The Psychiatrist: Trilogy to The Doll Collector

Chapter 21: Maria

My hand was clamped over my mouth to suffocate the sounds of my breathing. Hiding in Charley's closet, listening to her footsteps as they entered her office reminded me of when I was hiding in Kris' closet. How many times did I have to repeat history?

Memories of that night suddenly trickled through from the back of my mind. I'd packed them up in a box and stowed it away in the deepest and darkest crevices of my memories. It's what had let me move forward and forget who Kris was when we were together. My conscience was in that box too.

A solid, righteous conscience could never be with a man like Kris, knowing all he did and what he would surely do in the future. Her footsteps were resembling his as she sat at her desk. My eyes darted to the side, struggling to see in the darkness. In his closet, there was a body who later I figured out was Barbara's rotting corpse.

There was no such body in her closet, only a musty gym bag and crisp lab coats. I pressed my back against the wall trying to relax my muscles and quell the adrenaline consistently pumping through every vein.

From the sounds of it, Charley was rummaging in her desk drawer, probably looking for the keys. I mentally patted myself on the back for being quick enough to tape them back into their place. Their jingle reached my ears as her chair creaked. I imagined she'd stood and her footsteps guided me to her place before the cabinets. They keys jingled once more, then the cabinet rattled open.

My sense of hearing was so sharp, I thought I could hear my own blood, but really it was my acute paranoia. If Charley found me in here, she'd kill me. If she really was the killer, she'd kill me. The cabinet slammed shut then the keys jingled as her drawer was shut too. I looked at my feet, releasing my hand from my mouth when the beam of light disappeared.

Was I truly alone?

I counted the seconds until I was up to 120. 2 minutes, and not a sound could be heard. With trepidation I pushed open the closet door, setting a sturdy foot on the floor. When nothing grabbed me and dragged me away, I fully emerged from my hiding spot. Everything seemed exactly the way it had been when I had first come in. I crept over to her desk wondering what kind of evidence I'd find, that might prove she was the killer.

A file was set atop all of her other things, a file that hadn't been there before.

My heart jolted reading the name Kristopher Marner. I picked it up, noticing another file underneath it. Zachary Aleksandrov.

Kris' file I knew forward and backwards, but Zach's? I set Kris' file aside and picked his up, flipping it open. His smiling photo was in the corner, much like mine. He smile showed no teeth, but there was still a gentle nature to it. He was certainly a handsome man. Especially so with the blue shirt underneath the black tie and white lab coat.

His transfer paper was sticking out from the other papers. He'd come from a psychiatric hospital for suicidal patients in Tulsa. He'd been there throughout his schooling including two years after graduation.

He had requested a transfer to White Crest following - I paused, thinking that I'd read that incorrectly. He had requested a transfer to White Crest following his engagement to Loraine Wilcox.

He said they'd met here.

The rest of his file contained his professional accomplishments, but that one line was the only thing I could think about.

He was engaged to her, but how if she was already tenured here? Furthermore he said she was like a sister. He said he was from Oklahoma, not Alabama.

I opened another cabinet drawer fingering through the files until I found Loraine's. I had some questions now. Her picture was attached to the corner as all of ours were. She had shoulder length brown hair with blonde highlights. Her smile lit up her face, seemingly friendly. She was pretty, easy to see why they were engaged. I guess, whatever, if you liked that sort of person.