asked as he stood in his bedroom doorway. He looked strangely wane and haggard, a sudden change from earlier. A nap would do him good.
“Of course,” I said walking into my room and nervously eyeing Fat Rabbit, who was staring at me with devious bug eyes, like he already had shit in someone’s shoes and was just waiting for that person to find out.
He closed his door and I was left to my own devices. I went on the computer for a bit, checking my emails and making sure Miss Anonymous wasn’t leaving any more scathing comments on the blog posts. To my surprise and relief, she hadn’t said anything lately.
I tweeted a few things about being in Seattle and going on a hunting expedition that evening, even though I wanted to put a few potshots in there about G.J. and Annie. But I wasn’t about to start a Twitter war with those people.
When I got bored of the internet, I entertained Fat Rabbit by tossing a chew toy around for him in the room, not wanting his loud nails to go clattering across the apartment and waking up Dex. And when Fat Rabbit got bored of that, I started picking through Dex’s bookshelf again.
I started with a coffee table book of Led Zeppelin and skimmed through a few rock biographies before settling on a heavy book called “The Devil’s Death Metal,” which seemed to be about a female music journalist in the early 1970s and her supernatural involvement with a metal band. At least, that’s what the blurb on the back said.
But when I opened the book to read the first few pages, my eyes nearly fell out of my head.
The pages were all glued together and a hollow square was cut out in the middle. There were four half-full bottles of prescription medicine inside.
I took one bottle out and examined it. I had no idea what the gobbledygook medicinal name was, but it was prescribed by a Doctor Anderson for a Mr. Declan Foray.
I looked around me warily. Fat Rabbit was lying down on the bed and looking at me like I was doing something wrong. But I wasn’t. Was I? I mean, Dex was storing – or hiding – bottles of medicine in a hollowed-out book.
I remembered back to when we first met; he had mentioned that Jenn never knew he was on medication. I thought that had been a joke but it was now apparent that he had been serious. It boggled my mind. How on earth was Dex able to keep this a secret from her, and for heaven’s sake, why? She was his girlfriend, the one person who actually had the right to know if her boyfriend was on medication or not.
And four bottles, too! I examined all of them. Some were horse-pill size, some were tiny yellow tablets. And while two bottles were prescribed by Dr. Anderson, the other two were from a Dr. Houston and a Dr. Bains.
I gently put the bottles back and closed the book cover, holding it in my lap. I didn’t know what to think. Why was Dex on so many pills? What else was wrong with him? It couldn’t just be this so-called bipolar disorder, could it?
“Perry?” Dex called out. Fat Rabbit leaped off the bed and I leaped to my feet and hid the book behind my back just as he appeared at the door, looking all ruffle-haired and bleary-eyed.
“Dex!” I exclaimed, trying to not look suspicious. It didn’t fool him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, moving his head over to get a better look at what I had behind my back.
“Nothing,” I replied swiftly and stepped backward. I smiled while adjusting the book behind my back, hiding it better.
But as I did so, my finger caught the edge of the book and the cover opened.
All four pill bottles fell out and bounced onto the carpet behind me.
Oh, shit.
Dex’s face crumpled in horror first. Then stealthily switched to pure, visceral anger. You wouldn’t like Dex when he’s angry.
“What the f*ck are you doing!?” he cried out and lunged toward me, grabbing my arm roughly and snatching the book out my hands. He pushed me over until I fell butt-first onto the bed and scooped up the pill bottles from the floor.
“I didn’t mean to-”
He straightened up, clutching his pills to his dark grey T-shirt, his eyes wild. “What, are you f*cking snooping through my stuff?!”
I got off the bed and squared up against him, not about to be intimidated. “I wasn’t snooping through your f*cking stuff, you idiot! I was looking through your stupid books; how the hell was I supposed to know you’ve got f*cking drugs hidden in them? What the f*ck is that about?”
“Never mind,” he sneered, and turned to leave the room with his precious cargo. I grabbed his forearm and dug my nails into his bare flesh, my turn to be rough.
He stopped and looked at the arm in surprise, then at me. “Ow! Let go of me, you wench.”
“You f*cking tell me why you’re hiding prescription meds in a book!”
“It’s none of your business, Perry!”
“It’s totally my business. I’m your partner. We’ve been through this, Dex, I mean, come on. I need to know what the f*ck you’re on. I was fine with your whole bipolar thing or whatever the hell is wrong with you, but why the hell do you need four different medicines from three different doctors and why the f*ck are you hiding it in a hollowed-out book?!”
