Hear No (Hidden Evil, #1) (5 page)

“This is good,” Nathan said. “This will be a nice challenge.”

Maggy appeared taken aback. She looked ready to say something but didn’t.

“What do we do when we find the human?” Nathan asked. “A fallen guardian will be hell for us to try to manage.”

“There’s protocol that everyone else follows, and there’s … your way of doing things,” she said.

“You want me to kill the human anchoring the fallen guardian in the human world.”

“Yeah.” She studied him carefully. “You’re not going to turn around and fly back to Arizona, are you?”

Nathan smiled. “You wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t the last resort, and I am not opposed to the idea, which you know from my history. Fighting a fallen guardian to get to its human will be a new experience. I’m looking forward to it.”

“There might be other alternatives. I’ve got my people researching. But, just in case, I wanted to know that we could pull the trigger if needed.”

“I get it. How long before this fallen guardian figures out you’ve got help?” he asked.

Maggy cleared her throat and held up a second cappuccino. “I got gear in the trunk. It’s a few hours drive. We’re doing this part my way.”

He snorted. “You only want me because I have the worst rating in the guide corps and Pedro won’t get rid of me.”

“Duh. You never fail.”

Nathan grinned. “What’s your plan?”

“Break her out this evening. Hide her in my secret hiding spot, not the one Pedro got you, and then some naked reiki.”

“Best plan ever.”

They fell into silence. Maggy put up a GPS that began spouting directions at him. Nathan followed them, pensive. He’d never thought a guardian could fall. He wondered what caused it and if it would take what Maggy was preparing for in order to send the fallen guardian to Hell.

There were alternatives, but they all relied upon the guardian voluntarily going to Hell. Chances were, this fallen guardian wasn’t about to cooperate.

Long ago, before he became a spirit guide, Nathan made a name for himself as a foot soldier in the Imperial Roman armies. He was a sentry with a unique gift that enabled him to access the Other Side in a way no other spirit guide, medium or spiritual healer in history ever had.

It had been a while, but he knew how to kill. He was in the same physical shape he’d been in as a soldier, his body frozen in time while at its peak performance, which he reached at the age of twenty-nine.  He hadn’t aged in three thousand years, and he hadn’t forgotten what the blood of another felt like when it ran across his hands.

Wiser now than when he’d been a grunt, he also understood the value of life much more and in a way that only a spirit guide could. Peering into the depths of someone’s soul was routine work for him. The idea of killing didn’t discourage him from the mission, but he no longer found glory in chalking up the number of dead falling beneath his weapons.

No, death was a serious matter, something Maggy knew as well. If she was asking him to kill an innocent human, it was because she really thought there was no other way to salvage the rest of humanity.

And he wouldn’t hesitate, no matter what he understood now about life and death.

Chapter Five

“Aside from the detour, you drive well for a junior attorney,” Mike told her.

Like being a real attorney would make me a better driver?
Kaylee waited until he stood then rolled her eyes and got out of the car.

Mike was constantly doling out backhanded compliments. She ignored him and opened the trunk to grab her notebook and his briefcase.

In a year, when Kaylee was able to take the bar again, she’d ditch this firm and never look back. She’d failed the first time around, but the firm kept her on as a junior attorney in training. Her internship paid poorly but at least it paid. It was the only reason she dealt with Mike, one of the firm’s three partners.

Carrying his briefcase, Kaylee trailed him up the sidewalk towards the low brick building hedged on three sides by maple and oak trees. Flowers lined the sidewalk and front of the building, and the grass was newly cut, releasing its earthy scent into the sunny fall day.

The setting was serene and unassuming. She glanced up at the sign above the main entrance, noting how even the center’s name was subdued in graceful lettering.

Rosewood Mental Health Rehabilitation Center

It sounded pretty for a nuthouse. She’d never been to such a place and braced herself for a scene out of a horror movie.

The lobby was just as peaceful as the façade. A gurgling waterfall was in one corner, a low mahogany reception desk directly opposite the door and a chic, S-shaped couch ran through the waiting area. It smelled of coffee and something resembling Kaylee’s pumpkin spice lotion.

