Bad Juju (34 page)

She went inside, cleaned up the broken dishes, and hugged her son.  His body was stiff, much like a bag of dog food, but she just wanted the human contact.  He did not pull away and that was enough.

“Please come back, Henry,” Jessica cried.  His eyes were vacant, emotionless.  Maybe the flash she had witnessed never happened.

***

Lucien shook his head in disappointment as Jake sped away from Henry’s house. 
Jessica refused his help, claiming he was evil.  On some level
he
admired her for seeing through him.  She was above it all, seeing evil
as absolute while o
pposing it with
great
conviction.  If only he could have had that kind of clarity.

Before she threw him out of her house, Lucien got Henry to drink an elixir of sorts, a wake-me-up beverage.  He swore he saw a flash of personality, maybe
wickedness.  He sprinkled gris-gris for protection.  Henry’s family would need it after he was fully awake.  Lucien surmised Henry’s mental state to Jake on the car ride home.

“Jessica mentioned a psychiatrist.  She really has no idea what’s inside of him,” Lucien said.

“Is he a zombie?” Jake asked.  “Certainly acts like one.”

“Maybe.  Or else he’s possessed.  Possession I can fix,” Lucien said.

“Possessed by a
loa
?  A dead person’s spirit?  A demon?” Jake asked.

“Probably a demon or
djab
.  And hopefully only one.  Could you call and check on his…condition?”  Jake nodded and dropped him by his trailer.  He rushed home to be with Leah who he was not so discreetly playing house with now that Pete was out of the way.

***

The next day, Lucien saw a police car in Ed
Carillo’s
driveway.  John, Ed’s son, and Ed
sat
outside with Starbuck coffees that John must have brought over.  Lucien had met John numerous times and judged him to be a good son and an honest cop.  Curious
about
the policeman’s thoughts, he got dressed and walked over to Ed’s, attempting to get an invite into their little bullshit session.  He was in luck.

“Hello Lucien. 
Wanna
join us.  Just chewing the fat.  Lots to talk about these days,” Ed offered.

“I was hoping you’d ask.  Hello John, always a pleasure.  Quite a busy year for all of Hayward’s Finest.  Glad to see you,” Lucien said with a smile.  He approached John with an extended hand.  John shook it and partially stood.  “Please sit.  I’ll just grab a chair.”  Lucien lifted a plastic one off of a nearby stack.

“Beautiful morning,” Ed said.  “John was just filling me in about the teacher. 
Remember, last day of school? 
She’s still in a coma.”

“So sad.  Any leads?  Who could have done such a thing to her?  Or to the girl, Brittany?” Lucien asked.  He had his own suspicions, blaming himself for setting the stage for high school drama.

“I wish.  I was telling my dad the detectives haven’t gotten any encouraging lab results back.  Whoever was responsible did a
helluva
cleaning job.  We thought it might
be the girl’s boyfriend, but he had a solid alibi.  Poor boy has his own problems, catatonic.  Isn’t he one of Jake’s friends?” John asked.

“Henry.  And yes, he’s Jake’s only friend,” Lucien replied.

“You’re his friend, too,” Ed said.

“Maybe, but I’m more like a father or grandfather.  Who we kidding?  At my age, more like a great-great grandfather,” Lucien said.  They all laughed even though it was true.  “Jake’s real dad left.  Who knows where he is.  And his uncle, well…he was not a good role model.”

“He’s still missing.  You think he’s dead?” asked John.  Lucien guessed John was fishing instead of gossiping.

“Who knows and who cares.  One less asshole to worry about.  I take that back.  Hopefully, for all of them, he’s dead,” Ed scowled.  “He was some piece of work.”

“Just because someone isn’t a good person, doesn’t mean they deserve to die.  Maybe he was murdered?” John proposed.  “Then it’s a police matter…”

“
Yada
,
yada
,
yada
.  Like it matters.  He can burn in Hell now, or wait and then burn later. You
wanna
hear something creepy?  I shouldn’t gossip, especially to the cops,” Ed chuckled, “but a couple of days ago I saw Jake and Leah carrying groceries.  He put his hand on her ass, I swear.  I know because I was looking at it the whole time.”

