The news drops like a nuclear bomb in my head.
Doctor Brighton is dead? How? Was it really Jill's doing?
"How did he die?" I ask, still baffled.
"He shot himself, doc, and we found a confession letter next to his body," he explains, lowering his voice.
"Shot himself?" I blurt out. "Where exactly? Like, in the head?"
"Of course, in the head, doc!" he raises his tone, irritation spreads in his voice. "Where else? His feet?!"
I scowl in return. Something inside me tells me there's a lot more going on than meets the eye. "Humor me, please," I sneer.
He grunts. "Under his chin. Happy?"
A shot from under his chin. That would surely turn him into Leatherface. Would someone as narcissistic as doctor Brighton blows his own face? I'd say the possibility is zero to none.
"What about the confession letter? Are you absolutely, 100-percent sure it's his handwriting?" I ask.
He doesn't reply right away, which makes my suspicion grows stronger. "It was typewritten."
"Aha! So, it could've been planted there by anyone! What about fingerprints? And-"
"We've checked everything, doc," he interrupts. "It's clean, there are no other fingerprints but his. I know you don't believe me, but all the evidence points it to be a suicide."
I let out a long sigh. "Don't you think it's a little convenient how he died right after we're finally closing in on him? Tell me you're not for the least bit suspicious."
"I know, I know. Something doesn't add up. But right now, my hands are tied. All the media are focusing their eyes on us and Cap is adamant we close this case as soon as we can," he continues.
"But a man has been murdered!" I protest.
"Might," he corrects me. "Look, how do you think people would feel if they find out another person has been murdered? Would they be able to say hi to their neighbors without thinking the other person might be a killer? Would people even have the courage to come out of their house?"
He sighs. "You know how it's been these past few weeks. People are scared, Alexis. They're starting to lose faith in the police and that doesn't look good for us, especially for Cap. Not to mention, the mayor is pressuring her to catch the killer before the Fair. There had been talks to cancel it and we can't afford that to happen."
"Why not?" I raise my voice. "It's just a Town Fair, Lucas. Compared to the lives of people, surely it—"
"It may be just a Town Fair to you, but for most people, it's their biggest source of income. For some, it's a way to move on from the tragedy that has happened to the town. Call it denial or anything, but people need that right now or else the whole town will turn insane," Lucas pauses for a while, "Have you seen The Mist? It will be just like that!"
"Of course, I have," I reply. "Well, I didn't think you have, but what do some creepy monsters have to do with our situation?"
"Not the monster, doc, but the thing that happened in the supermarket! People accusing each other and became street vigilante, remember?"
Wow. I seriously didn't think of him as a horror movie fan, but that is some fascinating movie trivia.
Fangirl later will ya, Alexis?
Okay, okay. Back to the topic.
Now, if the cops stop chasing the real killer, then there's a real possible chance that Jill would harm the real killer! Don't get me wrong, I have no problems with that. But what about his loved ones? Jill made it clear she's going to hurt the killer's family and friends first! Now that I have a problem with.
I swallow, throwing my head back and grunt for a quick second out of frustration. "But, whoever killed Jill and Doctor Brighton is still out there! Jill might be planning an attack as we speak. You can't expect me to give up now!"
"God, Alexis!" he cries out his frustration. "Don't you realize what your words also mean? It means we have a serial killer on the loose!"
"Exactly! That's why we should-"
"What do you think he—or she—will do if he finds out you've been poking your nose into this case?" He gives a dramatic pause. "You'll be next, Alexis!"
His words leave me baffled. I gulp, realizing that he's right. I might really be in danger if I continue investigating. Obviously, he knows how to protect himself since he's a cop. But me? What can I do?
I'm a doctor! Not a freaking secret agent!
He lets out a sigh. "Look, doc, I'm not going to give up. I won't stop, I promise you. As soon as I finish all the paper works Cap is forcing me to do, I will resume the investigation myself," he tries to convince me. "But please, please, Alexis, do me a favor and stay away from this case. You've done enough."
A part of me tells me that I should just let it go and leave it to Lucas. The other part of me, however, would not let myself rest until I know for sure the killer is behind bars. But, I also don't want Lucas to worry about me. So, I lie.
"Fine."
***
Teenage Girl Killer Committed Suicide.
The headline on today's newspaper entices me to pick an issue someone left on one of the chairs outside the ER. I take my seat and start reading the article.
Yesterday night, Charles Brighton, 38, was found dead in his home by his wife. His wife, Madeleine Brighton, 32, came home from picking up their son from swimming lesson when she found the body of her husband. The man shot himself in the head, but not before leaving a suicide note by his side. In the note, he confessed of murdering an 18-year-old local high school student, Jill St. John, whose body was found near The Hill eleven weeks ago. Jill St. John - who worked as his son's tutor - found out he had been selling illegal medical prescriptions, to which she threatened to report to the police. Therefore, he made a choice to end her life.
