Chapter 27
Lily knocked on the door across from Blair's apartment. A young girl opened it a crack.
"This is going to sound odd," Lily said, "but I was hired to make a doll of Blair. I came to deliver it, but I heard what happened. I thought that maybe Damian would like it as a memento of her."
"A doll?" When Lily lifted the lid on the box in her arms, the girl gasped. "Oh, Damian, you have to see this."
The door swung wide, and the boy Lily had seen in her visions stared down at the open box. His face pinched with pain at the resemblance between the doll and Blair. "It's her. It's Blair."
"May we come in?" Woodrow asked, placing a hand on Lily's shoulder.
"Uh, sure." The girl motioned them toward a black, modern couch. "Sorry. I'm confused. Did Blair ask you to make the doll? It doesn’t sound like her."
Lily put the box and plastic bag on the floor by her feet. "No, Doctor Cornell Cross ordered it. He thought it would help Blair."
A look passed between the girl and Damian.
"We don't like Cross," Damian said. "Blair was doing better until she started going to him. At first, when she decided to get some counseling, Celia and I thought it was a great idea. We were happy for her. But Cross tried to turn her against us. He wanted her to dump everyone she knew and start over some place new."
"For a fresh start?" Woodrow asked.
"We were a fresh start." Celia rubbed a hand over her eyes. She closed them a moment to compose herself. "Blair and I met about ten months ago. She'd bring her laptop into the coffee shop where I work and hang out to get away from her parents. They put a lot of pressure on her. Nothing she did was ever good enough. She was a mess. When she turned eighteen, I got her a job waitressing with me. We were roommates until she moved in with Damian."
"You live across the hall?" Woodrow asked.
"Yeah. I can't go in there right now. Not after…"
"He's crashing with me for a while," Celia said. "The thing is, we were good for Blair, but Cross wouldn't even talk to us. He heard that I was a waitress at Bags and Beans and Damian played guitar there, and that was that."
"You're a musician?" Lily asked.
"I play at the coffee house on weekends. I fell for Blair the minute I saw her. And I know what people think—a girl with a drug problem meets a guitar player and who knows what they snort? But it's not like that. I'm a sophomore at the community college, computer science."
"Blair was thinking of signing up for a few classes," Celia said.
Lily felt uncomfortable. She didn't know how to ask the question uppermost in her mind. Finally, she just spit it out. "So, what happened? Why did she overdose?"
"I don't know. She was still doing some drugs, but nothing heavy," Damian said. "She always came home upset after she saw Cross, though. Then she'd take sleeping pills and knock herself out. It's like she had to come down after his sessions."
"Did she ever say what they talked about?" Woodrow asked.
"No, but she finally decided she'd had enough of it. She called him this morning to cancel the rest of her sessions. She didn't want to see him anymore."
Lily frowned. "That's impossible. We talked to Cross. He said she'd called to schedule an appointment later in the afternoon."
"He's full of crap then. I was with her. I heard her on the phone. She told him she was done. No more counseling."
"What happened after that?" Woodrow asked.
Damian glanced at Celia. "Celia's car was in the garage. It broke down on Thursday. I drove her to pick it up. Then I ran to the grocery store to grab some stuff for supper—lentils, brown rice…"
"Blair's a vegetarian." Celia caught herself, and her eyes misted again. "Was a vegetarian." She bit her bottom lip hard, trying to gain composure. "When I got back, Cross called. He asked me to check on Blair."
"Her door was open?"
"It's always open. None of us lock our doors during the day. We wander back and forth to visit each other. Everyone on this floor."
"How many apartments are there?"
"On three? Two more, all of us go to school together."
Woodrow was about to say more when there was a loud knock and a man and woman barreled into the room.
"You!" The woman pointed at Celia and Damian. "You killed our daughter!"
Damian's face went pale, but he squared his shoulders. "I loved your daughter. I'd never do anything that hurt her."
"Then where did she get the drugs for the overdose?" Blair's father shouted.
"Probably the same place she got them when she lived with you," Celia said.
