CHAPTER 1

Friday, October 13, 1984

"How can I help you madam?"  A wretched old woman dressed in tattered clothing, rag tied to her head covering a peppery dingy matted mane greeted a10 year old Dana Draper at the door of the Shrine, a sacred place that the alleged voodoo priestess resided and conducted her art.

Dana walked through this familiar place, and took a seat in the sanctuary.   She unlaced her scarf, and opened her jacket.  She was a student of Abington Academy, a school for the gifted.  She found this place from an ad she spied in a weekly circular.   She had a problem, one that just wouldn't go away.   Small and powerless, she sought the assistance of Baroness Samedi.  

"Come, have a seat.   So you have returned?" 

Dana opened the brown paper sack and pulled out a sealed jar filled with murky liquid-a salt water bath sample and the photo of the man she feared, all before the baroness.   The woman took the picture and fastened it with a rubber band to the jar of sea salts bath water.    "How much did you bring?"

Dana reached into her pocket and pulled out the allowance and random change she collected from bottles found around the house and littering the streets.   Her eyes graced with hope that it would be enough.   The baroness placed the money in a stocking knotting its end then wedging it beneath the rubber band.   She set the jar in the center of the table and placed her open palms outstretched summonsing Dana to join her.

"Take my hands dear child, close your eyes, and repeat after me..."  She instructed.

Dana acquiesced, closing her eyes and soon the woman began to chant.   The room quaked.   A course wind swept through the house.   Moans, cries, and pants emitted from the baroness and this went on for several minutes.   Suddenly she broke hold of Dana's hands and ran choking towards the back of the house, clinching her gut with one hand and covering her mouth with the other.   Hanging over the rickety porch banister shivering her eyes rolled backwards as she vomited a strange foamy matter.

Dana jumped to her feet in fright, belting out reflexive screams. "AAAAARGH!"  She glanced around; spying a single eyeball floating in a sea of blood red liquid that had replaced the sea salt bath water.  The photo and the money were gone.   Dana ran steadfastly out the front door of the house.  A host of her friends stood in wait, whose eyes bugged from their sockets at the torment they'd just heard.

"Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...Oh Oh Oh Oh Oh!" The baroness laughed ghastly.   She'd earned her wage for the day.   She hid her delight as the group of girls ran down Cabernet Avenue, never looking back, never to speak of the events that had happened there.

***

Two weeks later...

Dana could see the flashing red and blue lights.    She lifted her tiny head, peering out the window to see Baroness Samedi taken away in handcuffs out of her house.    An officer escorted her to the wagon but before she entered she glanced up and her eyes fastened to Dana's.    A tightening fear caught in Dana's chest as she ducked low into school bus seat afraid she'd been seen.

***

Several days later...

"Don't cry mommy...don't cry."  Dana cried.

"Dana! Bring your ass out from under that fuckin' bed!" 

Ten year old Dana Draper ran to her closet and shut the door, clinching her knees to her chest.   She could hear the loud thumps of his footfalls trekking through out the house punching walls, glass and tables crashing, and the screams of her mother begging him to calm down.

"Don't cry mommy...please...please."  Dana scrunched into a ball, rocking herself into a trance, back and forth.   Her eyes shut tightly.    Suddenly she stilled.   Her eyes flew open.    Outside, her bedroom door slammed shut seconds as her stepfather approached the handle.    He pulled and tugged.    From the kitchen, knives and sheers shook in the drawer.   

"Open this goddamn door!"

"Please...please Michael...don't...don't hurt my baby!"   Ingrid Draper pleaded, ran out from her bedroom face bloody and bruised, tugging at the legs of her assailant boyfriend.   The storm was set.   The atmosphere usually was calm unless he came home pissed-off from work, angry because there was no food set before him worthy of the labor he'd shed for meager wages.

Michael kicked and punched until Ingrid fell like a ragdoll against the wall with a loud thud.   Her body slumped out cold on the floor.

Dana screamed.   The kitchen drawer sprang open, dumping its contents to the floor.  Knives and forks flipped jettisoning through the kitchen, forming a military line in the hall as Michael kicked and kicked, punching his fist at the child's bedroom door.  At the moment the wood began to splinter he let out a blood curdling scream. 

"Ow!  Fuck!"  Three knives with brute force submerged into his abdomen and chest.   He continued to fight through the alcohol haze.   Another speared through his juggler, severing the windpipe.   His body fell to a heap against the door.

***

October 4, 1988

Ding.   The tardy bell rang.   Weeks before Halloween and the entire village of Elmhurst grew festive for the season.   Yellow, browns, and orange colors layered the tiny blue collar community .   Dana Leigh Draper clinched a yellow spiral notebook, a blue pocket folder, two number 2 pencils, along with two blue ink pens, the simple courtesies of Assistant Principal LaTanya Boykin.

"Here's your class schedule.   Its 9:20 a.m. and first period is just about over.   I'm assigning you to Mr. Carpenter's section 7-214 homeroom.   Tomorrow you will report there at 8:45 a.m. ok."

The desolate teen nodding in agreement leveled her black lipstick clutching her supplies to her prepubescent chest.   She was a smart girl, though hesitant to engage.   The attendance officer waved her up to the counter, placing the class schedule in front of her.

"I hear you like to draw."  Ms. Scott observed what a few moments left alone could create.   She was a ward of the state.   Art therapy had allowed her the freedom to express on paper what tormented her inside.   Ms. Scott wasn't afraid of the costuming.   She had seen children of all persuasions come and go.   This one was no different.  Most of the students of Heidi Schultz Middle School liked Ms. Scott.   She was their saving grace.   She was what you called the free bookie.    If you didn't have bus fare, lunch money, or simply needed a hall pass to get into class she was the one student's went to.   

