Dark Feelings (7)
The seventh episode in the Dr Pascha Lyle series published exclusively on Substack
Hello,
Here’s this week’s episode of Dark Feelings, my 90’s fiction story, set in Melbourne, Australia. If this is the first time you’ve seen it, you will want to start at episode one.
Enjoy!
“Do you think Michael lied about being separated?” I can’t help blurting the question swirling round my brain, the second we’re out of Michael’s street and heading for the highway, “That had to be his wife…”
“Maybe,” Fi nervous-munches down a handful of chips, then adds, “I guess she could have just been visiting?
“Or she lives there.”
“Cleaning lady?”
“Doubtful.”
“Yep.”
We drive in silence, until Fi decides to lift the mood, “You wanna still go to Casbah for dinner? We shouldn’t have to miss out just because Anton’s gone off the rails, right?”
“Absolutely, and we deserve something yummy after this ugly traffic,” I agree. We listen to The Cure and some Neneh Cherry, singing along to Man child and Friday I’m in love. But the music doesn’t block out the roaring questions in my head, or my growing, cold unease about Michael, Harley, and Anton.
Stopping by the office before dinner, I look up Michael’s number and call it on impulse, getting his machine as usual. But instead of my usual polite requests for a return phone call, I hear myself angrily blurting,
“Michael, this is bloody ridiculous. It’s Pascha again. Where are you? I don’t want to keep having to call you, but there are some urgent issues. You need to respond now!” I feel a bit exposed, but also kind of relieved when I hang up.
At the restaurant we order our favourite pasta and G&Ts, cosseted in our usual dim, velour-seated booth, but Thursday night doesn’t feel right without Ant. I hear myself repeating how bizarre it is that he cancelled group without talking to us, but neither of us come up with any new answers.
Friday morning crashes in, and over goes my flimsy bedside table again. Apparently assembling Ikea flat pack furniture isn’t my forté. I slammed the clock radio trying to switch off Achy Breaky Heart because that song makes me want to vomit, and the table legs gave out while Billy Ray kept singing despite crashing to the floor.
I couldn’t sleep much again last night. Struggling with bouts of hypervigilance and intense anxiety has been my new normal, since the whole Jay-stalker saga, but now it’s ramped up. It didn’t help that last night I jerked awake to Zelda thumping her long, bony feet on the wall, dreaming about racing I guess. It’s not a soothing sound.
I’ve got a full list of patients today, so I start with a hot shower and Triple J playing Pearl Jam’s Alive over the sound of the water, to wake me up. A strong cup of tea will tide me over until I get to Alex’s for my coffee.
I feel like I’m facing the day strong, wearing black Dr Martens, wool tights and a cosy, huggy black dress. I’m like a mental health commando, ready for anything, or as ready as I’ll ever be.
The Astor Theatre calendar on the fridge catches my eye as I put the milk away before leaving for work. I remember a few weeks back, Anton standing in my kitchen, drinking a gin and tonic, chatting with Fi and I. He circled tonight’s old Hollywood rerun double-feature, High Society and Gigi for us to go to. That won’t be happening.
I reach the top of the office stairs nursing my take away coffee, Zelda hopping up ahead of me, and see the door to my rooms is wide open. Without hesitation, Zelda pronks up to a tall bloke in a white shirt and black jeans, talking to Fi, who’s sitting behind her desk.
He tickles Zelda’s chin, winning her over immediately, and turns to face me.
“Hello,” he says, smiling warmly with dark eyes like I’m supposed to know him.
“Hello,” I can’t place him, but I know he’s not a patient.
“Good to see you again Dr Lyle.”
I know I’ve met him before, but where? Awkward.
He doesn’t seem to mind my confusion,
“Senior Detective Nathan Hawke,” he holds up his identification.
Oh, yeah. It all floods back, prickling sweat under my arms. I involuntarily draw in a shallow breath, Jay’s face in my mind.
I blink it away.
“I’m from South Yarra police, if you remember?”
I glance at Fi as the wave of anxiety crashes in over me, trying not to show I’m knocked backwards inside myself, waiting for the undertow to drag me out to sea. This is the Nathan who arrested Jay, after he broke into my apartment.
“Of course we’ve met…” I stumble, losing my words, “Last year, arresting Jay…you were there, I remember, thank you…sorry…I try not to think about that, too much.”