“Looking at his hand?” Lucien asked.

“No, her ass.  She’s got a great one.  Anyway, she didn’t seem to mind the kid touching her, like they had something going on,” Ed said.

“He’s seventeen,” Lucien said, trying to act as if it wasn’t important.

“Yeah.  And she’s what?  Twenty?  Twenty-one?  Wearing those outfits, dancing at The Dollhouse…She’s every boy’s wet dream.  Maybe he took care of Pete for good,” John suggested.

“Oh no.  He was terrified of his uncle.  And Pete was so much bigger and stronger.  If you’re implying Jake had…” Lucien defended.

“Relax!” barked Ed.  “We’re just talking.  What if she, dressed in one of her skimpy get-ups, put him up to it?   Or what if she did it herself?  Huh?”

“It had to piss her off, you know, that whole thing with her brother.  Pete was in the middle of it.  It was his gun that he gave T.J.  Had to be a set up,” added John.

“Yes, but we all know it’s just as reasonable to believe he took off.   Maybe he found someone better or richer to mooch off of,” Lucien said.

“Maybe.  I’ve seen more strange things this past year than I ever had throughout my twenty-six years of service.  I know they’re all related.  Not sure how or if I’ll ever prove it, but it’s no coincidence your boy Jake and his weird friend are connected to all of it,” John said.

“They’re good kids,” Lucien said.

“Can’t vouch for Henry, but he seems like a good kid.  And Jake, we all know what a sweetheart that boy is.  He’s got a heart as big as the sun.  So helpful.  A real gift around here,” Ed said.

“And he deserves so much better,” Lucien said.

Suddenly, Lucien’s head felt heavy and he had a difficult time concentrating on the rest of what John and Ed were saying, but politely nodded as if he did.  He kept having visions of a woman he had never met, but somehow knew her name was Mona.

“She would have taken me back.  She loved me,” Lucien blurted involuntarily.

“Lucien, what or who are you talking about?” Ed asked.  His confused look made Lucien realize his thoughts were said aloud.

“Mona.  If only she hadn’t thrown me out.  None of this would have happened,” Lucien said. 
Oh no, T.J. has control of my tongue.

“Is Mona your ex-wife?” asked John.  He looked at his father and shrugged.

“Are you having a stroke?  Should I call 911?  John can take you to the ER,” Ed said with urgency.

Lucien might have lost control of his speech, but he still had control of his body.  He stood up and shook his head.  With every ounce of concentration, he squeaked out a ‘no, I’m fine,’ and then waved goodbye and walked home.

Once alone in his bedroom, he looked into the mirror and studied his face.  His wrinkles and age spots were once again visible.  His body reverted back to painful arthritis while his mind was being taken over by T.J.’s
ti
-bon-
ange
.  He didn’t have much time left to make things right.  Jake was his only hope.

Chapter 40

A good cry later, Jessica quit feeling sorry for herself and her son. 
Later on in the late afternoon
she drove Henry to his next appointment with Dr. Gold.  His psychiatric sessions were uneventful, bordering on a complete waste of time. 
Had her insurance not have paid most of his four hundred dollar hour fee, she would have terminated his services within the first week.  From what she had witnessed, his treatments were almost laughable, but she promised Tom she would keep an open mind to his modern therapy for the remainder of the summer.

Dr. Gold’s technique solely involved Eye Movement Desensitization Response or EMDR.  From what Jessica could ascertain, the treatment involved the doctor tapping and moving his finger while the patient listened to headphones with different recorded noises and watched flashing images.

Jessica shuttled her son inside of Dr. Gold’s office, sat down in the waiting room, and stared much like Henry did all day long.  Moira, his secretary and mother, tried making idle conversation, but Jessica would not turn her head to acknowledge the woman.  She no longer cared about social etiquette, resigned to a life revolved around Henry.  Self-pity
came back faster than the same five pounds she kept on losing
.

