Alice thought Quentin. There was something coy about her half-smile in the picture. It was almost as if she was flirting with someone…perhaps the photographer?
"I thought you had a girlfriend," said Mackenzie.
"I do. Why?" asked Quentin.
"Well, you would know that a girl doesn't like competition," said Mackenzie.
"Come again?" asked Quentin.
"You've been paying more attention to that girl than me. I didn't just pick you up to be a Good Samaritan, Ohio State. I'm fucking dying for adult conversation. Lately, I've been surrounded by kids. Either them, or I'm surrounded by the ivory tower asses that work for Baker & Ford."
"Sad story," said Quentin.
"Smart ass...man, my hair looks like shit," said Mackenzie, as she studied herself self-consciously in the rearview mirror.
"It's kind of tough to rock a pixie cut in the rain," said Quentin.
"Not when you've sprayed enough hairspray to put a dent in the ozone," said Mackenzie, "You owe me a drink for pulling you out of that condemned house."
"Uh, I'm a few years shy of the drinking age," said Quentin.
"Then I guess we'll be going to my place then," said Mackenzie.
"Cool," said Quentin as nonchalantly as he could. "But what about my car?"
"I'll call my insurance company and have it towed to the hospital," said Mackenzie. "It'll probably take a while there, as I need to check on one of my patients."
Quentin was a bit surprised by how quickly Mackenzie shifted to her professional persona.
"What's going on with your patient…if you don't mind me asking," said Quentin.
"So long as you don't print anything about it. I'm working on an article for JAMA," said Mackenzie. "My patient is pretty special."
"Sounds intriguing. Perhaps you'll win a Nobel Prize for your efforts," said Quentin.
"See, I can't tell if you're being genuine or facetious," replied Mackenzie.
"I'm totally being genuine," said Quentin.
"Good, then I can trust you. You'll have to wear a lab coat. House rules," said Mackenzie.
Quentin wondered what he was getting into.
Quentin felt confined and itchy in his lab coat. Mackenzie must've given him one that hadn't been washed in years. It even had that musty smell. Whoever wore it before must've sweated a lot. It probably didn't help matters that he was soaked to the bone from the rain outside. He clutched the clipboard that Mackenzie gave to him as a decoy close to his chest.
"Let me peek in first," said Mackenzie, as she motioned for Quentin to wait in the hallway.
Quentin shifted nervously in his shoes. He had double anxiety. For starters, this was the place that Freddy had victimized him and the others. Also, he wondered if the security guard would out him—as he maintained a suspicious gaze on Quentin.
"All right, the patient is available for observation," said Mackenzie. Quentin started to head for the door.
"No, we're going to observe her from another room," said Mackenzie, as she opened the door to an adjacent room that looked like the size of a storage closet.
Quentin entered the room hesitantly. "Two-way mirrors. I don't remember this being shown during the tour."
"It's for a pet project. Once the hospital is properly running, there will be a push towards child psychology. For now, we just have family practice physicians."
"So, which team are you playing for?" asked Quentin.
"Let's just say I'm on the fence. I think the hospital should be focusing on providing optimal child care. Eventually, though, we need to reach out to the children with cognitive and emotional problems," replied Mackenzie.
"Did you practice that for your article?" asked Quentin.
"I'm considering it for my introduction," said Mackenzie with a wink.
Quentin looked through the mirror. He could see a little girl drawing at a miniature easel.
"This feels eerily like Law & Order," said Quentin. "Mixed with To Catch a Predator."
"Well, I was going to bring you in the room to meet her. But lately she's been spooked by male figures, so I thought going incognito was better," said Mackenzie.
"Why is she spooked by men?" asked Quentin.
"I suspect it's because she watched as her father murdered her mother," said Mackenzie.
"That would do it. Poor girl," said Quentin.
"At first I pitied her too," said Mackenzie. "There's something resilient about her. I can't explain it but it's as if she's doing you a favor by acknowledging you."
"What's her name?" asked Quentin.
"Kristen," said Mackenzie.
Just then, Kristen stopped painting at her easel, and looked straight at the two-way mirror. Quentin was able to look at her piercing blue eyes. She wore thick glasses that almost overpowered her small head.
Kristen flipped over the drawing paper, and painted in heavy, angry strokes. She took the drawing paper off the easel, and showed it to the two-way mirror. A chill fell over Quentin. Kristen had painted four slash marks…the sign of Freddy.
Quentin turned away from the sight. He spoke with his back turned towards Mackenzie, who was preoccupied with checking a notebook.
"You said that she was unique. What is it about her that caught your attention?" asked Quentin. He tried to speak without any shakiness in his voice.
"At first, she just seemed like she was suffering from migraines. Then, Kristen started to exhibit extraordinary intelligence. I haven't completed my testing yet, but I suspect the she has Asperger's Syndrome. She exhibits some symptoms…lack of social skills, repetitive behaviors, sophisticated vocabulary…"
"Maybe she's just an old soul," said Quentin.
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Mackenzie. "She's fascinated with this town's history…even going so far as saying that she dreams of past events."
"Dreams of past events?" asked Quentin. "If that's the case, you should skip the article and go straight towards publishing a book."
"I'm not saying I believe her," said Mackenzie. "She probably just has vivid dreams. Not too sound narrow-minded or anything, but dreams are nothing more than the brain sifting through thoughts. They have no bearing whatsoever."
"You'd be amazed," said Quentin, "Sometimes I wish I never dreamed again."
Mackenzie gave a double look at Quentin.
"I never remember my dreams. Hopefully, that doesn't mean that I lack imagination," said Mackenzie. Quentin and she shared a lighthearted laugh.
"I don't know how to thank you for the tow truck," said Quentin, as he and Mackenzie entered her condo.
"Don't mention it," said Mackenzie. "That doesn't mean that you're skipping the drink with me."
"I wouldn't do that to you," said Quentin.
"Good. So, I've got some Chardonnay that I haven't opened yet," said Mackenzie. "Do you mind doing the honors? I couldn't handle a corkscrew if my life…"
Quentin clumsily kissed Mackenzie. He didn't know what compelled him to do it. He loved Nancy…loves Nancy. Yet, there was something that Mackenzie seemed to possess that Quentin lacked from Nancy. Was it because Mackenzie had such a careless attitude? She didn't have the same baggage that Nancy carried with her from what Freddy did to the both of them. Mackenzie was fresh because she was a stranger, and Quentin liked that.
At first, Mackenzie looked astonished. But then, she heaved passionately and Quentin took it as a sign to kiss her again.
In their flurry of kisses, Mackenzie whispered to him: "I've known what you've been thinking…ever since you approached me outside."
They moved to Mackenzie's sofa. As he lay on top of her, Quentin kissed her neck and chest. He began to unbutton her blouse, lustily feeling her silk bra. He hungered for her. Hey Quentin, are you going to slip her some tongue? echoed a voice in Quentin's head. His tongue shot out like a bloated, slimy monstrosity.
"Oh Quentin," uttered Mackenzie, as Quentin watched his tongue swirl about her neck in aghast. He grabbed at his tongue, and tried to force it back into his mouth.
"What's wrong?" asked Mackenzie.
"I better go," mumbled Quentin, as he kept his mouth covered.
"Are you okay? What's wrong with your mouth?" asked Mackenzie. She reached for Quentin's hands. Quentin resisted her grip.
"Come on, I might be able to help," said Mackenzie. Quentin panicked as Mackenzie's hands grabbed his away from his mouth.
Quentin flinched away from her, and headed for the door. He stormed out into the rainy afternoon.
"Quentin! Quentin!" called Mackenzie.