--- 

"Welcome Dana, please come in."

Thirteen year old Dana Draper's head rose to the low but confident voice of the school social worker Mrs. Frazier.   Nothing but her perfect olive skin and the white of her eyes could contrast with the morbid attire she adorned daily.   A gothic bride was her intent.   She pulled it off well.  

"Have a seat."

Dana never made eye contact with the gracious woman.    She'd been a student at Schultz for three weeks and already she had been deemed the Bride of Frankenstein in lieu of her appearance.   Every child her age made 'fitting in' their goal.   Dana just didn't give a damn.  

"How are you adjusting?   No problems?"  Mrs. Frazier asked.   Dana's eyes wandered about the space of the small office.   Paintings on the wall, greeting cards littered a small bulletin board.   She glanced out of the window.   Students turned ropes, singing limericks and jumping Double Dutch.  

Mrs. Frazier followed the direction of Dana's attention, a dream catcher.

"Dana?"

"Yes."  She snapped back into focus.

"I'd liked to know if everything is going okay.  Are you having any difficulty in your classes?"

"No.   I mean everything is alright I guess.  The teacher's are fine."  She nibbled the fingernail, chipped black nail polish scantily shown.

Mrs. Frazier anxiously touched her crystal earring flipping open Dana's file.   On top an attendance report from her teachers.   Dana lived in a girl's home since her mother was institutionalized.   "Well, I had a recommendation come to my desk from Mrs. Kline your English teacher.   She said that you've missed three sessions in the last two weeks.   Although your assignments are in on time, she's concerned that you aren't receiving the full accommodation of your studies because of your absences.   You care to elaborate?"

She shook her head 'no'.

"Dana, I want to help you please don't hesitate to come to me if there's something you need."

"No.  I'm fine.  Mrs. Frazier."  Dana fractured a smile then thumbed through her purse for an ink pen.   She began to chew the cap.   Mrs. Frazier watched her determinately and sighed.

"Very well then, Mrs. Kline should see you in class tomorrow and for the duration?"  The girl remained unfazed.   The visit trivial, since no one bothered to assess her knowledge of the core she'd play dumb.   It was safe.   If they'd only taken the liberty of researching her past school they would have found she was in the talented and gifted program of Abington Academy.    Notwithstanding a half year's absence from school while attending a bridge transition program for state warded children, Dana was practically three to four years beyond the students her age at Schultz.  

Instead of honor's classes or assigning her to the membership at the local high school she was placed in the last grade of known completion, grade seven.    To Dana this was all a part of some rudimentary exercise so that she could hopefully become eligible for the State High School Equivalency at sixteen and then go on to college.

***

Present

"Dr. Dana Draper?"  The tanned blond surfer with sexy blue eyes jumped to his feet when he spied her coming up the corridor.   For the season his skin was far too bronzed to have been stoked under the fall sun.    A tanning bed or a drifter, she concluded he must be on first glance.

"Yes, who'd like to know?"  Dana handed three patient files over the counter for the assistant to bill insurance.   She glanced quickly to the guy dancing a mime routine, trying very hard to garner her attention.  

"Oh...I'm sorry; my name is Ken...Ken Marshall."   He extended his hand.   She turned to accept.   He smiled giddily.   It was his natural charm.   He smelled of Irish Spring soap.   He was dressed in tan Khaki's, denim polo, and a British tan leather blazer and Easy Spirit loafers.

"Good morning Mr. Marshall, I'm in a hurry as you can see.   If you need an appointment make one with the nurse."  Dana dismissed his effort.

"Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"  He smiled, flirting in his Louisiana twang.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Tea then?"   He continued pacing in her strides.

She was attired in professional yet casual duds.    A navy corduroy blazer over a powder blue polo shirt was tucked beneath a navy cardigan vest.    On her feet, black Bass penny-loafers.  Her corded dark wooly dreads, with random cowry shells hung well passed her shoulders.    Clinched under her right arm was an expandable file.   Her face was flushed as she eyed her watch.   Her I-Phone was silent now so she wouldn't forget to do so when she reached the court.   Even without a destination pending she was in no mood for this distraction.    She could smell a cop a mile away.   Her patients were hers exclusively.

"I'm on my way to court."

"I'll walk you."  Ken asked, holding the glass door open so she could pass through.

"Stalking is illegal in this state Mr. Marshall."

"I'm headed across the street to Madison Avenue too.   I'll open the door."   He stepped aside.   Dodging the traffic she jaywalked across the street.   The court was three blocks away.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to ask you a question about a patient of yours.   A patient you treated by the name Amber Jennings?"

Dana's swift steps continued but her bowed back straightened to the name as a shadow of fear and death casted upon her olive complexioned face.   She hadn't seen Amber Jennings for weeks now.   The woman had gone from obliterated from the abuse she suffered to burden by the possibility of his death when he disappeared, all in a matter of weeks.   She was the most difficult, frustrating, and consumed patient that Dana believed she had ever treated.   The woman was an insufferable mess.   Dana had considered referring her to a psychiatrist believing she couldn't help the woman anymore.    

The mere mention of the name made her skin fade to a ghost white.

"If you have any questions about my patients, get a court order.  Good day Mr. Marshall!"  She blurted passing through the exterior doors entering the building that housed the district court.   As she took her place in the line to have her bags checked with security she glanced over her shoulder, swallowing deeply.   Her pulse still quickened, her chest grew tight.   Fear was never an emotion she managed well.