“Mrs. Novak, I have something to show you.” Dr. Gold insisted as he stuck his head into the waiting room.
  He waved her into his office.

She walked in slowly
and saw Henry sitting and staring. 

“See this.  It’s a metronome.  I used it on my last patient, right before Henry’s appointment.  It was sitting on the coffee table, and I was about to put it away.  For no particular reason, I fiddled with it, and Henry reacted.”  Dr. Gold handed her the colorful, hand-painted metronome.  She used one when she was a little girl during piano lessons.  They were helpful in keeping the timing of a song.

“This is an old one.  It has the ticking hand that goes side to side.  They are now made much differently, without the hand,” she said.

“I know, but I like the ticking sound this one makes and the visual stimulation of the wand or hand going side to side.  Anyway, I wound it up and set it in front of Henry.  His eyes watched the hand go back and forth.”

“And the significance of this is…”

“As of this moment, I’m moving away from EMDR and concentrating on hypnotherapy.  Now watch him.”  Dr. Gold increased the timing of the metronome.  Henry’s eyes followed every movement of the wand and he began to sigh.

“Did you hear that?” Jessica said.

“Yes.  That’s the first sound he’s made since we started treatment.”

As much as Jessica detested the arrogant doctor, she couldn’t help but get excited.  “Oh Doc, could this hypnotherapy actually work?  I thought people used it to quit smoking or lose weight.”  Her temporary surge of hope deflated as Henry quit sighing and watched the hand of the metronome.

“I’m not sure of anything anymore.  I’m wondering if he’s already hypnotized and has been since he was found back in Haiti.  Maybe post-traumatic stress is a false diagnosis.”

“Doctor, this all sounds a little bit out there.  And not just him being hypnotized.  A Haitian man who is an acquaintance of my son came over this morning and claimed he was possessed.”

“Possession is just an ancient form of hypnosis.  Henry’s autism makes him more susceptible than you or me.  His mind is clear, not cluttered with the problems of life.  Think about it.  The repetitive drumbeats, the metronome…They both are used to bring one into a state of hypnosis.  Your Haitian friend is really not that crazy, just centuries behind.”

“So then try it.  We’ve got plenty of time,” Jessica urged.

The doctor wound up the metronome and allowed Henry to watch it for a minute.  “Henry, you’re eyes are getting heavy like cement.  Put your head back and relax.  Listen to my voice.”  Henry abided.  “Let’s go back a couple of months, June thirteenth, the day you left your campsite.  Take yourself back.  You were helping your dad and sister build a public restroom.  You abruptly left.  Where did you go?  Picture yourself walking…you’re alone.”

Henry sat motionless with closed eyes.  Dr. Gold checked his pulse.  “Slow, but normal.”  Turning back to Henry, he said, “You met some people.  You were cut, bruised.  Go back.”

Henry’s eyes opene
d and he eerily stared right in
to the doctor’s cold brown eyes.

Without flinching, the doctor continued asking questions related to the Haiti mission.  Henry’s eyes shifted to the wall.  The same empty stare returned.  Several minutes passed and the breakthrough was gone. 

“Our time is now up.  Don’t get discouraged.  What happened here today was huge.”  He turned to his mother and ordered, “Cancel all of tomorrow’s appointments and ask Dr.
Resnick
to come in the morning, preferably nine o’clock.  Can you get Henry here by then?” 

“We’ll be here,” she promised.  On the ride home back to Hayward, Jessica watched her son through the rearview mirror.  Nothing.  She refused to get excited about this supposed breakthrough.  Henry was as catatonic as when they found him.  She reported the news to Tom and Natalie over dinner.

By ten o’clock, she led Henry to bed and brought her laptop up to her room.  She was wired.  Tomorrow’s appointment with Dr. Gold prompted her to research multiple articles about hypnotherapy.  Like most psychiatric treatments, some doctors found it useful while others believed it to be a waste of time.  Although Dr. Gold had as much warmth as the Tundra, he was considered brilliant among his colleagues.  Dr.
Resnick
, the doctor he requested, had an even more impressive Google profile.