He jerked slightly, taken aback. He eyed my arm again, more calmly this time, and I removed my nails from his arm. They left crescent indents but hadn’t broken the skin. Finally he looked at me.
“Why are you so mad?”
“Because!” I yelled. I peered at the doorway, where Fat Rabbit was watching us. The dog was shaking. I closed my eyes, took back my hand and let out a deep breath. “Because, I just am. I feel so unprepared about this whole mental institute thing, you haven’t given me anything to go on…”
“There’s a thing called Google, you know. You could look up Riverside yourself. I don’t have to do everything for you.”
I opened my eyes and shook my head. “That’s not the point. It’s because you’re being so evasive about this whole thing, about the fact that you were in an institute yourself. And you’re not talking to me about it.” >
Dex threw his head back in exasperation. “Oh my God. Did it ever occur to you, Perry, that maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to talk about what happened to me in there? It’s a f*cking mental institute. You have no f*cking idea what that means.”
Guilt kicked at me from inside. “OK, you’re right, I don’t. I just want to…”
“Want to what?” he challenged, looking me deep in the eyes.
“I want you to trust me.”
“But I do trust you,” he said quietly.
“Then tell me about these,” I said, pointing at the pills he was still clutching to his chest with one arm.
“Some other time.”
“No, now.”
“No,” he argued. He put his free hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. “It’s a long story and Jenn’s going to come back here any minute.”
“OK, well at least tell me why you’re hiding them in a book. Hiding them from your girlfriend.”
He sighed. I was being stubborn, but then again so was he. He picked up the book from the bed, opened the cover and placed the bottles inside. He put the book back on the shelf along with the other books I had been flipping through, sat down on the bed and made me sit down beside him.
“OK,” he said quietly, and leaned his head toward mine, our faces close. “I hide them in there because Jenn doesn’t know I’m on medication…still.”
“Still? So she knew at one point?”
“Yes.”
“And she thought you got better, or..?”
“Yes.”
“And did you?”
He scratched at his sideburn and gave me a sideways glance before carefully saying, “In a way.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s hard to explain. And no, I don’t have time to explain it now. But the point is, Jenn doesn’t know I’m on meds, certainly doesn’t know I’m taking this many different kinds, and to answer your question before you ask it, no, she doesn’t know I was in a mental institute.”
“How can you just lie to her like that?”
He shrugged. “It’s easy. And I’m not lying, I’m just omitting some stuff.”
“Would you tell her the truth if she asked?”
I watched him carefully. He pursed his lips, thinking it over. He better not think about lying to me.
“No, I wouldn’t,” he finally said. “I would lie. Because the past is the past and it doesn’t concern her in any way.”
“But it concerns you, so by default it should concern her.”
“You’d think that…”
I looked down at my hands and started playing with my nails. “It concerns me.”
“I know it does,” he said gently. “But you’re different, Perry. You’re very, very different. That’s why I…”
He stopped himself.
“What?” I prodded.
His lips twitched. “That’s why I’m glad you’re my partner.”
“Oh.”
I looked around the room, at the posters on the walls and the rock photos and the guitars and the weird books. None of this made any sense to me.
“How did you two even start going out?” I asked, thinking out loud, not really wanting an answer.
He shrugged again and wiped his chin quickly. “Honestly? She was hot, good in bed, and a bit of a bitch.”
Ouch. I could see he was telling the truth. It was a very guy thing to say, but it still stung. I covered it up, though, and raised my brow at him.
“Was a bit of a bitch?”
He smiled, sucked in his lip again, but didn’t say anything.
“Sorry,” I apologized, though I wasn’t really sorry.
“It’s deserved, kiddo,” he said and patted me lightly on the back. “I’m sorry she’s so prickly with you. Don’t take anything she says or does seriously, OK?”
That was way easier said than done. But I gave him a small smile back and told him that his secret was safe with me. I was good at keeping them.
~~
At 4 p.m., when the city skyline grew a dark grey with the threat of night and impending rain clouds, Dex and I piled our gear and equipment into his car and piloted off toward the Riverside Mental Institute.
After our discussion in the den, Jenn came back from her workout and I hopped on the computer to Google the shit out of the institute. Though I hated him for saying it, Dex was right, and there was no reason why I couldn’t be prepared.
The institute was built at the turn of the century to take care of the Pacific Northwest’s finest, most depressed people. I guess they had something to do with the first research into Seasonal Affective Disorder, and if there is any place where SAD affects most of the population, it’s probably here. I know I get more moody and have more panic attacks when the sun disappears and the gloomy winter clouds park themselves over Portland.
