up in her favorite dress and these brilliant red, Spanish flamenco heels. She loved them. She had a bottle of champagne and one of my crystal glasses with her. Only one, mind you, because she was always going to do it alone. She blocked the garage doors, making sure they were insulated, and then turned the ignition on. She took a couple of sleeping pills with the champagne … I imagine her toasting me." His voice trailed off for a moment.
"Eventually the exhaust fumes seeped out of the garage and someone reported it, but it was hours later. I was out, just another day on the job, campaigning for her rights, and those like her. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning. She just closed her eyes and fell asleep."
"I'm so sorry," Jamie said, his loss echoing within her, but there was also a tinge of anger. Lyssa had wasted a life, when Polly would gladly have seized that spark.
"She had always talked about suicide. It was one of our frequent discussions and she agreed to the medication in order to modulate her compulsions. But she missed her bolus injection appointment that week, and she didn't tell me." Matthew's head dropped to his hands. "She was my responsibility."
"She was an adult," Jamie said. "It was her choice."
"Oh, I don't begrudge her the choice to die. It's being left behind I resent."
Jamie wanted to tell him about Polly, wanted to tell him about the pills she had in her cabinet and the struggle every day not to take them. The faint glimmer of hope that she saw in a possible future even without the glue that held her life together.
"My sister was born special," Matthew said. "Her eyes rarely met ours as a baby, but instead, she smiled at beings in another realm. She could see through the veil of this reality, Detective. We are all given a spark of madness, but for her, it fanned into a flame and I helped it grow. We see such a poor version of this life but she could hold the whole world in her mind."
"But she couldn't stand it?"
Matthew shook his head. "The world implied she couldn't stand it. If I could have kept her protected, away from those like Monro who treated her as an invalid, she would have been safe. But they drugged her and she said it dulled her world and made her into one of us."
"One of us?"
"Those who walk in darkness and call it reality. But our reality wasn't worth living for, she said. If she couldn't fly with the angels, then why bother? In my opinion, it's not the mentally ill who are dangerous, it's those who control, medicate and abuse them."
Jamie sensed the undercurrent of animosity. Had that emotion spilled into violence?
"Did you know that Monro had some more – unusual – treatments as part of his practice?" she asked.
Matthew's eyes narrowed. He knew, for sure.
"I heard rumors that he had affairs with some of his patients, but Lyssa would never have been up for that. She certainly had no trouble with sex, Detective. When she was manic, she was irresistible." His words made Jamie wonder just how close the siblings had been.
"Did she have any papers or diaries?" Jamie asked.
"She wrote a diary in the months before her death," Matthew said, his voice tired. "I can't bear to read it, but perhaps it might offer some clues about Monro."
Jamie nodded. "If you can bear to part with it for a few days, I'll see what it contains."
Matthew stood and went to the bookcase. He pulled a red Moleskine notebook from the shelf.
"Be gentle with her memory."
In his words, Jamie heard the depths of his grief, and she felt an echo of her own for Polly. The sting of tears threatened and she stood to take the book from him.
"Of course, I'll take great care with it, and return it to you as soon as possible."
Chapter 10
As Blake laid his hands on the Galdrabók, a rush of waters overlaid with the howling of wind filled his brain, yet he could see nothing but mist. He grasped for a tendril of emotional resonance in the haze and found only terror.
"Eventually the exhaust fumes seeped out of the garage and someone reported it, but it was hours later. I was out, just another day on the job, campaigning for her rights, and those like her. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning. She just closed her eyes and fell asleep."
"I'm so sorry," Jamie said, his loss echoing within her, but there was also a tinge of anger. Lyssa had wasted a life, when Polly would gladly have seized that spark.
"She had always talked about suicide. It was one of our frequent discussions and she agreed to the medication in order to modulate her compulsions. But she missed her bolus injection appointment that week, and she didn't tell me." Matthew's head dropped to his hands. "She was my responsibility."
"She was an adult," Jamie said. "It was her choice."
"Oh, I don't begrudge her the choice to die. It's being left behind I resent."
Jamie wanted to tell him about Polly, wanted to tell him about the pills she had in her cabinet and the struggle every day not to take them. The faint glimmer of hope that she saw in a possible future even without the glue that held her life together.
"My sister was born special," Matthew said. "Her eyes rarely met ours as a baby, but instead, she smiled at beings in another realm. She could see through the veil of this reality, Detective. We are all given a spark of madness, but for her, it fanned into a flame and I helped it grow. We see such a poor version of this life but she could hold the whole world in her mind."
"But she couldn't stand it?"
Matthew shook his head. "The world implied she couldn't stand it. If I could have kept her protected, away from those like Monro who treated her as an invalid, she would have been safe. But they drugged her and she said it dulled her world and made her into one of us."
"One of us?"
"Those who walk in darkness and call it reality. But our reality wasn't worth living for, she said. If she couldn't fly with the angels, then why bother? In my opinion, it's not the mentally ill who are dangerous, it's those who control, medicate and abuse them."
Jamie sensed the undercurrent of animosity. Had that emotion spilled into violence?
"Did you know that Monro had some more – unusual – treatments as part of his practice?" she asked.
Matthew's eyes narrowed. He knew, for sure.
"I heard rumors that he had affairs with some of his patients, but Lyssa would never have been up for that. She certainly had no trouble with sex, Detective. When she was manic, she was irresistible." His words made Jamie wonder just how close the siblings had been.
"Did she have any papers or diaries?" Jamie asked.
"She wrote a diary in the months before her death," Matthew said, his voice tired. "I can't bear to read it, but perhaps it might offer some clues about Monro."
Jamie nodded. "If you can bear to part with it for a few days, I'll see what it contains."
Matthew stood and went to the bookcase. He pulled a red Moleskine notebook from the shelf.
"Be gentle with her memory."
In his words, Jamie heard the depths of his grief, and she felt an echo of her own for Polly. The sting of tears threatened and she stood to take the book from him.
"Of course, I'll take great care with it, and return it to you as soon as possible."
Chapter 10
As Blake laid his hands on the Galdrabók, a rush of waters overlaid with the howling of wind filled his brain, yet he could see nothing but mist. He grasped for a tendril of emotional resonance in the haze and found only terror.
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