“No worries,” he smiles, like he doesn’t notice my semi-incoherence, “Have you been OK? It was a rough time….”
“Oh, you know…” I don’t really know how I am about it. I’m still looking over my shoulder, in truth, but I don’t want to admit it openly, risk making it more real.
“What’s happening with Jay?” I assume he’s being released.
“Oh, no, nothing. No change with him. Sorry, you probably thought I’d come about him….”
“Yes….I did…” I exhale, realising I haven’t been breathing fully for a few minutes.
“No, no,” he looks apologetic, “It’s OK. He’s um…in custody. Everything’s the same, so far as I know…”
I just stare at him while images of Jay standing in my bedroom in the middle of the night make my heart race. I blink myself out of it and glance at Fi who gives me an encouraging nod.
Realising I’m not quite on my game, she fills the uncomfortable gap, “Coffee, tea Nathan?”
“I’m good, just finished one,” he says, then looks back to me, “Dr Lyle, or, it’s Pascha, isn’t it? Can I call you Pascha?”
“Yes, of course…Pash is fine,” I drag my head back into the room.
“Great. We’re actually here about another matter. I was surprised to see your name come up, but I’m really hoping you can help us. Pash, we’re trying to locate a Dr Michael Wallis. Do you know him?”
My heart skips a beat at the mention of that name. My mouth opens but no words come out, “Er, um…” Breathe, I tell myself, You’re OK.
“We know him,” Fi fills in wide-eyed, as I’m obviously struggling with my words again.
“Is Michael alright? Has something happened to him?” I finally blurt.
Footsteps sound on the stairs below and a gust of fresh wind from the street whips through the open door, distracting Nathan for a moment. I take a step further inside the waiting room as a clean-faced, youngish woman in black pants and a black shirt appears on the landing, then heads in to join us. A little puffed, she gives a polite nod and a smile to me, then Fi.
“This is Detective Alison White,” Nathan nods towards her.
“Dr Lyle,’ she says, without smiling.
“Pascha…Pash,” I say.
“Oh, OK,” Alison looks a little amused, presumably at my name. She isn’t quite impolite, but she has an edge.
“And this is Fi,” I add.
Looking at Fi, she raises a questioning brow, “Nice to meet you, Fiona?”
“Fifi,” Fi and I say in unison.
“Right,” she looks as dubious about Fi’s name as she did about mine, “Can we talk somewhere, er Pash?”
“Oh, sure. Of course,” I usher the detectives into my office and offer them the two chairs by my desk, “Is Michael OK?”
“Well, that’s the thing, nobody seems to know,” Alison replies, her blue eyes piercingly intense, “His family doesn’t know where he is, and we’re told it’s out of character, not to have seen or heard from him. Have you seen him recently?”
Alison is watching me like she’s at the movies, and it’s making me uncomfortable. I’m usually the one asking the questions in this office. My heart was already beating fast, assuming there was some problem with Jay. Now I feel like Alison’s suspicious, even smug like she thinks she knows something about me. It’s unsettling.
“I haven’t seen him since, um, almost a week ago now, or heard from him unfortunately. I believe he’s living at his beach house though, at The Cape. He only consults limited days in the city, so he’s mainly just down there, he told me….”
I don’t want to admit I went looking for him yesterday and almost came face to face with Mrs Wallis; that I went looking for him, because of what he said to me, or worse, because I’m scared he’s been inappropriate with a teenage patient. I want to confront him myself, before giving voice to any potentially career-ending assumptions about him.
“I don’t know the address,” I add. I didn’t actually notice his street number, it’s true.
“We know the address,” Alison replies, a little too sharply, “He’s missing from there.”
“Oh, of course,” I nod, glancing at Nathan “That makes sense.”
If Alison’s trying to put me off balance, she’s doing great.
Nathan continues, “His wife Pip reported Michael missing from their holiday house. We were hoping you might have some ideas about his whereabouts? Any ideas at all are worth hearing?”
“I, no, I don’t know,” I stumble, “I’m shocked he’s missing. I phoned him a number of times since I saw him, and left messages, but we’ve heard nothing back. I didn’t think for a moment he’d be missing.”
“When was the last time you saw him, or spoke with him?” Alison asks, still looking closely at me.
“It was almost a week ago…Saturday….we had coffee downstairs.”
“What were you phoning him about?” asks Alison “Business or personal?”
