The Grey Girl, The Van Tassel Murders

“If you’ll follow me.” The older doctor led the younger down the hall. “Over here we have one of our long-term patients.” Dr. Quaid gestured through a small window in a door to the old man sitting alone in a room. “This is Lewis. He’s been here since the late ’sixties. Sadly, he will be transferred when the institute closes.”

The younger doctor nodded. “Is there no way he’ll ever be able to return to society?” Dr. Addler questioned.

“No, I’m afraid not. No matter what treatment we’ve tried, he still holds tight to his delusions.”

Lewis looked up. A smile spread across his face as if he knew someone was there. He did not, however, turn to the window. He looked instead to the opposite corner of the room.

“Ah,” exclaimed Dr. Quaid. “How fortuitous. You can see what I mean.” Her finger flicked a switch below a speaker set three-quarters of the way up in the door. It crackled for an instant.

Dr. Addler looked at the speaker as Lewis’ voice became audible.

“I knew you would come.” Lewis watched his visitor shimmer into existence. “You know they’re closing this place. I’ll be leaving soon.”

Whatever the answer, the two doctors watching could not hear.

Lewis laughed a toothless laugh. “No, I don’t know where. Hee-hee,” he giggled. “Yes, I hope you come to visit.” His face fell, “No, they still don’t believe me. I have told them time again that it wasn’t what they thought.” He scratched at the gray stubble on his chin. “You know, he came to see me again.” Lewis shook his head vehemently. “I told him nothing. I told him there was nothing to find in that old place.” He got unsteadily out of his chair, shuffling forward and placing an arm out in the air as if he were consoling someone. “No, don’t worry. He’s too young, too excitable, and too inexperienced to find the answer.” His arm seemed to be brushed off, apparently by his invisible guest. “I will never tell him what I know, but yes, it may come to that.” He smiled sadly as he shuffled back to his chair. “Someday, I will be let out. Someday, I will fulfill my promise.” Groaning, he sat down with difficulty. “Yeah.” He laughed his wheezy laugh. “I know I won’t be able to do much right now, but soon, soon, my old friend.” He nodded to the corner then let his head hang. “Soon,” he muttered.

“How often to these episodes occur?” Dr. Addler asked the older doctor.

“It varies. At least once a month, but sometimes as often as once a day.” Dr. Quaid sighed. “In the beginning it was very different. Lewis was terrified of his delusion.” She stood, as if remembering for a few moments. The younger doctor watched her. “It took years before he started having … conversations, if you like.”

“Does this particular delusion have a name?”

“Not that he has ever mentioned. We have asked, and all he ever says is we wouldn’t believe him.” Dr. Quaid laughed. “And we would think he was crazy.”

Dr. Addler frowned. “We prefer to use different terms.”

Dr. Quaid shrugged. “His words not mine.”

“We have access to the newest forms of treatment. Mr. Lewis may finally get the help he needs,” Dr. Addler stated proudly.

Again Dr. Quaid just shrugged. “With public dollars and the crime he’s convicted of? I truly doubt that will be the case.” She led the young man to her office, where she rummaged through a file cabinet, retrieving a thick file. “Here are my notes on Lewis. You should take the time to read them.” When Dr. Addler nodded and took the file without speaking, Dr. Quaid gave him a look that said she doubted he would actually do as she asked. “There’s this, too. It’s very important.” She handed him an evidence bag containing a small tarnished key. “If he asks about the key, here it is. He may go into hysterics if he doesn’t see that it’s safe.” She held up a hand to stave off the question she knew was coming. “Yes, he will know the difference. I don’t suggest you try to fool him. It always turns out”—she paused, holding the bag just above the other doctor’s outstretched hand—“unpleasant.”

A few hours later found Dr. Quaid sitting in her office, packing up her personal items. Abruptly, the air chilled. She rubbed her arms against the cold as she pulled on the sweater she kept on the back of her chair. From outside her office, she heard a door bang into a wall. Carefully, she slowly opened her office door. Looking down the hall, she could see Lewis’ door was open.

A voice spoke to her from behind. “Time Lewis learned another lesson.”

Blood splattered the wall. Dr. Quaid gasped. Her hand flew to her neck. Blood spurted between her fingers. She stumbled against the door, falling against the desk. She tried to reach for the phone as a shadow fell outside the door. Lewis stood there, holding a letter opener, his hands and shirt covered in blood.

“No, no, no. Not again,” Lewis moaned.

Dr. Quaid was losing consciousness. She knocked the phone from the receiver and hit the button for security. In the distance an alarm blared its warning.

Lewis turned to someone just outside of the doctor’s vision. “You didn’t have to kill herm” he protested. “She was nice, no threat.” He paused. “How should I know where it is?” he demanded, “Really” A threat? You can’t do anything to me.” He laughed. “No one will believe me if I say anything. If you take my life, what do I care? I lost that a long time ago.”

The last thing Dr. Quaid saw were several security guards surrounding Lewis. He shrugged and dropped the letter opener. A guard’s face swam into view and then there was only blackness. Dr. Quaid was dead.