Mike waited a few feet away from the bright-eyed receptionist, his stoic look one of disinterest, like a rich man waiting for his butler to grab his coat.

He’s so much like my father. Is this why I can’t stand him, or is Mike really a jerk?

“Hi. We’re here from Henry, Jones and Harrison Law Firm,” Kaylee said, smiling at the receptionist. “We have an appointment to interview Dr. Rosewood for a case we’re researching.”

“Of course.” The woman typed something into the computer. “His assistant is on his way down.”

“Thanks.” Kaylee stepped away from the desk to wait. She looked at the doors leading out of the reception area into the depths of the center. A small part of her wondered what was beyond them and if the center would resemble the scary sanatoriums she’d seen in a few horror movies.

She really didn’t want to know. This part of the job made her nervous: going to strangers’ houses and workplaces for depositions or interviews. She’d been to the ghettos in southeast DC one time to many with Mike to feel comfortable anywhere. Dressed in a suit more expensive than her car, Mike always looked the same. Bored, until someone important walked into the room. Then he’d perk up.

Kaylee’s own clothing was conservative, as required by the law firm’s dress code. Black suit dress and pumps. Her only flash of color was the fuchsia scarf and her rings, one amethyst one golden topaz and the third aquamarine.

A form emerged from a side door, a slender young man in a suit.

“Mr. Harrison.” He flashed a smile at Kaylee then Mike.

“I’m Kaylee. This is Michael Harrison the Third, one of the firm’s partners,” Kaylee said, aware of her routine duties to announce Mike like he was royalty.

“Pleasure. I’m Evan,” the assistant said, shaking her hand. “Dr. Rosewood is expecting you, Mr. Harrison.” He shook Mike’s hand then motioned for them to follow.

Evan led them through a hallway of offices to an elevator. He tried to make small talk with Mike, but it didn’t work. Kaylee stepped in, knowing Mike didn’t rate assistants the time of day.

A few minutes later, they emerged onto the third floor in an open area lined on one side by a glass wall. A second receptionist sat at a smaller desk. She smiled when they entered.

Evan led them past her into an open office, where a thin, elderly man in slacks and a sweater sat behind a large desk. He rose but didn’t smile.

“Dr. Rosewood,” Mike said, thawing at last. “I’m Michael Harrison. I appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to see us.”

“Call me Clint, Michael.” His features naturally grave, Clint Rosewood’s eyes warmed some. “Evan, coffee.”

“Of course. Kaylee, Mr. Harrison, what can I get you?” Evan asked instantly.

“Cappuccino,” Mike answered. “Water for Kaylee.”

Another thing she hated about Mike: he assumed she didn’t like coffee. Or maybe, he thought the help shouldn’t have coffee. She didn’t know.

She smiled when Evan’s eyes slid to her. There was something about him she liked. He seemed friendly, nice.

“Spring, filtered or bubbling?” he asked.

“Filtered,” Mike replied for her.

“Spring,” she said simultaneously.

Mike glanced at her in disapproval. Evan slid away, and Mike’s attention shifted to the only person that really mattered to him at that moment.

“I hope not to take up too much of your time,” Mike said.

“Please, sit with me.”

The chairman and head doctor of a private medical empire spanning the DC area motioned to a small conference room table in the corner. He and Mike sat. Kaylee opened Mike’s briefcase and spun it to face him so he could pull out whatever he needed. When he was finished, she closed it and cleared the table, seating herself. She slid Mike’s pen to him.

“You are an effective team,” Dr. Rosewood commented, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Kaylee found herself smiling back. Like his son, something about the good doctor made her feel more comfortable than she had at any other routine office visit.

“We’ve been training her,” Mike replied.

Like a dog.
Kaylee didn’t react when Mike glanced at her, knowing she had to play the cheerful assistant role in public. In private, they argued regularly. Knowing who her father was, even Mike wouldn’t dare fire her, which gave her some leeway in dealing with him.

Right now, she was considering taking the keys and leaving him. He’d call her dad, who would call and yell at her, but for the time between ditching Mike and dealing with her father, she’d be happy for once. No other junior put up with Mike’s obnoxious, pretentious behavior.

