I spent the first few hours, sipping on the hazelnut blend in my darkroom upstairs. It was my solitude, with windows blacked out and a set up with expensive equipment.
At first, I only took pictures outside in the garden, the rose bushes, and various flowers which blossomed late in June until the day I’d met Cora down the pathway, a little raven-haired girl, no more than eight or nine, who liked to jump puddles in her yellow rain boots. Her mom, Mrs. Morrigan, always worked in the garden out front after it rained, and gave me a few pointers on how to take care of our flowers. On days Ollie worked, her and Cora would come by, and she’d teach me her green-thumb ways.
And the flowers were prospering, and so was my photography. People quickly became my favorite muse. Cora’s mom was sick, and quite often, when Mrs. Morrigan was having a bad day, I’d take Cora into the village. Together, we’d people watch as I snapped stolen moments, frowns, kisses, smiles, seeing the true beauty of human kindness through a lens.
But today Cora had to visit her dad, and I made her a promise I would visit my biological dad too. It was easy to spill my secrets to a nine-year-old, but Cora’s advice was always so simple. “Just go see him.”
I was nervous about revisiting Dolor and spent the rest of the morning putting together a bundle of purple freesias, pink roses, and white lilies from our garden for Dr. Conway, and grabbing a to-go cup of coffee on my way out. The taxi waited outside our gate, and I climbed in with the flowers cradled in my arms. I had no idea what I would say or how this would go, but Cora’s words replayed over and over, “Think of the absolute worst that could happen, then the best. Most of the time, what will actually happen will lie right in the center.”
She’d said her dad told her that, and life was too short to worry, and worrying gave you frown lines.
The taxi drove through the iron gates of Dolor, and the memories from my time here gave me whiplash. “We’re here, love,” the old man said from the driver seat of the taxi, which smelled like stale tobacco, wearing a wool driver cap over his head. He drove around the circular driveway and parked in front of the doors. I paid my fare, exited, and walked up the steps in loose faded boyfriend jeans, tan leather slip-on’s, and a plain white tee, wishing I’d throw on the romper or the dress. I’d changed so many times, but there was no going back now.
I drew in a breath and opened the door.
“I’m here to see Dr. Conway, and Lynch,” I almost stuttered, but remained cool as the new security guard studied me.
“Put the items over the conveyer belt and step through the detector.” He motioned with his baton. “Arms at your side.”
I did, and my heart was beating so loud as my mind betrayed me at the thought of them being able to hold me hostage again. Could they? I stepped through, and he traced my silhouette with his hand-held metal detector, paying close attention to my hips. “It’s my phone. I’m a visitor,” I reminded him. “Not a patient.”
The security guard dropped his baton and looked over his clipboard. “I don’t see you on the list for today.”
“It’s unexpected, I know. But Lynch will want to see me.”
“Uh-huh,” he grunted.
“Just … tell Lynch his daughter is here.”
He looked up from his clipboard and grabbed a chorded phone from the wall. After a deep and muffled one-sided conversation, he hung up and returned to me. “We’re waiting on an escort.”
“I’ll take her,” said a low, burly voice. Just then, a large man with a scattered smile stepped forward. “I finally get to meet the amazing Mia.” He laughed, his eyes twinkling.
I raised a brow. “Do I know you?”
“Jinx. I’m a friend of Oliver’s.”
The big man was very talkative the entire way to Lynch’s office, but I was thankful for the distraction because I was clutching the flowers so tight, the petals were wilting. And when we approached, Jinx knocked over the door before opening.
Lynch instantly stood and thanked him before motioning me to take a seat.
I was too nervous to sit.
“You brought me flowers?” he asked, walking around his desk and sitting over the edge. My gaze roamed over him, trying to find bits and pieces of myself. Did I get my sinister thoughts from him? Was there a darkness lurking inside him too? I’d looked at the man so many times before, yelled at him, challenged him, cried to him. He held the same tired and caved in brown sunken eyes I could’ve sworn had been blue before, but I supposed my mind had a way of playing tricks on me.
“They’re for Dr. Conway.”
“Of course.” He swung his head to glance out the large window facing the Looney Bin, a place he’d sent me once before. “Dr. Conway. She isn’t here.”
“Oh.” I shifted in place.
“Miss Jett,” he cleared his throat, “Mia, what happened. Where were you?”
“I was fine.” To this day, I kept my promise to Ethan and his secret. Perhaps I didn’t owe Ethan anything, but despite what we’d been through, he was still my friend, and maybe I was the only person on earth who understood him. “I’m surprised you care, considering you didn’t look for me.”
Lynch dropped his head and shook it slowly. “That’s not fair.”
“Was it fair to keep this secret from me for two years while I was here?” Lynch had so many chances to tell me he was my father, but he didn’t. “Why was I the last person to know.”
“Because I had to treat you as a patient. Not a daughter. I planned to tell you, you know. On release day. But you’d already taken off before I had the chance.”
I released a long and steady breath. “Well, I’m here now.” I was done being angry. For so long, I’d been angry at everyone, holding so much pent up blame, rage, and grief. For once, I wanted to let it all go and not let those feelings tarnish this person I grew to be.
“Mia, I’ve been waiting for this moment, but I have no idea what to say. This is all new for me.”
“This is new for me too.”
He tapped his fingers over his desk and adjusted in place nervously. “So, where do we go from here?”
“I was thinking that maybe we could take it slow. Maybe you could tell me how you met my mom.”
Lynch smiled. “I would love that.”
“Oliver,” Dex sang, then laughed. “Your girl is here. You better come watch her.”
“She’s not my girl,” I reminded him through the phone, already on my way because Leigh had texted me, begging me to rescue her. She’d said James ripped off her knickers and made her dance on a table.
It was two in the morning, and the bass from the music thumped from inside, but it wasn’t the only house party going on at this hour. Constant parties went on up and down this street. Empty beer bottles littered the front steps, and I pushed my way through the door and into a house when a strong smell of stale cigarettes and even staler sex greeted me.
“Oliver!” Reggi exclaimed, and the rest of the crowd repeated, singing my name. I ignored him, my eyes scanning the bodies for Leigh. She was my ticket to Ghost, and without her, I’d never get the meeting or our freedom. Killing Ghost was my only option.