The mother jerked, as if slapped. "You nasty, little…"
Damian cut her off. "There's no point in accusing each other. Blair was doing better. No one expected this."
"If she'd have stayed with us…" Blair's mother put her hands over her face and started sobbing.
"You couldn't have protected her any more than we did. We all tried." Damian's voice sounded tired, strained. He shook his head. "I just don't understand why she did it. She was happy here. I know she was."
Blair's father sagged onto the nearest chair. "We lost her. We came so close, and we still lost her."
Woodrow gave Lily a look, and they got to their feet. "Here's my card," Lily told Damian. "If you have any questions, call. The dolls are a gift."
"Dolls?"
"The one in the bag is her soul mate doll. It's you."
His expression crumpled and he turned his head. "Thank you."
Lily followed Woodrow into the hallway and down the stairs. Once inside his van, she sat back and closed her eyes. Woodrow drove to a park a few minutes away and then turned off the van's engine. "Something doesn't add up," he said.
"Something must have happened once Damian and Celia left to get her car, something that upset Blair so much that she wanted to escape somehow. I don't think she meant to overdose."
"Then why did Cross lie to us?"
Lily frowned. "His ego? He wouldn't like getting dumped by a client."
"Maybe…"
"Then what?"
"He's a professional. He's done this for years. He knows when clients start feeling better, they think they don't need treated. It happens all the time."
"How do you know?"
"Psych class."
"You took psych to be an accountant?"
"You take a little bit of everything, but major in accounting. The thing is, it's common. Cross probably expected it."
"Maybe Blair canceled her appointment and then changed her mind."
Woodrow didn't look convinced. "Maybe you're right. Maybe Cross just didn't want to tell us—people he thinks of as no account—that Blair didn't want to see him anymore."
That made sense to Lily. Cross might be honest with his peers, but he wouldn't feel as though he had to explain himself to two kids. "I want to go home," she said.
Woodrow nodded. "If we don't drive to Indy for months, it's fine with me. These trips have been downers."
She had to agree. When she finished the Georgina doll, she was mailing it. No matter what.
Lily knocked on the door across from Blair's apartment. A young girl opened it a crack.
"This is going to sound odd," Lily said, "but I was hired to make a doll of Blair. I came to deliver it, but I heard what happened. I thought that maybe Damian would like it as a memento of her."
"A doll?" When Lily lifted the lid on the box in her arms, the girl gasped. "Oh, Damian, you have to see this."
The door swung wide, and the boy Lily had seen in her visions stared down at the open box. His face pinched with pain at the resemblance between the doll and Blair. "It's her. It's Blair."
"May we come in?" Woodrow asked, placing a hand on Lily's shoulder.
"Uh, sure." The girl motioned them toward a black, modern couch. "Sorry. I'm confused. Did Blair ask you to make the doll? It doesn’t sound like her."
Lily put the box and plastic bag on the floor by her feet. "No, Doctor Cornell Cross ordered it. He thought it would help Blair."
A look passed between the girl and Damian.
"We don't like Cross," Damian said. "Blair was doing better until she started going to him. At first, when she decided to get some counseling, Celia and I thought it was a great idea. We were happy for her. But Cross tried to turn her against us. He wanted her to dump everyone she knew and start over some place new."
"For a fresh start?" Woodrow asked.
"We were a fresh start." Celia rubbed a hand over her eyes. She closed them a moment to compose herself. "Blair and I met about ten months ago. She'd bring her laptop into the coffee shop where I work and hang out to get away from her parents. They put a lot of pressure on her. Nothing she did was ever good enough. She was a mess. When she turned eighteen, I got her a job waitressing with me. We were roommates until she moved in with Damian."
"You live across the hall?" Woodrow asked.
"Yeah. I can't go in there right now. Not after…"
"He's crashing with me for a while," Celia said. "The thing is, we were good for Blair, but Cross wouldn't even talk to us. He heard that I was a waitress at Bags and Beans and Damian played guitar there, and that was that."
"You're a musician?" Lily asked.