Doctor Brighton's suicide theory sure has a hole big enough for an elephant to fit in. Charles Brighton was far from being innocent, I know because the proof that I—and ultimately the police—found pointed that he was indeed selling illegal prescriptions. But was he really a murderer? I'm not so sure.
Okay, until yesterday, I was 99% positive he was the one who murdered Jill. But now that he supposedly killed himself, I'm beginning to doubt my own judgment.
Why? Because I know Charles Brighton, that's why. Would you believe a man with such vanity like Charles Brighton, who stopped in front of every single mirror he could find to adore himself, would blow his face off?
Nope, I don't think so.
If he did choose to commit suicide for whatever reason—and that's a big if—I'd say a coward like him would, say, inject himself with a lethal dose of morphine. Painless and way less messy. After all, he does have access to all kinds of medicine.
Shaking my head, I continue to read the article.
He thought by burying her body in the woods, no one would've found her. But detective Lucas Wright managed to find her and the remains of her dog, Annie.
How dare they leave my name out?
On second thought, maybe that's not such a bad idea.
But... Annie, huh? That reminds me of the two little ghosts who befriended her. According to June and Jude, the Boogeyman was not a tall man, while doctor Brighton is—well, was—about 6 foot 2. I'd say that categorized as tall enough.
With my tight schedule and Will's third surgery coming up next Monday, I haven't had the chance to ask them. But that doesn't mean I won't. Lucas chose to believe that his siblings simply made a mistake, but Evil Me won't let it slide that easily.
Haunted by his mistakes, Charles Brighton chose to kill himself to make amends.
Haunted. What a nice choice of word.
The police also confirmed the gun used to kill Jill St. John is the same unregistered gun used by Charles Brighton to kill himself. Therefore, the police officially announced the murder investigation of Jill St. John is now closed.
A memorial for Jill St. John will be held tomorrow at Casa Nova Town Hall, right before the opening of Casa Nova Annual Fair.
Casa Nova Fair. Why do I have a bad feeling about it?
I close the newspaper and place it back where I found it. I'm about to head back to the critical area to have a meeting with the rest of the team about Will's upcoming surgery when I see a familiar face. The lean man wearing a gray T-shirt and black jeans is standing in front of the elevator with a beautiful bouquet in one hand. His gaze is fixated on the phone on his left hand, his fingers busy typing.
When I approach him, flower scent fills my nose. It's a nice aroma, but unfortunately, within seconds my nose and eyes feel itchy. I find it odd how some flowers can cause my allergy to kick in. See, I'm allergic to many things: perfume, dust, mold; but never flowers.
As I stop right next to him, I sneeze loudly. Well, I guess now I'll have to add one more to the list.
"Bless you!" He takes his eyes off his phone and switches his gaze at me. "Oh, hey Alexis," he greets me with a smile.
"Hey, Dean. Looking for Claire?" I ask, my eyes glance at the pink and purple daisies.
Claire is one lucky girl, all right.
"Yes and no," his answer leaves me confused. "I am having dinner with Claire tonight, but this," he glances at the flowers, "This is for a student of mine. I heard she got admitted a couple of days ago."
His mouth forms a straight line while he looks around to make sure no one's going to hear him. Then, he lowers down his voice to a whisper, "I heard she ODed a few days ago."
"Oh, Sheila McKinney?" I sneeze once more.
"Yeah." His expression turns surprised. "You know her?"
"I was one of the doctors who did her surgery last week and I was there when she was brought in for the second time too." I sneeze once more, so I grab a ply of tissue from my pocket to cover my nose while I take a few steps back.
"Are you okay?" Dean asks.
I wave my hand in front of him. "It's just allergies."
"I see. Anyway, that poor girl. First, she fell down the stairs. Now..." He lets out a sigh, shaking his head in the process. "How is she?"
"Last I heard she was stable and was still in and out of consciousness, but I haven't heard anything since," I answer.
"I see," he mutters under his breath. "Hey! By any chance, do you happen to know which room she's in? I've been texting Principal St. John for the room number but he hasn't replied yet."
"She's still in the ICU," I reply. "You know what? I'm actually going there right now, why don't I show you?"
"That'd be great! Thanks."
I flash a smile while both of us enter the empty elevator. I press the fourth-floor button and the door closes. Just as the elevator starts to move, it makes a loud croaking sound. The lights start to flicker and suddenly the elevator stops moving.
That's when I realize I'm stuck in an elevator with a murder suspect.
Well, he's now acquitted, of course. But still, he was one of the suspects.
The realization sends chill all over my body. What if this really isn't over? What if Dean is Jill's real killer? What if she's planning to attack him right here, right now?