My anxiety rises. She’s probably played our messages on his machine, which were all nondescript, until the last one.
“Both.”
“How long have you been seeing one another?” Alison asks bluntly.
I inhale sharply, “We’re not seeing each other.”
“He sent you flowers a few days ago, didn’t he?” Alison comes back quickly.
I inhale to speak again, but Nathan jumps in, maybe trying to soften her approach.
“Not wanting to embarrass you at all Pash. We thought there was a chance Dr Wallis could be staying with you?”
“No. Why would he be staying with me?”
Alison’s still staring at me, like she’s considering whether I’m a credible person or not, “He’d told you his feelings towards you, hadn’t he?” she asks.
How does she know about his feelings? She pushes further without waiting for an answer, “Did you reciprocate?”
“No. I was still trying to process…still am trying to process what he said, because I haven’t been able to speak with him since. How do you know how he felt? Have you spoken to him?”
Alison suddenly seems to accept that perhaps I don’t know as much as she’d assumed, “He left a letter to you on his desk, or part of a letter, with your name on it.”
I swallow, this is all a bit much, “When we met for coffee, he said he wanted to pursue a relationship with me, but it came out of the blue. He was my mentor, my supervisor a few years back. I was shocked by what he said.”
“His wife assumed he was with a new partner. Since they separated he’d apparently been quite secretive…”
“So they were really separated?” I check, “He wasn’t lying to me about that?”
Nathan looks puzzled,
“No. That’s why we’ve come straight to see you. She thought he was staying with a new partner, then he missed picking up his daughters. So, she, Pip her name is, went to talk to him and she found he’d left the house open, his car unlocked. It doesn’t seem normal.”
“Oh, wow. But Pip…she doesn’t know me, why would she assume he was with me?”
“The letter,” Nathan replied, “It was in plain view…”
My mind flashes back to The Cape yesterday - Pip Wallis rushing out of the house, peering into Michael’s car. She wasn’t living there, she’d gone looking for him because he didn’t show up for their children!
“When he didn’t answer my calls, I thought he’d changed his mind about what he’d said to me and was avoiding me,” I shake my head in disbelief, “I didn’t know he’d dropped off the radar”
“It looks like nobody did. He kept to himself,” Nathan says.
“He must’ve had patients wondering where he was?”
“He hadn’t scheduled any, but he was a no-show at a couple of personal appointments. Apparently, that’s completely out of character,”
“So, is it considered suspicious?”
“Do you think it should be?” Alison comes right back at me.
“It sounds like it absolutely should be…” I’m trying to decide if Alison’s got something against me, or if this is just how she is all the time. It seems like the former, but while I’m still deciding, Nathan adds,
“Well, apparently nothing’s missing, not even his car, or money. But considering he hasn’t been in contact with you, or his family, things seem a little off.”
“Absolutely,” I agree, “You can tell by my messages, our messages, we were wondering what was going on with him…”
Alison nods, “We needed to make sure you hadn’t seen Michael or heard from him. You could be the last person he was with prior to going off the air…and you definitely left the most messages on his machine…”
“Oh.”
“Did he say anything at all to you about places he liked going, plans to travel, going away with friends, hiking, fishing, anything at all?” Alison asks.
“Um…he said he was scaling his practice right back,” I trawl through my memory of our conversation again,
“He said life was too short to be unhappy, or to keep doing things for money alone…but, to be honest, he was very focused on trying to start a personal relationship with me, and I was shocked...”
“Was he depressed? Having some sort of crisis, would you say?” Nathan asks.
“Depressed? Absolutely not. But a crisis, maybe, yes, a marriage break up and a whole re-evaluation of his life, that’s a crisis…definitely he was making big life changes…but he seemed…hopeful, I think he was hopeful for the future…”
“So you didn’t get the impression he was suicidal?” Alison asks.
“Oh, no, no,” I wasn’t ready for that question, “ He wasn’t suicidal. He wasn’t flat, he was impatient for a better life. He said he wanted me to be part of it, but I wasn’t sure I could do that.”
His words echo through me, We could be so good together.
“Why was that?”
“What? Sorry…” I was in my own head. Alison repeats the question,
“Why didn’t you want to get involved with him romantically?”
“Because he used to be my mentor. It’s not right for us to be involved, regardless of anything else. I felt caught between caring about him but not wanting to get involved in something that could end badly…I’m still confused about it…”
“Was he upset that you rejected him?”
