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“It’s okay, Fitz. No one understands more about this than Ten and me.” Ronan sighed. “I do agree with Ten about Aurora speaking to Delilah.”
“I’ve tried to call her spirit to me,” Ten began. “So has Everly and she won’t respond to either one of us. It has to be Aurora. Delilah didn’t seem to mind visiting our house with you three standing just outside the kitchen. I suggest we do the same thing tomorrow after school.”
“Yeah, okay,” Fitz said, as he turned left into the hospital parking lot.
“How do you want to handle Daniels?” Ronan asked.
“I want to hear his story from his perspective. Then I want Ten to jump in with what he learns from the man. Lastly, I want the history of Delilah with his family. He might be the key to ending her need for vengeance and that might be information we can pass along to Delilah. You’ve said in the past that sometimes ghosts are confused by the horror of their death or their afterlife. I want to make sure Delilah knows exactly what happened to her.”
“You got it, Cap.” Jude grinned as he got out of the SUV and hurried toward the Emergency Room door. Ronan and the others were hot on his heels.
Ronan stood in line at the reception desk and flashed his badge when it was his turn. “We’re here to see Jeremy Daniels.”
“That might not be possible, Detective O’Mara,” the reception nurse said. “Due to his extreme agitation.”
“The staff is on the verge of putting him on an involuntary hold?” Ronan asked, knowing the nurse couldn’t divulge that kind of information.
The nurse shrugged and hit the buzzer to let them into the ER. “Try to stay out of the way if things get hairy.”
Nodding, Ronan headed toward the back of the ER where the behavioral health room was located. There were two members of the Salem Police Department standing outside, but the room was quiet. One of them was Oscar Martinez, a beat cop Ronan had known for years. “Martinez, Cisco sent us down here to interview Mr. Daniels.”
Martinez nodded. “He’s been ranting and raving about being attacked by a ghost. I suppose if anyone can get him to calm down and make sense, it’s you and Tennyson. I’ll be out here if Daniels starts to spiral out of control again. FYI, the doctors are discussing putting him on a seventy-two hour psych hold. I’m no doctor, but I believe he’s more than met the criteria for that action to be enacted.”
“Gotcha.” Ronan turned to Fitz. “Since that room has such tight quarters, it might be better if just me and Ten go in at first.”
Fitz nodded in agreement. “Good idea. I’ll go find the doctors in charge of Daniels’s care.”
Ronan opened the door and stuck his head inside. Daniels instantly sat up on the bed and put his hands out, as if he were expecting another attack. “Mr. Daniels, my name is Detective Ronan O’Mara and this is Tennyson Grimm.”
“Fuck off,” Daniels said, slurring his words. The man sounded drunk. “I already spoke to the cops and they think I’m crazy. Pumped me full of tranquilizers. I feel like I’m floating away.”
“We’re a different sort of unit,” Ten said.
“Different? What, like you guys arrest ghosts?” Daniels cackled as if he’d made the funniest joke ever heard.
“I’m a psychic medium, Mr. Daniels,” Ten said, coming to stand near the head of the gurney. “I can see and speak to spirits and I have a feeling I know who did this to you.”
Daniels shot Ten a skeptical look. “I’m not saying anything else that could land me in the funny farm, but I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
“Fair enough,” Ten agreed. “We know you dropped off certain objects to the Salem Witch Board Museum the other night.”
Daniels nodded. “I told that asshole at the museum not to open the box and even more strongly warned him against using the board. Obviously he didn’t listen to me.”
“You’re right. He took the board out of the box and used it with a friend. He was attacked and told us that it felt like something flew out of the board and came at him, hitting him, and knocking him to the floor. I think you know who is responsible for that attack, the one the other night against a man dressed like a confederate soldier, and what happened to you tonight.”
“You know who did this to me?” Daniels asked, sounding incredulous.
Ten nodded. “I do. It was a woman somehow imprisoned in the board. A woman who was murdered during the Civil War.”
Daniels deflated. He rested back against the gurney and pointed to the cup of water on the table near his bed.
Ten grabbed it and held the straw for Daniels to drink.
“Her name is Delilah Meehan. She was a witch, an actual witch. My great-grandfather several times removed had used her psychic gifts to help the confederacy during the war.”
“Who was your great-grandfather?” Ten asked.
“General John Joseph Daniels, of the 8th Virginia Infantry.”