I sneeze a few times as I begin to panic. My heart keeps beating faster and my breathing gets shorter as a series of what-ifs invades my mind. Until finally, the light returns to normal and the elevator starts moving upward.
I let out a relieved sigh. That's when I remember hearing something about the repairman giving up in fixing the old elevator and ordering a new one instead.
What was I thinking, accusing a nice guy like Dean? Seriously, this paranoia has got to stop now.
Take a look at him, Alexis.
Evil Me's words bring my gaze to the man standing next to me. I find it strange how he doesn't even flinch at the scene. If I remember correctly, Lucas said Dean was frantic about the strange occurrence at his auto shop. Now, if I had been the one who was attacked by a ghost, wouldn't I be traumatized enough to at least blink or shiver when faced with the same condition? Instead, this guy is as calm as ice!
So... who lied? Lucas or Dean?
I know why Lucas might lie about it. Judging by the fact that he seems to have a grudge against Dean, he might want to make Dean looks like a scaredy-cat.
But, why would Dean lie?
As I continue to ponder my thoughts, I suddenly have the craziest theory. What if Dean corroborates Stephens' story to make doctor Brighton look guilty? After all, their testimony was the first thing that created the impression that Doctor Brighton is a liar. It doesn't take a genius to know that someone as arrogant as Charles Brighton wouldn't have admitted he saw a ghost. So, when Stephens frantically claimed he saw Jill's ghost, it's only fitting that Dean would say the same thing to make Charles Brighton look like a liar.
Of course, my vision helped establish that fact too, but Dean wouldn't have known that.
Another croaking sound as a result of the elevator door being opened breaks my thought.
"After you." Like a gentleman, Dean lets me walk out of the elevator first.
I give a polite, if not awkward smile and lead him to the critical area.
Are you going to ask him, Alexis?
Ask him what?
Playing dumb, huh? Fine. If you won't, I will.
"I'm really sorry about your shop," Evil Me takes over.
"Yeah, me too," he answers, sounding a bit disappointed.
"So, what exactly happened?" I glance at him, trying to see his expression to determine if he's lying.
"I don't know." He shakes his head. "Honestly? I didn't see anything. One thing I was at my office, grabbing Charles' car key, then the next thing I knew I woke up in an ambulance."
I draw my brows together. That's odd. Does it mean Lucas is lying? But...
"What is it?" he asks.
"Nothing. It's just, Lucas said you saw a ghost. It's absurd, I know."
"Whoa..." He looks surprised. Then, with a teasing smile on his face, he continues, "I didn't know you and Wright are close."
"W-we're not, I mean, we..." I can feel my cheeks starting to burn with embarrassment.
He chuckles. "I said that because I was trying to protect Stephen. I know I lied, but at that time it seemed like the right thing to do."
"Stephen?" I pretend like I don't know him.
"Yeah, he's one of the boys in my team. He made a fuss about seeing Jill's ghost and I know he had been getting into some problems with his parents and the authorities because of his delusions. So, I decided to cover for him. I figure if I say the same thing, he'd be considered... saner."
Oh. That actually makes a lot more sense. He did lie, but he lied to protect his students. A little white lie. As expected from a kind soul like Dean. How could I possibly think he's a killer?
But now we also know that he's a good actor.
What do you mean, Evil Me?
Do you remember how he looked then? You saw him yourself. He might be telling the truth now, but his actions that day were pretty convincing.
What are you saying?
I'm just saying he's a good liar. That's all.
Yeah. But you're allowed to lie when it comes to protecting the people you care about, right?
"You don't really believe in ghosts, aren't you, Lexi?" his voice breaks my thoughts.
"Nah... Of course not." My smile grows so fake he probably sees through my lie.
When we arrive at our destination, I swipe my card and open the door. I guide him to Sheila's room, which happens to be next to Will's room. I leave Dean and Sheila alone in her room while I go and peek at Will's room, hoping to get a chance to talk to him about my doubts.
Will's body is still in the room with the machines strapped to him. But his spirit is nowhere to be found. I figure he probably wants to spend his last nights as a spirit doing things he won't be able to do once he's back to his body: Sneaking to the movies to watch Casablanca for free.
Honestly, I don't know why he - and half of the town, including Claire - loves that movie so much. It's been a month since the theatre started playing that movie and people still see it. When are they going to play The Shining? Or any other horror movie, for that matter?
It's times like these that make me miss San Francisco.
"Lexi?" Shawn's voice brings me back to reality. I turn around and see him standing before the door to the meeting room. "Come on, the meeting's about to start."
Author's Note:
Hey, guys!
Since I had some free time this week, I ended up finishing two chapters at once. I'm still editing the other one, but it will also be posted today :)
I hope you're enjoying this chapter. See you in the next one!