"I play at the coffee house on weekends. I fell for Blair the minute I saw her. And I know what people think—a girl with a drug problem meets a guitar player and who knows what they snort? But it's not like that. I'm a sophomore at the community college, computer science."
"Blair was thinking of signing up for a few classes," Celia said.
Lily felt uncomfortable. She didn't know how to ask the question uppermost in her mind. Finally, she just spit it out. "So, what happened? Why did she overdose?"
"I don't know. She was still doing some drugs, but nothing heavy," Damian said. "She always came home upset after she saw Cross, though. Then she'd take sleeping pills and knock herself out. It's like she had to come down after his sessions."
"Did she ever say what they talked about?" Woodrow asked.
"No, but she finally decided she'd had enough of it. She called him this morning to cancel the rest of her sessions. She didn't want to see him anymore."
Lily frowned. "That's impossible. We talked to Cross. He said she'd called to schedule an appointment later in the afternoon."
"He's full of crap then. I was with her. I heard her on the phone. She told him she was done. No more counseling."
"What happened after that?" Woodrow asked.
Damian glanced at Celia. "Celia's car was in the garage. It broke down on Thursday. I drove her to pick it up. Then I ran to the grocery store to grab some stuff for supper—lentils, brown rice…"
"Blair's a vegetarian." Celia caught herself, and her eyes misted again. "Was a vegetarian." She bit her bottom lip hard, trying to gain composure. "When I got back, Cross called. He asked me to check on Blair."
"Her door was open?"
"It's always open. None of us lock our doors during the day. We wander back and forth to visit each other. Everyone on this floor."
"How many apartments are there?"
"On three? Two more, all of us go to school together."
Woodrow was about to say more when there was a loud knock and a man and woman barreled into the room.
"You!" The woman pointed at Celia and Damian. "You killed our daughter!"
Damian's face went pale, but he squared his shoulders. "I loved your daughter. I'd never do anything that hurt her."
"Then where did she get the drugs for the overdose?" Blair's father shouted.
"Probably the same place she got them when she lived with you," Celia said.
The mother jerked, as if slapped. "You nasty, little…"
Damian cut her off. "There's no point in accusing each other. Blair was doing better. No one expected this."
"If she'd have stayed with us…" Blair's mother put her hands over her face and started sobbing.
"You couldn't have protected her any more than we did. We all tried." Damian's voice sounded tired, strained. He shook his head. "I just don't understand why she did it. She was happy here. I know she was."
Blair's father sagged onto the nearest chair. "We lost her. We came so close, and we still lost her."
Woodrow gave Lily a look, and they got to their feet. "Here's my card," Lily told Damian. "If you have any questions, call. The dolls are a gift."
"Dolls?"
"The one in the bag is her soul mate doll. It's you."
His expression crumpled and he turned his head. "Thank you."
Lily followed Woodrow into the hallway and down the stairs. Once inside his van, she sat back and closed her eyes. Woodrow drove to a park a few minutes away and then turned off the van's engine. "Something doesn't add up," he said.
"Something must have happened once Damian and Celia left to get her car, something that upset Blair so much that she wanted to escape somehow. I don't think she meant to overdose."
"Then why did Cross lie to us?"
Lily frowned. "His ego? He wouldn't like getting dumped by a client."
"Maybe…"
"Then what?"
"He's a professional. He's done this for years. He knows when clients start feeling better, they think they don't need treated. It happens all the time."
"How do you know?"
"Psych class."
"You took psych to be an accountant?"
"You take a little bit of everything, but major in accounting. The thing is, it's common. Cross probably expected it."
"Maybe Blair canceled her appointment and then changed her mind."
Woodrow didn't look convinced. "Maybe you're right. Maybe Cross just didn't want to tell us—people he thinks of as no account—that Blair didn't want to see him anymore."
That made sense to Lily. Cross might be honest with his peers, but he wouldn't feel as though he had to explain himself to two kids. "I want to go home," she said.
Woodrow nodded. "If we don't drive to Indy for months, it's fine with me. These trips have been downers."
She had to agree. When she finished the Georgina doll, she was mailing it. No matter what.