“Well, no, I don’t think so, because I agreed to think about it…so he seemed…hopeful…like I said…he seemed confident…very confident.” I’m thinking of the kiss.
“Ok, so you mentioned a patient in your messages,” Alison moves on, “What was the issue with the patient you wanted to discuss with him?”
“Well, that’s another whole thing. A girl came in, saying she was referred by Michael, but with no paperwork, which is unusual. So, Fi called him, but we heard nothing back from him. When he didn’t call, I thought maybe he was avoiding me.”
“I wouldn’t have thought…” Nathan begins, then he seems to change his mind, “We’ll need to get some details from you regarding this patient, so we can follow up, see whether they have anything to add?”
“Well, the thing is,” I’m about to start telling them about the whole Harley schmozzle when Fi knocks and comes in, “Excuse me, but your first patient’s here Pashy.”
“I’m so sorry, I have a long list of patients, some of them quite urgent….starting now….can you come back?” I say, feeling the pressure of the day looming large.
“OK,” Nathan smiles like he can tell how stressed I am by all of this, “Can I come back this afternoon when you’ve finished, to hear about the patient? I have some other questions, and I’ll probably have more in a few hours…”
“Sure. We have a super long day though, so it would have to be…” I look to Fi for help.
“After 7pm works Nathan,” she says, “We’ll have some take away ready for dinner, I’m thinking a burgers and G&T night, that OK?”
Nathan glances at me, a little surprised at the invitation. Alison just raises an eyebrow at him.
“Oh, she’s a feeder…” I say, “But they’re great burgers…”
“Um, sure, ar, after 7 then,” Nathan agrees. Alison looks awkward, but he shrugs at her like, why not?
“Great,” beams Fi, showing them out.
“That cop is a spunk,” Fi whispers under her breath when she comes back in, dropping the day’s patient files on my desk.
I hear her but don’t fully register, because I’m caught up replaying the last time I saw Michael, wondering if there was something I missed. I can’t come up with anything.
Fi’s staring at me, “Don’t you reckon he looks good, with his hair longer than he had it last year?”
“Who, Nathan?”
“Of course Nathan!”
'“Alison was a bit blunt though, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, no burger for that one,” Fi laughs.
“I just can’t believe Michael’s been reported missing,” I shake my head, “And he is separated, like he said…that was a roller-coaster of doubt when we saw Pip…”
“Do you think Harley showing up is connected to Michael disappearing?” muses Fi “It’s beserk she turns up saying he sent her, and lying about everything, the same week he disappears…”
“The same week life gets weird in all sorts of ways,” I agree.
When Nathan walks in again later, I notice he is actually attractive, like Fi said. He’s nothing like Michael, who’s all middle-aged, bourgeois designer chic. Detective Hawke’s much younger and he looks like he wouldn’t know a designer if he fell over one.
He plonks down on my therapy couch, then realises where he is, jolting up like it’s hot lava,
“Is it okay to sit here?”
“Yes.”
“But, this is where it all happens?”
I know what he means but it’s amusing to pretend not to, “Where what happens?” I make an innocent face. Fi giggles and Nathan squirms a little that his question must’ve sounded silly, or even a tad risqué.
“I meant therapy, whatever….” he stumbles.
“It’s a couch,” I can’t help smiling, “Sometimes a couch is just a couch.”
Fi laughs, unwrapping burgers and pushing one on a plate over to Nathan’s side of the coffee table. He smiles awkwardly.
“Big beef guy Nathan?” she smiles cheekily.
“Seriously?” I murmur under my breath.
“With bacon and cheese, Fi?” he doesn’t miss a beat this time.
“Is there any other way to have it?”
“There is not.”
“Good then, enjoy.” She gives the burger another dainty push towards him and he leans forward to take a good chomp over the plate, nodding at her in appreciation.
“This is a lot of flirting,” I point at Fi and Nathan looks uncomfortable, putting all of his attention into eating his burger.
“I can only do it because I’m not serious Nathan,” Fi sets the record straight, looking contrite, “I’m fully committed elsewhere, I just love a joke,” She leans over her side of the table and tucks into her dinner.
“So, can I ask you if you found out anything today…about Michael?” I cut to the chase, keen for some news.
