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“Yes, but he was at work most of the time, but he came to my room one night and called me down for dinner,” I reply. “What’s this about?”
“Think back,” he says with more bite, his fingers tightening around my shoulders.
I wriggle within his grip, trying to dislodge his digits, but they’re more tenacious than the claws of a predator with freshly caught prey. When his eyes harden and bore into mine again, my breath catches.
He looks at me like I’m the unhinged one. In a moment, I expect him to channel Myra and ask when I last took my meds.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Tell me what you remember about your father.”
The urgency in his tone sends a shiver down my spine. “He runs an international adoption agency.”
“Its name?”
“Happy Hearts.”
“Has anyone other than you seen him recently?”
My blood runs cold. “You think I’m hallucinating him?”
“We checked the property records for the house on Alderney Hill, as well as all the vehicles parked there. Everything is registered to Melonie Crowley. There’s no record of Lyle.”
My mind reels, struggling to accept his claims. I want to deny them, push them away. Mom or Dr. Saint would have mentioned something if I hallucinated an entire father.
“But he exists. Maybe he isn’t registered for tax purposes.”
“Or he could be like my father, who’s too deeply involved in criminal activities to want to leave a trace.”
I swallow hard, my breath turning shallow. The backs of my eyes sting with tears. “My memories are so jumbled, and I only recently stopped taking my medication. Can you just… give me a minute? Please?”
He nods, and I can’t bear to see the pity shining in his eyes. Dad isn’t a figment of my imagination. I remember seeing him while I was recovering from the accident. He used to visit my bedside and stroke my hair.
When I had to go home after Mr. Lawson died, Mom confined me to my room. Dad would come in sometimes while she was out with her personal trainer, demanding to know why I would sleep with a teacher.
Years later, he stood beside Mom when they burst into my dorm at Alderney State University, although she did most of the talking. They drove me straight to 13 Parisii Drive, where Dr. Saint made her first house call.
But why would Xero lie about something I could disprove with a few searches?
“Xero…” I swallow hard. “I don’t know what’s even real anymore.”
He pulls me into a hug, but the warmth of his body offers little comfort in the cold suspicion that my delusions might go deeper than the occasional sighting of Mr. Lawson, Sparrow and Wilder, whom I don’t even remember from my past.
“Don’t fret, little ghost. We’ll find out the truth tonight.”
EIGHTY-FOUR
AMETHYST
Xero takes me down a narrow passageway, its walls made of femur bones and dotted with the occasional human skull. Any other time, I’d be freaked out at the sight of so much death, but I’m now anxious as hell about my state of mind.
How the hell could I have hallucinated an entire father? Looking back, it was always Mom who conducted meetings with the school, and it was Mom who drove me to college. Dad’s involvement in my life has always been distant because he’s always been busy with work.
Right?
Xero’s gaze burns the side of my face. “What are you thinking, little ghost?”
I lick my dry lips. “If my father didn’t exist, then what about the photo album and his younger brother, my Uncle Clive?”
