Haunted Humans Part 9

"Deej, you're not the problem," said Clift.

"What if I'm making you sicker?"

"Oh, please!" said Saul. "You know we're not sick! In fact, I think you're the only one who knows it besides us. At least I thought you knew it. They brainwas.h.i.+ng you, babe?"

D.J. looked away, closed her eyes. It Was time to make a decision about this.

Dr. Kabukin and Dr. Bollings thought Morgan had some kind of mental illness, and D.J. respected them as professionals. On the other hand, she knew Gary was real, and she felt that all the others had independent existences, too. Time to believe in herself again instead of the experts, after these torturous years of doubting everything she had ever known. She opened her eyes and stared up at Saul. "No," she said, baring her teeth in a nasty grin at him and pinching his cheek. "I know you're not crazy."

"What a load of bulls.h.i.+t!" said Mitch.e.l.l. "I ought to lock you up for being crazy too!"

"Hey, Morgan, you want to go to a hotel with me?" D.J. said.

His eyes lit up. "Miss Deej!" he said, himself at last. "You're teasing."

"No. All you have to do is prove to Officer Mitch.e.l.l that you'll, uh, cooperate, not wander off, obey orders. Not get us in danger."

"There's no way he can prove that to my satisfaction," said Mitch.e.l.l.

D.J. frowned, wondering if Mitch.e.l.l had enough power to make decisions about her and Morgan. Business mode, she thought. I put on my persona, I know where everything goes, I am unfailingly polite, organized, relaxed, I can follow the chain of command, I know how to find out what I need to know. I get things done.

Business mode. Even though, in her relaxed clothes, Reeboks, jeans, and a big black T-s.h.i.+rt, she wasn't dressed for it. "Who's your superior? Who a.s.signs the duties around here?"

Mitch.e.l.l snorted. "On a Sunday evening? Good luck."

"Excuse me, Morgan," D.J. said, and wandered out into the main room of the station. "Somebody in charge here?" There were a lot fewer people in the station than there had been Friday night. She headed for the front desk. "Sergeant?"

"Yes?"

"Hi. I'm D.J. Demain. I've got somebody a.s.signed to protect me while this guy, Chase Kennedy, is trying to kill me. Mitch.e.l.l, the woman who's guarding me, isn't -- I just wondered if there was anybody else you could a.s.sign?"

He smiled at her and said, "Pleasant isn't in the job description for guarding witnesses, Miss Demain."

"You're right. What I'd really like is for me and my friend Morgan to go underground in a hotel, but Mitch.e.l.l doesn't think she can handle him. Is self-confidence in the job description?"

"She scared of that skinny guy?" he said.

"Well, he talks in strange voices."

He looked at her for a while, then glanced around the room. "Hey, Harley, you doing anything specific tonight?"

A man in plain clothes who had his feet up on a desk and a True Romance in his hands glanced up. "Waiting for anything that might develop," he said. He was a large man with thinning brown hair. He looked sleepy.

"You want to watch a couple of witnesses overnight?"

"They going to do anything interesting?"

The desk sergeant looked at D.J. and raised his eyebrows.

"It's our second date," D.J. said to Harley. "I sometimes go all the way on a second date."

"I'm game," Harley said, lowering his feet and rising. He was taller than D.J.

had thought; his clothes were sloppy yet suitable-- a biscuit-brown suit, a half-untucked white s.h.i.+rt, a medium-width red tie loosened at the neck. He folded his magazine, tucked it into his inside jacket pocket, and ambled over.

"h.e.l.lo," he said.

"h.e.l.lo," said D.J., holding out her hand. "D.J. Demain."

"Just call me Harley. I don't tell anybody my, first name." His handshake was enveloping but gentle.

"My friend Morgan is locked up. He's the other witness. Could somebody let him out?"

The sergeant handed some keys over to Harley, and D.J. and Harley headed for the jail cells. "You're with the kook?"

"Mm," said D.J., nodding.

"This does sound entertaining."

Morgan was in a far comer of his cell, curled up nose to knees, and Mitch.e.l.l was standing close to the bars, glaring at him.

D.J. said, "Hey, Morgan, look what I found! It's Harley. He's.taking us to a hotel now."

Morgan scrubbed a hand over his face and unfolded.

"What?" said Mitch.e.l.l, outraged.

Harley unlocked the door, and Morgan came over, eyes wide.

"Hi, Morgan," said Harley, holding out his hand;

"Hi, Harley." Gary was the one who answered. He grinned and shook hands. "You got any shaving gear? I'm starting to irritate myself."

"We could stop at a twenty-four-hour market on the way over, if you two will crouch down in the back seat while I go in and make the buy."

"No problem," said Gary.

"Either of you have any money?"

"I do," said D.J. She opened her purse and fished out thirty dollars. She handed him the bills.

"Hot d.a.m.n! We could pick up some doughnuts and hot coffee. Make a shopping list, kids. Let's go."

"Harley, you haven't seen what I've seen," Mitch.e.l.l said.

"I'm sure that's true," said Harley. "What are you talking about?" "He's possessed."

"Morgan?" Harley said. "Any truth to the rumor?"

"Yeah," said Gary.

"Demons?"