According to the official website, the institute was spread out over a massive acreage, housed three huge brick buildings and a spattering of cottages where the wealthiest patients would stay and rest until their health improved. The photos online were scans from about 80 years ago, showing patients playing crochet and bridge. Not your average mental hospital. At least, not on the surface.
Of course, like most mental hospitals in the country, only one building is still operational, with funding being cut drastically over the years.
But it wasn’t all just about curing the blues for wealthy Seattleites. The smallest brick building had been used as a sort of holding station for some of the most heinous criminals back in the day where they would undergo tests to see whether they could plead insanity or not. Naturally this was the place Dex was interested in exploring. The building, called Block C, had only been officially run for 20 years before a few accidents shut it down. Turns out a mental hospital wasn’t always the most high-security place to hold serial killers and the like.
Tonight, though, we probably wouldn’t be allowed to wander around the supposedly haunted Block C (and that was fine with me), though there were some weird stories about even the main building, which still housed mild mental cases. Regardless, I felt a bit more prepared than I had earlier, especially since Dex kept saying how we were just going to interview Dr. Hasselback and that was it. It put my mind at ease – as much as that was possible.
Back to the car. Abbey Road had picked up from where we last left it and we were treated to the moody, yearning sounds of “I Want You.” Though I tried not to listen to the lyrics, I knew they were expressing something I wouldn’t dare admit to Dex, and it was making me uncomfortable in my seat. I needed to drown the words out before they melted into that jagged, tumultuous ending.
“So, thanks for always driving us around,” I said to Dex after he slammed on his breaks before going through a fast-changing yellow light. I said it to just say something.
“No problem. We don’t have much choice, do we?”
“Well I guess I could stick you on the back of Putt-Putt,” I teased.
He shook his head and said adamantly, “No way. I’d be off that thing in two seconds.”
“Oh come on. I’ll give you a lesson while I’m here; you’ll pick it up in no time.”
“I don’t think I’d be good at it.”
I smacked him lightly on the arm. “Declan Foray, you are good at absolutely everything. And besides, if a klutz like me can ride a motorbike, then anyone can ride a motorbike. It’s more like a scooter anyway. Come on, I’ll teach you.”
His eyes slinked to the side and he smiled slyly. “We’ll see.”
The light turned green and we went through the intersection, heading out of the city and into the darkness. Light drizzle began to fall. Dex peered at the signs on the side of the road. “Can you do me a favor and get the map out of the glove compartment?”
I leaned forward and pushed the latch. The compartment was crammed full of junk but I eventually found the map book. And a rectangle box that said EpiPen on it.
I took out the map and the box and flashed the latter at Dex. “Is this yours?”
He took a quick look and nodded.
“What are you allergic to?”
“Bees,” he said grimly. “Wasps, hornets, et cetera.”
The image of the wasps floating on the sea of blood flashed across my mind.
“What happens if you get stung?” I asked carefully.
“If I don’t get that EpiPen in 20 minutes, I die.”
The way he said it so casually rattled me. “You…die? Is it that bad?”
“Yep.”
“Why the hell do you keep it in the car? It should be on you at all times!”
“I keep one in the car and one at home. But it’s winter, bee season is over. Can you look up the Issaquah area of the map? Please?”
I did so, but still thought about Dex’s allergy. He could die in 20 minutes if this wee injection didn’t make it into his system in time. I did not like those odds. Not one bit.
Then I thought about the scorpions we encountered in Rudy’s hogan while we were in Red Fox. The image of Rudy made me sad. We still didn’t know what happened to him but it was apparent that he was never coming back, and the scorpions confused me.
“What about the scorpions? In Red Fox. They were stinging us. Could they have killed you too?”
He gave me a funny look. “I wasn’t sure. I was freaking out a bit there until I realized they weren’t real. I don’t think scorpion venom is as deadly to me as bees, but then again, I’ve never asked.”
Freaking out a bit. That must have been an understatement.
“When did you find out?”
“The map, Perry,” he said, tapping it with his hand. “Need to exit on Chesterman Road.”
I sighed at his evasiveness and looked at where we were and where we needed to go. “It’s the third exit coming up.”
I got that Dex didn’t like to get into any situations that made him feel vulnerable, so I wasn’t surprised when he switched the subject. I was surprised at the subject matter though.
“So how did your date go the other night?” he asked without a hint of jealousy. A hint of jealousy would have been nice.
“With Brock?”
He snorted. “Yes, Brock. What a f*cking name. Of course Brock, have you been on dates with other guys or something?”