“Well, actually I need to start by asking you a question,” he sounds almost apologetic, “Sorry to ask you a personal question like this straight up, but you definitely never stayed at Michael’s house did you?”
“No! I told you, we weren’t together,” I’m kind of offended that he didn’t believe me earlier.
“OK. Did he mention he had a woman staying with him?”
“No. Was a woman staying with him?” Fi and I both stop chewing, and lean in.
Nathan’s legs are long and he accidentally knocks me, under the coffee table, “Sorry,” he draws them back in.
“No worries.” I nod for him to go on, nibbling my veggie burger, eyes wide.
“How do you know there was a woman staying there?” Fi prompts impatiently.
“I believe she left some clothes at his house, not that I’ve seen them. Ali, you know, Detective White was there again today, with Pip Wallis, looking around. Pip found some women’s clothing she didn’t recognise...in his bedroom.”
Fi nearly coughs up her last bite of burger, “Oh my god, what a dog he is…” she gasps, reaching for her G&T. Then, she glances at Zelda, “Sorry girl. Dogs are much better than some men...”
Unperturbed, Zelda only looks interested in the burgers.
“He didn’t mention anything about having someone staying there, did he?” Nathan continues.
“No,” I can’t believe he was sleeping with someone else and sending me roses, “He does have two teenage daughters…”
“Yup. Definitely not their stuff, I’m told” Nathan takes a drink.
My mind goes back to Michael kissing me, telling me I’m the one he’s been longing to be with, for so long, “This keeps getting more confusing.” I’m done with my burger all of a sudden.
“There’s every chance he’s OK,” Nathan says, almost reassuringly, “We’ll keep looking into who the clothes might belong to, in the hope he’s with them.”
“Yes…maybe I wasn’t the only woman he was...pursuing,” I shake my head, surprised he’d be that duplicitous. It makes no sense to me.
“Well, if her clothes were in his bedroom he wasn’t pursuing her Pashy” Fi grimaces, “He’d well and truly caught her.”
We sit quietly for a moment until Nathan changes the topic, “What about this patient you mentioned Pash?”
“Yes, sure. Her name’s Harley Finch…allegedly….”
“You don’t think that’s her real name?”
“No,” Fi cuts in, “She doesn’t exist according to Medicare.”
“All her details were fake,” I take a big swig of my G&T and exhale deeply with satisfaction, “Great drink Fi.”
“Isn’t it?” Fi nods, handing Nathan the file she’s been itching to show him, “It’s here, but it’s probably all fake .”
“We’re not bound by confidentiality in this instance,” I finish my drink, “In fact, I’m ethically required to report it if I believe someone is at high risk and I can’t contact them. I’m worried about the patient and Michael now…”
Nathan swallows the last of his burger and wipes his fingers on a serviette, gazing intently at the file, “OK, consider this to be officially reporting your concerns. Tell me more about her.”
“So she arrived without an appointment," I begin, “Very secretive, claiming to suffer some kind of ‘episodes’, but not wanting, or unable, to expand upon that. She didn’t seem to trust me, although I wouldn’t say she was paranoid in a clinical sense. I felt like she didn’t like me at one point. She said, I didn’t know you were…and then refused to finish the sentence…”
I give Nathan a physical description of Harley, emphasising how striking she is. I also mention her flat, husky voice that isn’t the norm.
“What did she want?” Nathan zeros in.
“She wanted me to prescribe her medications, some very strong drugs, without any kind of medical history, testing, or plans for therapy. Michael Wallis knows that’s not how I operate. He taught me. He definitely wouldn’t have sent her here if he thought she was going to demand medication because he knows I wouldn’t just hand it out. ”
“OK, I see. Could he have prescribed her medication himself?”
“Absolutely.”
“What was she asking for?”
“A lot. Pain killers, she claimed to suffer migraines, sleeping pills, anti-anxiety medication; and she wanted an anti-psychotic…possibly something she’s previously taken, maybe for schizophrenia, psychotic episodes...it’s impossible to know for sure.”
“Did you give her anything?
“No. I explained to her that I require a full assessment, which takes time, and I need a history. More than that, first I have to establish honest communication and trust with a patient, that we’re on the same page about their health.”
“OK,” Nathan looks thoughtful. He takes out a tiny notebook from his shirt pocket and starts jotting things down, just like an old school detective.