I really need to take time off.

The two men began talking. Another thought entered her mind, and she tilted her head, gazing at Mike.

Maybe stress wasn’t the issue. Maybe working for him was the heaviness she felt around her shoulders. It was back, the Shadowman’s presence. It made the room feel too confined and the sense of being watched returned. The hair at the back of her neck was soon standing at attention. If she looked over her shoulder, she thought she might see it this time.

The sensations were getting stronger. A glimpse at the shaded window made her think it was night outside. She looked again and saw the trees outside Dr. Rosewood’s office.

She was starting to doubt her eyes.

Evan returned, placing a chilled bottle of water before her and cappuccino in front of Mike.

“Young lady, why don’t you accompany Evan for a tour?” Mr. Rosewood asked. “Michael and I need to talk in private for a few minutes.”

She glanced at Mike, who nodded. Kaylee rose and went to the door, where Evan awaited her. Uncomfortable at the thought of touring an insane asylum, she nonetheless was eager to get away from Mike. He was driving her crazy after the three hour drive trapped in the car with him.

The door closed behind Evan. His laid back air helped her relax.

“I’ll have to admit that I’m not too excited about a tour,” she told him.

“Few are,” he replied. “It’s not that bad. My father has done a great deal to try to lift the stereotypes surrounding mental health care.”

“Your father?”

“Dr. Rosewood. I’m learning the ins and outs of his business,” Evan said and led her down the hall. “Psychiatry isn’t my thing, but administration is. I’m a medical doctor by trade. He’s getting too old to handle both and his first love is helping people.”

“That’s commendable,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so nice. Your father must care a great deal about his patients.”

“He does. He follows a more European method of treatment. Addressing the illness holistically – diet, counseling and limited meds – instead of drugging someone up and tossing them in a cell.”

She listened, glancing around. Evan swiped a badge to lead her into what looked like a dorm area. The wood flooring and modern décor gave the hallway a homey feel. Bedrooms lined the hall and each one was neat, welcoming and warm.

Definitely not the sterile white walls and cement flooring she expected. A few of the patients were in their rooms while others gathered around in a common area with game tables, a television and an arts and crafts corner.

“Our Tier One patients stay on this floor. They are here voluntarily. Some for drug and alcohol treatment, some for milder illnesses and others who are trying to deal with complicated life issues,” Evan explained quietly. “We let them keep their own clothing and assign each a room, with or without a roommate, depending on their comfort zone.”

“This is nicer than my apartment building,” she murmured.

“Not every floor is. We have some who require special, round the clock attention and a few criminally insane who were deemed appropriate for rehab. But I like to start off the tour stressing that people who suffer from a mental illness are just like everyone else. Environmental factors and lifestyle play a big part in one’s soundness of mind.”

Maybe I need to check myself in.
Kaylee sneaked a peek behind her, expecting to see the Shadowman the way she did in a dream.

He wasn’t visible, but she felt it there, like a person following too closely behind her. Evan led her to an elevator at the end of the floor and punched a button.

“You said lifestyle,” she said. “You mean like stress?”

“Yeah. Stress, divorce, loss of a loved one, foreclosure. Any kind of life trauma.”

“Stress seems to be the least of those issues,” she said, frowning.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped into it.

“Not so. Stress builds up its bad effects over time,” he replied. “It gradually wears you down. Those other events can hit relatively suddenly.”

The elevator was crowded with her, Evan and the Shadowman. Kaylee began sweating.

“That makes sense,” she said. “Stress wins by attrition.”
Like my father.
He wore her down over time and guilted her into going into law.

Evan chuckled.

The doors opened, and he stepped into a hallway with hard flooring and tea-colored walls. The doors along this corridor were sealed closed with small windows in them.

“This is the other end of the spectrum,” Evan said. “What’s important is to remember that these people will one day be on the top floor.”

“You really think so?” She peered into one window and saw an unconscious patient strapped to a bed.

“I do. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve seen my father turn someone who was viewed a lost cause into a functioning member of society. Degree, family, library card – everything,” Evan said proudly. “It takes a lot of work and time, but he’s done it.”