The Psychiatrist: Trilogy to The Doll Collector

Chapter 9: Maria

Kris had left me shaken with his little intrusion. Macy returned and resumed her session as if nothing had happened, but I was paying little attention. She didn't seem to notice, and I promised myself that I would be better for our next meeting and somehow muscled through without coming undone.

Macy thanked me for being such a good listener. Aw Macy. I smiled and then made my way briskly to my office. Few doctors were in that hallway, so I was able to run up to my room unnoticed. I slammed the door and put all of my weight on it. Now there was nothing to distract me from my consuming thoughts.

The fear was crawling through me with every second I continued to entertain the possibility. Things had started happening when I arrived. Was it possible that I had something to do with it? The minute there was a free moment, my mind flitted over to my morbid thoughts. I couldn't avoid thinking about death, blood, or taking lives with my own hands.

The guilt settled heavily in my stomach like a rock. Maybe there was a part of me that blacked out that prevented me from remembering that I was the one committing these murders. I raked through every memory I had upon getting here, but nothing violent came to mind.

How are you coping with what you saw in that cabin?

I gulped thickly and slid heavily onto the floor. To help me process them, I started keeping detailed journals regarding my nightmares and daydreams. It was a twisted dream journal, and I had brought it with me from California. Oh, I had!

I ran to my closet and dug in the furthest corner where it was hidden. Inside were new entries since I had arrived at White Crest. All were  images and scenes that I clearly remembered writing down. I checked the dates, and none coincided with the deaths of either patient. However, my nightmares and daydreams were bloody, and Brooks and Jennings had died of natural causes. If I had murdered them, I wouldn't have written it down.

That realization deflated me just a bit. The official word was that they had died of natural causes, which would be the perfect cover, because there were many ways to fake a natural death.

But, if I was indeed the killer, I had to remember eventually, right? Those memories would penetrate my dreams.

There was a knock at my office door, and I yelped, dropping my journal. Sheriff Honeycomb made his presence known, probably having heard my outburst. I tossed my journal back into my closet and hurried to open the door. I smiled at him as he met my eyes.

Sheriff Honeycomb was rather young for his position, but I figured that was just because this was a small town. He removed his hat and asked to take a seat inside. I granted permission, then sat in my chair, to look more relaxed. Aileene Jennings' file was on my desk.

I nonchalantly hid her name with Macy's file and my notepad. He'd likely find that suspicious.

"It's nice to see you again Dr. Domingues-Gonzalez." he said.

"Please, call me Jordana. You're here too often for us to be so formal." I told him.

"Of course, although I do find that a bit troubling. I've been here too many times this month and each time I come; I leave with a body."

"I know, it's been hard on the hospital as of late." I said.

He blinked, probably already aware that the doctors around here didn't particularly care for the patients.

"Jordana, I'm sure you understand why I'm here." he said.

"Because of the patients that died, yes."

"It's not just that. I've had to look into them because it's rather uncommon for two people to die of natural causes so close together. Almost gives you the impression that they're not, so-called natural causes. But the reason I'm here is because upon further investigation, I discovered they had one thing in common."