I look at Fi. She’s noticed too and grins at me as we watch him write. I decide I need to mention my concerns about Michael’s relationship with Harley,
“Look, this sounds bad for Michael, and I might be completely off track here, but I wasn’t sure if Harley was telling me, in a kind of coded way, that maybe there was something a bit inappropriate with her previous doctor…she said they’d dumped her.”
“Oh,” Nathan hadn’t expected that, “She said Michael Wallis dumped her?”
“No, she wouldn’t say it was him. When I asked her to clarify who she meant, that’s when she took off…”
“But you think she meant Michael Wallis?”
“I really don’t know, but since he’s the only doctor she mentioned by name…I could only assume. I really hope I’m wrong…”
Nathan’s frowning, “As a psychiatrist, what are your gut instincts about this girl, assuming you weren’t able to make any diagnoses?”
I have to think about that a moment.
“I haven’t got much more to tell you. She was unusual, talented, an artist, showed me photos of her work, which was amazing. They were very dark portraits, about people’s ‘dark feelings’, she called them.”
I notice Fi breathe in sharply, but not speak.
“Right,” Nathan looks concerned, “Dark feelings?”
I’m thinking aloud, “I’m not convinced her art indicates anything sinister…I mean, have you seen a typical teenager’s art…it can be grim, you know goth, grunge…it’s common counter-culture stuff…it’s not that odd or dangerous…in my opinion…”
Nathan and Fi are just looking at me so I continue,
“Anyway, my gut feeling wasn’t that she was dangerous to anyone, except maybe herself.”
Nathan still waits, watching me intently. Alittle self-doubt creeps in,
“Look, honestly, Michael’s love confessions sent me into a tailspin. I never saw that coming, and it’s not so long ago, I underestimated Jay’s intentions and let myself be way more exposed than I should have. My trust in my own gut’s taken some hits lately. All I can say is Harley seemed harmless enough to me, just a drug-shopper, a kid...”
“Oh Pashy come on, she threatened you,” Fi interjects suddenly, looking guilty she’s intervened, “You have to tell him…” She glances sheepishly at Nathan.
“She threatened you?” he asks.
“Sort of…”
“She said Watch your back!” Fi blurts.
“I didn’t take it as a threat, Fi.”
“Doesn’t sound great…” Nathan smiles, “How did you take it?”
I have to reflect a moment, “Like she was pissed off. She clearly wanted drugs, not any other kind of help, and she took off when I kept asking her questions. She was angry, but not threatening.”
Fi shakes her head, “You’re the expert Pashy, but I didn’t like the sound of it.”
“Hmm,” Nathan puts his little book in his shirt pocket. He looks lost in thought a moment, then brings himself back,
“Alright, I’m going to see if we can pull any facts from this girl’s fictions. Thank you Pash for the information and your opinions, and thanks for the great dinner Fi.”
He smiles at Fi then looks back at me closely,
“Would it be OK if I ran any medical, psychiatry stuff that might come up along the way by you, get your professional input as we continue to investigate, since you know both this girl, and Dr Wallis?”
“Sure,” I’m keen to be kept up to date, if a little surprised to be asked.
“Talk to you soon then,” Nathan says, getting up from the couch with a bemused expression I can only guess is about the couch being low for someone of his height.
“OK. See you.”
As soon as he’s gone, Fi apologises for disagreeing with me about Harley in front of Nathan, and saying she was threatening, but I’m OK with it. I didn’t know how much Harley’s words had bothered her, and maybe she’s right to be worried. Fi was wary of Jay before anything happened too. Her opinion’s not to be disregarded lightly.
I walked to work this morning with Zelda, so I want to get home before it’s any later and crazier on Friday night Chapel Street.
“It’s been a week!” Fi says, taking the dishes out to the kitchenette.
“That,” I inhale deeply, “Is an understatement.”
As Zelda and I head home along Chapel Street, through some busy sections of bright shops and bustling restaurants, punctuated by quieter, darker stretches, I feel increasingly uneasy.
A number of times, I glance back over my shoulder, and so does Zelda, looking to see if there’s someone behind us. I half expect to see the shape of Jay in his long dark coat, walking behind us, but there’s nobody. It’s just a feeling.
Haha, I think to myself, a dark feeling, and we pick up our pace.
I’m obsessed!
Been waiting for this weekends release !!! Oh it’s so great !! Lots of suspense and mystery. Thanks Deb