“No,” I answered shortly, not appreciating how incredulous he sounded. “Just Brock.”
“And how did it go?”
“It went well,” I said while trying to figure just how much to tell him. I could make the date seem like more than it was, or I could be honest. I knew which way would give me the much-coveted upper hand.
“Did you f*ck him?”
My mouth dropped open. I edged my body away from him an inch and gave him a look. His vulgarity took me by surprise for once.
“Excuse me?”
He shrugged and kept his eyes on the road, scanning the sides for exit signs. “I’m just asking.”
“Well…God, Dex. That’s really none of your business if I did. Or didn’t.”
“Friends talk about all sorts of things.”
“I don’t ask you about your sex life.”
He looked at me quickly and wiggled one brow, his specialty. “You could. I’d tell you.”
I knew he would. I scrunched up my nose and turned my attention to the road we were pulling onto, Chesterman. “No thanks.”
“I mean, I figured if you could hear us boning last night, it makes it an open conversation topic.”
I couldn’t hear them “boning” last night, I was too busy flipping out because of a dead, mutilated girl in his living room. I think I got off easy in the end.
I slowly shook my head, unable to say anything but “Dex. Just…shut up.”
That lazy shrug again. “Fine. Just making conversation. Sorry your date didn’t work out.”
“Didn’t work out?” I jeered. “Look, just because I didn’t sleep with him-”
“Ah, so you held out! Good girl.”
“Just because I didn’t sleep with him,” I repeated to myself, ignoring him, “doesn’t mean the date didn’t work out. I’m seeing him again next week. And probably again after that.”
OK, I wasn’t sure about that, but I had to say it anyway. It was worth it to see the flinch across his brow, creating momentary broodiness. He was shocked, if only for a moment. Shocked and speechless. And the upper hand was mine.
“Yeah,” I added. “So, again, shut up.”
He chewed on that for a few beats more. Then he said, “That’s…good. I guess you deserve to have some fun too.”
“Yeah,” I said sternly. I attempted to stare him down, which was hard to do when his eyes were on the rainy, dark road ahead. “I do. I deserve to have a lot of fun.”
I wanted to add in an extra bit about taking Rebecca up on her offer about Bradley since Dex seemed to have such a problem with that idea, but I decided that would probably make me look like too much of a slut.
Things were a tad awkward, so I reached for his iPod and started scanning through his gigantic playlist, looking for anything other than The Beatles.
“Wait, what are you putting on? You can’t turn off The Beatles.”
“We’re in Seattle. It’s dark and rainy and I’m pissed off. Can’t we listen to Screaming Trees, Soundgarden, Melvins, anything local?”
“Why are you pissed off?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned and surprised. Sometimes I wondered if Dex actually had any recollection of 90% of the conversations he was involved with. >
I sighed but didn’t answer him and flicked Soundgarden on. We rode in silence for the next ten minutes as Chris Cornell’s wail drowned out conversation. Unfortunately ,the music, combined with the spooky atmosphere and our task at hand, turned me into a little panicky puss by the time we drove up the long, winding driveway lined with rain-laden fir trees that seemed too heavy to stand up straight. We were at Riverside, the mental house of horrors. The sign at the gate said, “Your well being is our well doing.” Worst slogan ever.
Dex pulled the car up into a visitor’s parking spot in front of a massive, overwhelming brick building that looked extra dense and strangely menacing in the dark. It didn’t help that the fluorescent hall lights that shone from all three stories flickered on and off like the light fixtures all had dying bugs in them. Moths, flies, wasps…wasps in blood. Wasps on Dex. Their hard yellow bodies covering him from head to toe.
The image filled my head and I quickly, instinctively, pressed my palm into my forehead. I caught what I was doing and picked up on the strange air in the car. I took my hand away and slowly turned my head to look at Dex. He was leaning against the steering wheel, eyes wide, watching me.
“We’re here…” he eked out slowly in a quasi-Poltergeist voice.
I gave him a small smile, knowing the question that was to follow. “Just got a sudden headache.”
“Oh sure you did,” he said in weird mix of good-natured sarcasm. “You know they have pills in there for that.”
I looked again at the building as the rain continued to fall, echoing off the roof of the car. I bet they did have pills in there for that. For everything that ailed us.
Which reminded me…see, I had something planned for tonight. Something that Dex didn’t – and wouldn’t – know about. It would only happen if the circumstances were right but a single feel into the very bottom contents of my bag told me everything was ready. It was a plan that made me feel a bit sick, but it was still a plan.