The Vampire Obsession

Chapter 16

Evelyn

Actually, Nadia had a point.

And yes, I had already reached that conclusion in the past. But I dismissed it quickly, because it would not be appropriate to use that information in my research. They would be blocked by the authorities, since they involved them. And I could not risk receiving any lawsuit, or worse, losing my job.

When Nadia threw me a deeply severe look, I immediately knew who she was thinking about.

My father.

"Yes, when I researched the lives of the Ripper’s victims, I found police records and controversial stories involving all the men. Assaults, luring minors, trafficking, murders," I said, rubbing my hands on my pants nervously. "But all were influential in their respective areas, and the accusations never moved forward. Always abandoned halfway."

"Since justice is blind, maybe he is simply doing justice with his own hands."

"Maybe." Suddenly, my line of reasoning was interrupted by a loud sound that echoed through the cold walls of the room like the roar of a monster that had just awakened from a cave. It came directly from my stomach. Nadia also seemed to hear, considering the way she arched her eyebrows, surprised. "Why did I suddenly feel like eating barbecue?" I asked.

Nadia laughed loudly.

"It is the formaldehyde inside the corpse’s body. It gets a little smell like well-done meat, doesn’t it?" I could not contain the grimace of disgust that I made upon having knowledge of that information. Suddenly, Nadia’s face lit up completely. I saw the exact moment an idea sprouted in her mind. "Have you had lunch today?"

I shook my head in negation.

"Want to order a snack?" she asked.

"And eat in here?"

"Where else would it be?" she shot, as if it were obvious.

After a few minutes, I found myself devouring a hamburger and fries with Nadia. She sipped a bottle of cold beer. A courtesy paid by me, because I owed her at least that. I did not know if eating in a morgue was exactly ethical conduct, but if Nadia did not care, who was I to care?

"I need to admit that I have been itching to ask something for a while," she let out, suddenly.

"Say it," I replied, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

"Is he hot?"

"Nadia!" I shouted, reprimanding her. If I earned a coin every time someone asked me that question, I would already have two coins, which was not much. However, it was strangely disconcerting. I rolled my eyes, but ended up admitting anyway: "Yes, he is pretty hot."

"I knew it." She gave a little laugh with her lips around the mouth of the bottle. "You would never get so obsessed over an ugly one."

I gave her a strong shove, which made her almost fly off the chair, and laugh even louder.

"I am happy you are back, Evelyn."

Her words warmed me inside like a cup of hot tea on a freezing winter day. My eyes burned restlessly.

I did not remember when was the last time I felt at home, but beside Nadia and Alan, I felt that I truly belonged somewhere. As if all the tragedy that permeated my life were just a distant nightmare.

I blinked, making the tears return to where they came from. Even unsure if returning to Grimwood and to their lives had been the best of choices, I smiled affectionately at her and murmured:

"Me too."

The cold that enveloped me when I placed my feet outside the chalet was like being welcomed by an embrace of death.

However, I did not see even the slightest brushing of the morning breeze in front of me. Complete darkness covered my field of vision.

Until I heard someone calling my name in an apprehensive tone.

"Miss Cross?"

I opened my eyes, being violently dragged away from the world of dreams, anchoring myself to the present. I was standing, barefoot on the porch of the chalet, with the door wide open behind me, wearing the pajamas in which I had fallen asleep.

And with a knife in my hand.

When I realized, I dropped the fingers that were wrapped around the knife with a start. I gasped in shock, and a pale condensation hovered over my face due to the low temperature.

What the hell was I doing out there?

Officer David, who always did patrol at the door of my house from dawn until the sun rose, stared at me with a concerned expression.

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked, approaching with cautious steps.

I blinked quickly, running my eyes over the forest, the road, everything to convince myself that I was not dreaming. The morning fog was dense and surrounded the entire landscape in a gray and picturesque mist.

Like in a dream.

Except that now, I was very awake.

I fell asleep in my bed at night, but somehow, I grabbed a knife in the kitchen and walked there with the weapon in my hands.

I had episodes of sleepwalking before, where I wandered around my apartment and ended up waking up on the couch, brushing my teeth in the bathroom or sitting in front of the refrigerator devouring frozen foods. The greatest danger I faced was getting food poisoning after eating something spoiled. All the episodes were nothing but harmless. But what did my sleepwalking self intend with a knife?

"I am great, David." I nodded frenetically, scared of myself, but determined not to let him notice that. I bent down, retrieving the knife from the ground. "I was making breakfast, I came out here to see if it was raining because the day dawned grayer than usual today. You scared me." I smiled kindly, but David still did not seem convinced.

"Are you sure everything is alright? You seemed to be sleeping awake..."

"Really?" I asked with feigned surprise, and then forced a little laugh. "Ah, it must have been because I am not wearing my contact lenses. I forgot to put them on when I got out of bed." I did not even need contact lenses, but that flimsy excuse seemed to make sense to David. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

He accepted enthusiastically. I took the opportunity and ran back to the welcoming safety of the chalet, rubbing my arms to warm myself from the morning cold. I turned on the coffee maker and wandered through the rooms looking for my cellphone.

When I found it, I looked at the screen for a hesitant second, before dialing a number that was definitely not in my plans for that day.

"Good morning, is this Dr. Rayson’s office? I would like to schedule an appointment."

"Sorry for leaving the office so abruptly the last time I was here. I forgot to take my painkiller and needed to run home," I said, with a guilty smile, sitting in front of my new psychologist – apparently.

I struggled to find a plausible justification the entire way there, and that one seemed justifiable enough.

To my luck, Dr. Rayson nodded at me, understanding.

"I am glad you scheduled another appointment, Miss Cross. I am the one who should apologize for the questions I asked last time. I was indelicate and invasive, I should not have pressured you so much."

He really should not have.

"It is alright." I made a vague gesture with my hand, as if it had been nothing much. "Your questions made me realize something about myself that I had not realized before. And probably would not have done alone. So thank you."

"I am glad for that." His smile widened. "You can talk about that with me when you are ready."

I very much doubt that is going to happen, I thought internally, but nodded and smiled back, like a good patient.

"How was your week?" he asked, following his psychologist script, making the question he probably used to begin all his consultations.

Since Alan told me that Dr. Rayson was the best in the city, I researched his name avidly on the internet in search of more information about the man. Certificates, client testimonials, anything. But all I found was a website with his available weekly hours, his offered services and a cancellation policy tab.

No photo.

That made him gain my distrust immediately, however when I searched for any lawsuit in his name, there was nothing. Not even a traffic ticket. Maybe the man just preferred to keep his identity private. I would not judge him for that, after all, I was also that type of professional.

"It has been great. I have a new colleague in the investigation and I met my childhood friend yesterday. It was nice, we had lunch together and caught up."

I preferred to exclude the part where I exchanged barbs with the so-called investigation colleague, that my friend and I spent most of the time talking about a corpse and a serial killer, and had lunch in a morgue.

I doubted Dr. Rayson would categorize that as a great week.

"It is always good to spend time with those we love. Do you have relatives in Grimwood?" he asked.